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iamnotthere-idonotdie · 9 months ago

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dream of me

part three

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synopsis: reader has been moved away for a few months and wishes they’d stayed in gotham. but a trip to metropolis may provide the opportunity they need to try to reconcile with bruce.

content: bruce wayne x reader, implied depression, some cursing, no smut

a/n: this one took a bit longer to get written down because i kept getting stuck, but im glad i was able to finish it. i still have more parts in mind that i want to include in this series but i don’t know how fast i’ll be able to get them all done. also thanks for the likes on the last two parts!

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“are we still on for dinner tonight?”

your boyfriend is on the other line.

“yeah sure. my place or yours?” you ask.

“how about we go out? there’s this japanese restaurant i’ve heard is good. we could try that.”

“okay. 7 o’clock sound good?”

“sounds great. i’ll pick you up?”

“sure.”

“okay, babe. see you then.” your phone beeps after he hangs up. the screen goes back to your favorites list in your contacts. bruce is still on it. you haven’t had the will to delete it.

it’s been three months now since you left. you didn’t think you’d move on this quickly but robert has proved to be a good companion for you. or at least some kind of distraction. you sit there at your desk, just staring at bruce’s contact. you know you shouldn’t make personal calls on company time but you needed to hear a familiar voice. today has been difficult. some days are better than others. some days you feel fine, happy, content with your job and with robert. other days, like today, it’s like a rain cloud is looking over you and at any moment the monsoon will come. you glance at the top of your screen and the clock says 4:56. you suppose you can leave a few minutes early. you grab your bag and leave your desk, heading toward the elevators. your mind sends you a flashback to that first elevator ride with bruce. sometimes you wish you could just forget about it. all of it. press a button and make the hurt all go away. the memories. the reminders that drip with pain and longing, filling your mind to the brim with tidal waves of regret.

you regret so much. you regret not telling bruce how you felt. you regret not insisting that you stay, whether he wanted to be with you or not. you regret leaving. you thought being away from him would allow yourself to heal but it’s just made every little detail of life remind you of how it all went wrong.

you often find yourself still checking gotham news sites. almost every article is a new story about how well he’s doing. how the company is thriving, how he’s creating new outreach programs and divisions to help the city. he even started a new program, like the one you worked with him on, this time supporting students interested in fine arts. photograph after photograph shows him in different gotham schools, giving out new supplies and resources. he’s doing amazing work there. and you’re still here, coming in every day to sit at a desk and make spreadsheets. the job offer turned out to be too good to be true. you were promised travel, but the furthest you’ve gone is phoenix. and it wasn’t even for work. you finally step off the elevator and into the garage where you see your car where you left it. at least you got that assigned spot.

back at your apartment, you drop your bag on the kitchen table and flip through your daily supply of junk mail. you go into your bedroom and open the curtains to let the remaining rays of sun come through. you look out over the city. you can admit it’s a beautiful view.

you sit in your armchair and stare out the window until robert texts you that he’s downstairs. you get another notification on your phone at the same time, from the gotham gazette. the headline stops you in your tracks toward the door.

“bruce wayne and mystery woman seen leaving local restaurant”

you feel a gasp get caught in your throat and your chest tightens. you can’t be mad that he’s moved on when you have too, but the pain still comes. you click on the link to the article. paparazzi pictures of him with his arm around her shoulders threaten to bring tears to your eyes. the restaurant sign behind them glows and you realize it’s the one you suggested you’d go to with him. the one you almost suggested you’d go to. you never got the chance, because he instead had his own suggestion in mind.

you close the app and sit down at the kitchen table, putting your head in your hands. it’s all starting to rush back again. that pain. that intense, overwhelming pain that takes your breath away.

your phone dings again with a text from robert, telling you to hurry up or you’ll miss your reservation. robert. not even him can make you catch your breath.

you grab your bag and head out anyway, not wanting to stand him up. you get to his car and open the door. bruce would’ve come up to your apartment and walked you down. he would’ve opened the door for you.

“hi babe,” robert says cheerfully as he leans in to kiss you. you turn your head so he just catches your cheek.

“long day?” he asks, sensing your mood.

“yeah. long day.” you say flatly.

robert tries to the fill the car ride with small talk. you can only muster the occasional one or two word response every few minutes. you get to the restaurant and robert leads you inside.

“reservation for robert?” he asks the host.

“right this way.” you get to your table and sit across from robert and open up your menu.

“i’ve heard the steak here is really good.” he says as he flips through his menu.

“hm.”

“or i’ve read that their salads are good too...”

“mm hm.”

“do you want to get a bottle of wine?”

“sure.”

“maybe an appetizer?”

“okay.”

“…these dumplings look good.”

“yeah.” you feel irritation rising.

“or the edamame—”

“jesus rob just fucking pick something.”

he closes his menu fast and all but slams it on the table.

“what the hell is your problem?” his voice rises and you feel people starting to look in your direction.

“keep your voice down.” you set your menu down too.

“no, i’m tired of this. what is going on? why are you being such an ass?”

“i’m not being an ass, you’re being annoying.”

“i’m trying to talk to you.”

“then talk to me.”

“i try but you won’t so much as look at me let alone actually engage in conversation.” he looks at you with hurt in his eyes.

“what’s going on? you’ve been acting so weird lately and it’s been freaking me out.”

“i’ve been acting how i always do.”

“no, you’re not. over the past few weeks you’ve been getting more and more distant. you never actually talk to me about what’s going on with you and you’re always angry or upset or…” he lets out a disgruntled sigh.

“i’m just worried about you.” he says quietly.

“it’s just been stressful at work. that’s all.”

“no, i know that’s not it. look, i understand that you left a lot back in gotham, including your ex.”

you look down at your lap and your cheeks get hot with anger.

“but it’s not fair to punish me for the decisions you made.”

with that you grab your bag and stand up from the table and leave the restaurant. you wave down a cab and open the door, but robert comes up behind you and closes it.

“you can’t just run away. we need to talk about this.”

“talk about what exactly, robert? the fact that i’m miserable here? the fact that not a single moment goes by without regretting leaving? the fact that i can’t sleep at night because all i can think about is him? i can’t do this! i’m stuck! i’m stuck in a city that i hate because it’s not home. i’m stuck at a job that promised me the world and i all i get is a shitty desk and a worthless title. i’m stuck in a pointless relationship with someone i know i’ll never love. i’m done, robert. i’m just… done.”

you open the car door again and get inside. you look out the window and see a tear roll down robert’s cheek. that’s all you know how to do now. spread the pain around onto other people and watch the tidal wave crash into them too.

you lie in bed that night and just let the tears flow. you pick up your phone and delete robert from your favorites list. bruce wayne still sitting there, waiting. you click on his contact and remove it too.

your eyes are puffy that next morning from crying yourself to sleep. you park your car in your spot and head inside. you sit at your desk and try to wake yourself up with a cup of coffee. you just try to get through today. one thing at a time.

after a few minutes jonathan locke walks up to you and hands you a folder.

“we have a lead for a project in metropolis i’d like you to take a look at. if all goes to plan, you can go next week and present it.”

you take the folder and open it. it’s for a renewal project that will target the growing unhoused population.

“metropolis?”

“yes. it’s far but i think you can handle it.” he says with a smile.

you can’t help but feel like he’s patronizing you. you look back down again at the folder. it’s either your desk or metropolis.

“okay.” you just say quietly.

“oh, well great. that was quick. i’ll get you set up with tim who’ll be spearheading the trip and you guys can coordinate on responsibilities.”

“okay, thanks.”

“and it’s close by gotham so you could visit your old stomping grounds too.”

jonathan walks away from your desk and to his office. you think back to that night you met him, when he gave you a folder similar to this with an almost-irresistible offer. you thought you’d be leading the division. turns out the proposal said you could be leading the division. you should’ve read the fine print.

you and tim meet up that afternoon to discuss the trip. you like tim. he’s nice, respectful, and understands you want to be doing more so he delegates a lot of his responsibilities to you. or maybe he just wants a free trip to metropolis so he’s dumping the work on you, hoping you’ll appreciate it. no matter his true intentions, you do enjoy the extra work. it helps distract you.

“oh, also,” tim stops you as you start to leave his office after your discussion.

“jonathan wanted me to let you know that we can bring a plus one on the trip, on the company’s expense. my husband is gonna fly in after the meeting, you should bring your boyfriend.”

“oh… i think i’m actually gonna be flying solo, tim.”

“oh, is everything okay with you guys? i’ve only met the guy once but he seemed pretty great.”

“um, not really... we ended things last night.”

“last night? i wouldn’t have come into work today, honestly.”

“yeah, it was pretty rough.”

“well, for the record, i lied. he kind of seemed like an ass.”

you laugh. “he isn’t so bad. we just weren’t right for each other.”

“well i can attest to that. before chris i was with this guy who i just knew wasn’t the one for me. it took meeting chris to see that though. i realized that i never saw a future with the other guy. but with chris, he’s the one i always want to be around. when we’re apart it’s like… i don’t know like—“

“like you can’t breathe. like all the air in the room has been sucked out.”

“exactly… you sound like you speak from experience.”

you just look down at the floor.

“well whoever they are, if you get the chance again, don’t let them go this time.”

you look up and smile at him.

“thanks tim, but i’m pretty sure he’s long gone. and he’s with someone else now too.”

“if he’s really the one you want to be with, the one you really see a future with, don’t let anything stand in your way. fight for it.”

you pause for a second and think about tim’s advice. you want to fight for him, you do. but what if he doesn’t want you to?

“all i’m saying, is if you’re able to see him, it’s worth it to at least try again. then you’ll at least have an answer.”

“…you’re right. the uncertainty, i just know it’ll eat away at me forever.”

“right. so where is this guy? is he here in san fran?”

“no, he’s actually back in gotham.”

“well perfect! you can take a visit while we’re in metropolis.”

“i guess i could…”

“you should. you will. do it.”

tim starts to stand up to head home for the day.

“and you’ll tell me everything when you do.” you chuckle.

“you got it, tim.”

“i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yeah, see you.”

you go sit back at your desk long after hours and think about this new plan. how are you even going to go about this? do you just show up at his home, knock on the door, and hope he answers? if he does, what do you even say?

you spend the next few days leading up to the trip trying to configure your plan for talking to bruce again. you’re more nervous about that than the actual work you’ll be doing.

you and tim sit next to each other on the flight to metropolis. you work on your computer trying to distract yourself from how nervous you are about possibly seeing him again. curiosity gets the better of you, and you search online to see where he’ll be.

“glad to see you’re using the in-flight wifi responsibly.” tim says sarcastically.

“i just…”

“if you’d have told me bruce wayne was the ex you were going to see in gotham than i might’ve given you some different advice.”

“and what would that advice be?”

“that, for one, you were stupid to let him go at all. and second, that you should go visit him on that school trip he’s doing. for that new fine arts project.”

“why there?”

“well you weren’t gonna just show up to his house and ring the doorbell, were you?”

you pause for a second and let your silence be your answer.

“okay yeah, not a good idea. trust me. rom coms do not portray that as accurately as you’d think.”

you chuckle.

“so you think i should show up at his event?” you ask.

“i think so. make it like you’re there for work. use that as an icebreaker, then you can get to talking.”

“that’s not a bad idea tim.”

“it’s a great idea. it’s right after our meeting tomorrow anyway. it’ll be perfect.”

“i’m not sure about perfect. what if he—“

“don’t torture yourself over the what-ifs. they’ll just burden you. and while i know i’ve been talking quite positively about this whole grand romantic gesture of yours… don’t get your hopes up either.”

you look over at him with furrowed brows.

“i heard someone say once that expectations are just premeditated disappointments. just… don’t set yourself up to get hurt.” he says quietly.

“well now i’m a little confused, tim. because you’re the one who’s been urging me to do this in the first place. and now you’re telling me not to get my hopes up?”

“you’re right. i’m sorry. just… tell him what you need to say. not what you think he wants or needs to hear. not what you think you should say. not what someone else would say. you have things you need to get off your chest, whatever they may be. and you need to speak them out, otherwise they’ll suffocate you.”

you get quiet again and realize he’s right. you’ve been so hung up on what you should do or say and didn’t stop to think about what you actually want to tell him.

“you’re right.” you say, barely above a whisper.

“i know i’m right.”

you smile and grab tim’s hand.

“thanks, tim. you’ve been one of my few friends since i moved here.”

“what can i say? i’m a peach.” he says with a smile and you laugh.

“can i just ask one thing?” he says softly. “…stay in touch?”

you just look at him, his face plastered with a sadness you’ve never seen from him before.

“if all goes well with… bruce wayne—god that’s still so weird to think about. but anyway, if you two get back together, and you move back home to gotham, and you two live happily ever after…” you laugh lightly.

“promise to stay in touch?”

“…of course, tim.” you smile at him. he squeezes your hand and smiles back, then he lets go and goes back to his in-flight crossword puzzle. you look back down at your computer and find the article detailing bruce’s trip to a gotham middle school where he’ll be implanting new support and funding to its, and every other gotham school’s, fine arts program. you sigh and close your laptop.

you spend the rest of the flight with your headphones in, listening to music and staring out the window. you know it’s a cliche, but you don’t care. this plan of yours and tim’s hangs over your head, that cloud ready to pour at any moment. you suppose the floodgates will open if things don’t go well tomorrow. the rain will come and the tidal wave will crash and you’ll be left to pick up the soaked pieces of your shattered heart once again. as though fate herself has heard your dark thoughts, the plane goes through a rain cloud and wet droplets scatter over the window, blurring your vision, each one shaking in the wind as if laughing at your melancholy. you just turn your music up and close your eyes, hoping sleep will find you before you land in metropolis.

of course, the sweet release of slumber doesn’t come and the plane jolts as it touches down. tim helps you carry your bags out of the overhead bins and out of the gate, and the two of you find a cab to your hotel. you discuss your meeting and go over your key points as you ride through downtown. when you get to the hotel and up to your room, you realize the time difference is working against you. the sky outside is dark and the stars are beginning to shine through the city lights, but your body is adjusted to the pacific time zone now. it’s not until almost three hours later that you are finally able to find rest. all the while thinking not about the meeting tomorrow, but of bruce. and what you want to say to him. you trust the words will come when they need to, and you close your eyes.

the next morning, you meet tim in the lobby of the hotel and you take a cab to your destination. your mind is preoccupied, and it shows during the meeting. you stumble over your words and forget your lines. you hope this doesn’t backfire on tim as he steps in and leads the pitch with confidence. his quick thinking proves successful, as you’re met with approving smiles and impressed nods from the room. you’re just glad tim was able to do well. to be truthful, you don’t care very much about your job security today. in the lobby, tim calls a ride for himself back to the hotel, and one for you to the train station.

“are you sure about this, tim? you don’t think it’s a mistake?”

“don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now.”

“well, i just…”

“look,” tim puts his hand on your shoulder.

“i told you, just say what you need to say. everything will fall into place as they should. you’re doing the right thing.”

you let out a nervous sigh and look down again with tears in your eyes.

“what are you so afraid of? that he’ll say no?”

“no… i’m afraid he’ll say yes.” you say quietly, fighting back the tears.

“if things go well, if we get back together… who’s to say it won’t go wrong again? i don’t think i could handle going through that grief again.”

“just remember what i said before. once you’ve got it, don’t let it go. no matter what. fight for it. for him.” tim is getting choked up now too. he pulls you in for a hug and you will yourself not to cry on his pressed suit.

“now go. your ride’s here.” tim smiles at you as he opens the door to his separate taxi.

“good luck.”

“thank you tim.” you smile back and he closes the door. the car drives off and you’re standing there, giving yourself one last chance to back out before making your way to gotham. you open the door and get inside.

your heart is racing the entire ride to the train station. you feel yourself switch to autopilot as you purchase your ticket and get on the train car, choosing a window seat. you sit there like on the plane, your headphones in and your mind full. as you get closer to gotham, you see the blue sky and white fluffy clouds fade to the familiarity of the dark grey and rainy empyrean. after being away for so long… you find this gloomy atmosphere quite beautiful.

the train takes you to the heart of the city, where you take yet another taxi to the school. these different modes of transportation you’ve taken these last few days have at least been offering you some time to think. though those thoughts have not been the most pleasant, you still appreciate the solace the rides bring.

the car stops right in front of the school.

this is it.

you step outside, the rain being uncooperative with your entrance into the building. you inform the woman at the front desk you’re here for the outreach event and present your work id. she directs you to the gymnasium down the corridor. you walk quickly, nearly jogging to the gym. when you enter the room, you’re met with a large crowd of school staff members, students, members of the press… and there’s bruce, handing a violin to a child who’s face beams. bruce is smiling too, and he says something to the student before they walk back to their group of friends. the kids compare their gifts excitedly and you smile at their childlike enthusiasm and appreciation. when you look away and back towards bruce, you see that he’s looking right at you. you lock eyes and he begins making his way toward you. you try to gauge his facial expression, is it sadness? disdain? confusion, happiness? the closer he gets, the harder his face becomes to read. he weaves through the crowd, avoiding cameras flashing in his eyes and reporters sticking microphones up to his lips. finally, he’s standing right in front of you. and he smiles.

“you’re… here… what are you…”

“i had a meeting in metropolis this morning and i decided to take the trip here, to see gotham again.”

“and you just so happened to stumble in here?”

the press seems to have gotten bored of your conversation, because now you’re alone with bruce in the back of the gym.

“well i wanted to see… what this new project was. it’s amazing. these kids… you’re changing lives here, bruce.”

those feelings start to flood back. those feelings you got the last time you were in a setting similar to this one, when you saw how great bruce is with the kids, how much he cares about them. your heart somehow starts beating even quicker.

“it’s all because of you. if you hadn’t given that first pitch… none of this would be happening.” he replies.

you smile and look down.

you and bruce continue talking there, in the back of the gymnasium. you talk about your job, about san francisco, about how your life was going. you decide not to be entirely truthful for this reunion, not wanting to put a damper on the more than nice conversation. bruce tells you how he’s been too, how he’s been busy with new project after new project, how well the company is doing. how well he’s been doing. he seems happy. a part of you almost wishes he seemed a little sad that you’re there. that he’d be brimming with regret for letting you go. you start to feel guilty over your selfishness.

“well, i’m glad to hear that you’ve been doing well, bruce.”

“i’m glad you’re doing well too.”

“and you’re… happy? with everything? i mean with your um new—“

as if he read your mind, he stops you from finishing your sentence.

“i was hoping you wouldn’t see that. that was just a… a one time thing. i met her at a gala and we went out for dinner but i haven’t seen or even talked to her since. i just didn’t… feel right about it.”

you feel a sense of relief flood over you.

“and you? you’re not… seeing…” he starts.

“oh no, i mean, not anymore.”

“oh… okay.”

you just smile at each other for a second, then he suddenly takes your hand.

“come on. we’ve got a lot more to hand out… and i could use the help.”

you know he has a large group of team members standing by, waiting to help in the continuation of the gift giving, so you’re surprised at his request for you to help too. the two of you resume handing out the items. more instruments, paint sets, books, and more. it’s like christmas has come early, with every child getting something they’ve always wanted. you’re smiling more than you have in weeks, months. bruce is elated too, as he and the other team members provide these resources to this school. this specific event was to promote this program, but every gotham school will get this opportunity for new items as well. finally, the school day ends, the press leaves, and you’re standing the middle of the gymnasium. it’s quiet now with just a few more people here packing things up. you take this opportunity of peace to catch your breath and prepare yourself for what’s to come. bruce starts making his way toward you again and clench your hands into fists repeatedly.

“bruce, i have something i—“

“would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” he cuts you off.

“sorry, were you going to say something?” he asks.

“no, i… i was actually going to ask you the same thing.”

“great. we can head out now. alfred’s already started cooking.” bruce smiles at you and he leads you out of the school and to his car.

you make small talk as he drives you to his home. you forgot how grand it is as you step inside, alfred greeting you with a smile.

“it is so wonderful to see you again.”

“thank you alfred.”

“dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

alfred goes back to the kitchen to finish up.

“fire?” bruce says, starting to make his way toward the living room fireplace you’re all too familiar with.

“yes, that sounds nice.”

he lights the logs and sits down on the sofa next to you.

“i’m glad you agreed to come tonight. i was hoping we’d get a chance to talk.”

“me too.” you smile lightly.

“the truth is… i—“

the light clanking of dishes distracts you and bruce from your conversation as alfred begins setting the dinnerware on the table.

you and bruce stand and thank alfred for the meal. you eat in mostly silence, the occasional compliment of the food filling the quiet void. bruce takes your dishes to the kitchen and cleans them once again and you go sit back down on the sofa, the orange and yellow light of the flame illuminating your troubled mind. you need to get this off your chest.

bruce comes back and sits down.

“bruce, there are some things i need to say to you…”

you grab his hands in yours and look down.

“i haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since i left. i haven’t slept, i haven’t been happy. i… even tried seeing someone else. work didn’t help, i hated being so far from home… and i hated being so far from you.”

you finally look up at him.

“i love you, bruce. i’m in love with you. i have regretted every single day not telling you before. i hate that i didn’t show you how much you meant to me. and i hate that i left just because i was scared of what you’d say back.”

you choke back tears and look down again.

“you’re the moonlight that breaks through the clouds at night and into my bedroom window. you’re the soft fall of snowflakes that land on my eyelashes. you’re the rain that makes my hair wet and reminds me i’m still human. you’re everything to me, bruce. you are everything.”

you look back up at him and see tears in his eyes. he puts his hand gently on your cheek and kisses you. it’s slow, it’s gentle, it’s tender. it’s love.

he pulls away and chuckles softly.

“i have loved you since i met you. i’m everything to you? without you, i’d fade to nothing but a pile of ash. you being gone, tore me apart more than anything ever has before. even alfred can attest to that.”

you chuckle lightly and he laughs too.

“if i’m everything to you, then you’re more than everything to me.” he pulls you in again for another kiss.

“if i’m the moon then you’re the stars.”

he kisses your right cheek.

“if i’m the snow then you’re the fire.”

he kisses your other cheek.

“if i’m the rain then you’re the sun.”

he kisses your forehead.

“you’re my entire life.”

he kisses your lips.

you sigh as he runs his hands down your back and onto your hips. he picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist and stands up. you continue kissing as he takes you upstairs and to his bed. you run your hand through his hair, down his neck, over his arms. you want him, all of him. and he wants you.

suddenly the tidal wave secedes. the rains don’t come. the dark grey cumulus fades away. and now your mind is only occupied with bruce.

you thought once before that nothing beautiful lasts long in gotham city. but you were wrong. one thing has lasted. and it’s him.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

#bruce wayne #fanfic #bruce wayne x reader #dc #alfred pennyworth #my fic #pictures from pinterest #batman #the batman

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yumeyooa · 3 years ago

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revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢ pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!!

navigation | collection masterlist

Life couldn’t be any better.

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays.

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work.

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold.

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it.

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life.

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through.

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end.

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band.

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you.

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different.

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely.

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way.

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time.

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps.

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all.

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!"

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes.

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers.

He genuinely seemed to care.

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…"

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for.

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you.

But he would have never expected this.

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook.

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry.

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room.

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon."

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her.

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies.

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared.

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise.

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place.

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free.

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much.

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years.

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?"

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty.

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group.

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do.

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm.

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it.

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was.

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you.

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends.

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju.

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while.

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking.

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence,

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke.

In a way, it was kind of cute.

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers.

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined.

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him.

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....”

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep.

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking.

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock.

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free.

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will.

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you.

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook.

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family.

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other.

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Why was he acting like this anyway?

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight.

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood.

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier.

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier.

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before?

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you.

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be?

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore.

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him?

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end.

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help?

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb.

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen.

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly.

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them.

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend.

It was you.

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you.

Well, Jungkook be damned.

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure.

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing.

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing.

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning.

You went into all of this, risking everything.

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room.

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over.

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him.

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea.

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny.

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right?

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating.

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating,

Because immediately you got hooked.

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.”

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart.

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself.

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary.

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out.

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety.

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years.

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out?

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments.

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain.

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!”

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you.

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life.

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had.

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him.

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same.

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?”

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady.

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!”

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot.

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering.

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did,

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories.

It was you.

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that.

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own.

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit.

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?”

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps.

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster.

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were.

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable.

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?”

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!”

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you.

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?”

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other.

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached.

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!”

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about.

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system.

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out?

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too.

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes.

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace.

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control.

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours.

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread.

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years?

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years.

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free.

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life.

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world.

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that?

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?”

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you.

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat.

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?”

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again.

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.”

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it.

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t.

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers.

“But what the fuck is this?”

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end.

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care.

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault?

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it.

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha.

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part.

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good.

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end.

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you.

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right?

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it.

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will.

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done.

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like.

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world.

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much.

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you.

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen?

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you,

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook.

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process.

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown.

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you.

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again.

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not.

And he was the only one to blame.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk

#bts x reader #bangtan x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #bts jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction

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vneuns · 3 years ago

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— “SIGN AN NDA” + Sapnap

author’s note(s): i was actually gonna cry if this shit didn’t save tbh. but shoutout to art and someone who shall not be named for helping me out ily mwa mwa

cw: cursing , talk of suggestive themes ( inspired by bils new song <3 )

The bright sunlight from the window next to your bed woke you up as you sighed groggily knowing it was too early for anyone in their right mind to be awake.

You had lots of things to do today and you knew your body was doing this on purpose. It was as if it wanted you to face the wrath of your manager and makeup artist when they noticed the bags under your eyes.

The body behind you groaned before throwing their arm over your stomach pulling you in closer to their warmth. Mornings like this were your favorite cuddled up with your boyfri “sneaky link” as he groaned about not wanting to leave your expensive bed.

This- thi- whatever you want to call it was suppose to be a one time thing. You two had met through a few mutual friends and neither of you were looking for anything serious so one thing led to another and well.. you know how that went.

And after talking a bit in the morning you found out you had a lot more in common than you had thought. Well you also weren’t really thinking about during the .. events.

So after exchanging numbers it became a common thing for you to text each other randomly wanting the other to come over.

For activities…

Knowing you weren’t gonna be able to go back to sleep for a little while you blindly placed your hand on your bedside table reaching for your phone. After knocking over a few things you decided to stop being lazy and say up slightly taking it off the charger before laying back down.

“quit moving around.” sapnap grumbled into the back of your neck.

“get up, big baby.”

he mumbled something incoherent rubbing his slightly rough calloused thumb on your exposed stomach tiredly.

you bit your lip at the sentimental action. He was always doing things like this to you and then when you’d call him out on it he’d just brush it off and pretend as if he hadn't heard you.

Your phone buzzed with a notification which brought you out of your daze and unlocked it, going to check all of your social medias.

Once you scrolled for a little while and didn’t find anything too interesting you decided it was time to start getting ready and then a headline in bold mentioning your name caught your eye.

you clicked the link as you read the article about you having a potential new boyfriend after pictures leaked of you walking sap to his car after he had come over for dinner.

There were multiple words used to describe what was happening since you were leaning down on his car, your head slightly in his window.

The one used the most was kiss.

“You’re such a fucking dumbass.” You mumbled arms interlocked with the gingers next to you as you walked down the slight hill to his car. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who called me.” He told you rolling his eyes playfully taking out his car keys and unlocking the car.

“Don’t act like you weren’t the one who called me.” You deepened your voice slightly making a face and hand movements.

“You answered.” Sapnap unhooked his arm from yours as he opened the driver side door getting inside. “You’d probably send some assassin after me.”

The thought of that pondered your mind at one point when you thought he was ghosting you for a few days when it turns out he had lost his phone but it would’ve made you seem like you actually had feelings for the boy or you were some type of psychotic girlfriend.

Startling you out of your thoughts your eyes snapped over to him when the window started going down.

“Whew look at this ride.” A catcall like whistle left your lips as you leant inside looking at the interior.

“Could be my sugar daddy if you wanted.”

Sap laughed turning off the ac shaking his head. “You wanna live off of cereal and ramen for days at a time?”

The idea sounded.. not great at all. Going from something lavish to .. that. Wasn’t in your best interest.

“M’ ok thanks though.”

“Text me when you get home ya?”

“Aw look at you caring for my well being.”

“I don’t care i just don’t need you to die right after leaving my humble adobe.”

Sapnap shook his head before leaning a bit closer to you your lips inches apart.

“It’s freezing and you’re wearing shorts and a tank top. go inside.”

Of course they were there that day. They were always there. Creeping in the corners trying to pry into your personal life.

When your fame started to grow you knew what you were getting yourself into. But what you didn’t sign up for was having your privacy invaded in your own home.

You didn’t put your “love life” out there so it was nothing anyone should have an opinion on. Though it was the internet and just because you personally didn’t want it out there that’s where it was going to be whether you liked it or not.

“So warm in the morning.” Without any warning his arms slotted around you squeezing impossibly tighter. “Like a little teddy bear.”

“God you’re annoying.” It was out there. Nothing you could do now so you had to embrace it aka act like it never happened. “make me breakfast.”

“Go pour a bowl of cereal.” You managed to twist around in his hold to face him. His eyes were barely open a small barely there smile on his face. “You still haven’t gotten me the one I like yet.”

He knew exactly how to get whatever he wanted out of you one way or another. So after a bit of random “Pillow talk.” you got up and made some crepes. The two of you talked for a little bit before it was time for him to go and get ready for a stream he had in a few hours.

“Hey umm..” His greenish grayish eyes looked up at you giving you his full attention as he tied his shoes.

“I texted my manager a few minutes and he’s gonna send you an NDA.”

The boys eyebrows furrowed at the words that left your mouth.

“An NDA..? wh-why for what?”

“Just don’t want paparazzi coming up to you or anything.” Your eyesight moved to the floor as you picked at your cuticles.

“We’ve been seeing each other for months. Why are you bringing this up now?”

You chewed at your bottom lip as he got up from the couch in your peripheral.

“My career and all of that.”

“You know what fuck you Y/n don’t fucking call me about all your problems or text me asking me to come over because you’re fucking lonely.” And with that he stormed out

@heyskeppy @inniterhq @basilly @yamturds @dysfunctionalcrab @siriushxney @sqpnap @tinyegg @ttakinou @charnease @i-mmunity @b3l0v3ds @alice-blue-skies

#mcyt x reader #mcyt x yn #sapnap x reader #fluff #angst #sapnap fanfic #sapnap fanfiction #sapnap ff #sapnap x gn!reader #dream x gn!reader #george x gn!reader #dream ff #george ff #Spotify

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procrastinatingnerd · 3 years ago

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Hi everyone! So this was my first time taking part in the @osemanversebigbang but I had so much fun!! I can't wait to read everyone's entries! 💜

Title: Angel Rahimi And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Lunch Break

Characters: Angel, Juliet, Rowan, Jimmy, Lister, Bliss, two of Angel’s future uni friends (OCs).

Spoilers? Minor spoilers of important events in “I Was Born For This”.

Word Count: 3.6k

Ships: Bicci, one joke about Juliet/Rowan.

~Joan of Arc (Probably)

“I am so fucking tired”

“Right, time’s up, put your pens down.” The exam officer says from the front of the room. I scribble one last sentence before my hand gives out, and I all but throw my pen onto the desk, sighing as dramatically as I can. This week is a fucking nightmare. Exams and assignments are the piss. Fuck uni, I’m ready to drop out. Or drop dead. Either works, honestly.

As I leave the exam hall, I walk past some people from the students’ union. They’re handing out flyers for the Christmas ball next week. My housemates are all planning on going, but my friends and I planned our present swap for that night, so we’re going to spend it eating a fuck ton of snacks and watching the cheesiest Christmas films we can find. I can’t wait, I bought them each a bag of their favourite sweets from the American candy shop, it's going to be so much fun!

But that’s next week. Right now, all I want is to sit at a table that doesn’t have an exam paper on it, and eat something very greasy and very unhealthy. There’s a pizza place just on the edge of campus, run by some of the culinary arts students, and they make the best sauce ever. It’s pretty cheap too, which makes it a favourite for most people, especially at the end of a semester, when everyone’s bank accounts are running low.

I have about an hour until I need to be back in the exam hall, so I take full advantage of the outdoor seating and collapse into a chair after ordering. My pizza is brought out to me not long after, and I breathe in the smell. Nothing has smelt more gorgeous than the slices sitting in front of me. It’s a surprisingly warm day, for December at least, and for a moment, everything feels calm. I can hear a bird singing in a tree somewhere, other students are hanging around campus, most with their noses in their phones or in textbooks, and I actually let myself relax for a bit. I’ve done all the revision I can for this next exam, and I’m in desperate need of a break. I deserve this.

I pick up my first slice of pizza, and bring it up to my mouth. As I’m about to take a bite, however, my phone rings. I put the pizza down with a sigh and answer the phone without looking at who’s calling. Mum probably sensed I wasn’t doing any work, and is calling to check up on me.

“Hello?” I say tiredly.

“Angel, hi! Is this a good time??” I grin at the sound of Juliet’s voice.

“Hell yeah, it’s a perfect time! What’s up?”

“Wait, you don’t know why I’m calling?” Juliet says hesitantly. Shit. What have I forgotten now? I know it’s not her birthday. Wait, is it mine?? I swear exams rot your brain, have I actually forgotten my own birthday?

“No…?” I ask after internally monologuing for way too long.

“Oh my god, you don’t know??” Juliet screeches in my ear, “Angel go look at your phone, it’s urgent!”

Now very concerned, I put Juliet on speaker and, for the first time all morning, actually read the notifications filling my lock screen. I open the Twitter news one, and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Holy shit.”

On my screen is a news article with a headline that reads, “THE ARK’S JIMMY KAGA-RICCI AND LISTER BIRD’S SECRET RELATIONSHIP EXPOSED”, and just below it sits a large photo of Jimmy and Lister, standing outside a pub, kissing. I don’t believe it.

“Holy fu- Hold on a second. Mate, isn’t that the pub by Piero’s house?!” I say, bringing my phone as close to my face as I can, as if that’ll help me see better. There’s a loud shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then I hear a gasp.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Juliet says. “Rowan said they were going on holiday, but I thought he meant abroad or something.” I smile at that. Ever since our little jaunt to Kent last summer, Juliet and I have kept in touch with the boys. We even have a group chat now; us and them and even Bliss is in it. I’m so glad we stayed friends.

At first, Rowan was really quiet, and if he did speak he and Juliet would almost always end up arguing, but they’ve been getting along quite well lately. I’m not saying I ship it or anything, I’ve learnt my lesson there, but I have to say, fangirl-to enemies-to lovers would make a wicked fanfiction trope.

“Did you see any of this coming?” Juliet continues. “Surely Jimmy would have said something to you?”

“He said he was dating someone, but didn’t want to give details because they were taking things slow. Well, that and that celebrity phone hacking scandal freaked him right the fuck out, remember?” I say.

"That's

right, he stopped talking on the group chat for like two weeks, didn’t he?” Juliet giggles back. “Well, nevertheless, I’m happy for them. They’re cute together.”

“Yeah, they are.” I grin again. “Oh my god, poor Rowan though! I’d hate to live with a couple, especially a new one! It’d be nauseating.”

“Oh I know, right? And imagine what’ll happen when they have their first fight!” Juliet gasps again. I shudder at the thought.

“I’m muting the group chat when that happens.” I joke.

“Not a bad idea.” Juliet laughs back, then pauses. “Oh, Angel, I’m sorry I’ve got the get going, but do you want to skype later?”

“Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a revision session at 6, but I should be free by 9ish?”

“Sounds perfect! See you then!” Juliet says, and with that, she’s gone, and I’m back to sitting alone with my pizza.

Jimmy and Lister. Holy shit. I don’t think anyone in the fandom saw this coming. Everything has been about Jowan, since the fandom started growing it’s the only ship that ever existed. No one bothered writing fics about any other pairings. The only Jimmy/Lister fics I ever came across were platonic ones, and even they made sure to mention Jimmy’s boyfriend Rowan.

Oh god, I hope they’re okay. The fans got so crazy when Bliss and Rowan’s relationship was exposed. Jimmy/Lister is the final nail in the Jowan coffin. Jimmy must be having the panic attack of his life! I’ve got to-

My phone rings again.

I look down at the screen, and see Jimmy’s name. I take a deep breath, and answer.

“Jimmy, hi! How are-”

“Have you seen it??”

“Yes.”

“Oh god. This isn’t how we wanted to tell you guys.”

“You sure? Because getting caught by the national press worked so well for you last time.” I tease. Silence. Oops, probably not the best thing to remind him of right now.

“Jimmy, you still there?” I say carefully. There’s a slight rustle on his end, which means he probably just nodded. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. The fans will move on. They already did with Jowan, right?”

“But what if something happens again? Something like-”

“It won’t. You guys have better security now, and you’re doing less public events. You’re going to be fine.” I hope and pray that I’m saying the right things. Jimmy and I have gotten close lately, but I’m nowhere near as good at helping him deal with his anxiety as Rowan and Lister are. There’s more silence, until finally, Jimmy speaks again.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right. Thanks, Angel.”

“Course I’m right! If there’s one thing I know, it’s fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs, and I grin back. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. This is happening to Lister too, and no doubt Rowan and Bliss will be there to help you. Just talk to them.”

“Thank you Angel, I’ll go do that now.”

“Perfect! Love you Jim, I’ll text you later.” I say, and the call ends.

He’ll be okay. He’s got too many people who love him not to be. I take another breath and put my phone down on the table. As soon as I do, however, it buzzes again, and I see Jimmy is trying to facetime me. Now very concerned, I answer it and hold the phone up so he can see my face properly.

“Jimmy, are you okay, what’s happened??” I ask anxiously, but he looks fine. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“Nothing, I’m just talking to the others, like you said.” He says. It’s only me and him on the call. I stare at him in silence for a moment.

“Jimmy, mate… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not any of them” I say slowly, and to my surprise, Jimmy laughs.

“Yeah I know, but I was kind of hoping to have you here, too, if that’s okay?” He says sheepishly. “It’s okay if you’re busy, it’s just that… I don’t know, you’re good with this stuff and you make me feel calm? Sorry, I know that’s a lot to just dump on you.” Jimmy doesn’t look at me directly, and I start to feel tears in my eyes.

“Well damn, Jim, I guess if you truly love me that much, I can stick around for a bit.” I laugh, and quickly glance at the time. “My lunch break is only halfway over, anyway, so I have plenty of time to hang out while you talk to the others.”

Jimmy seems to let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, and grins.

Just as I’m about to start talking again, I hear a ping, and Lister’s face appears on screen, followed by Rowan and Bliss.

“Hey Jimjam, you okay?” Rowan asks, looking as calm as ever. “Oh hey Angel.” He adds. I give him an awkward smile.

“Wait, Angel's here?” Bliss interrupts before Jimmy can answer. “Nice, how’s the week from hell going? Didn’t think we’d hear from you until you’d made it through.”

“Yeah it’s rough, but I’m getting there. This is a welcome distraction though.” I grin at her.

“So you’ve seen the pictures then. They look good, right?” Lister chimes in, before correcting himself. “I mean, it’s horrible they found us, fucking pricks, but you’ve got to admit we look good.”

“You can be so self-centred sometimes.” Bliss laughs.

“Come on Lister, this isn’t a joke.” Rowan chides him.

“Well, I guess he isn’t wrong..” Jimmy mumbles nervously and I see him smile a bit.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me!” Lister argues back at Rowan, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s still not something to laugh about.” Rowan says firmly. “Cecily’s already on damage control, cancelling some events, beefing up the security at others, and giving the tabloids hell. She’s also let your grandad know, Jimmy.”

“Wait, aren’t you guys all down there already?” I ask, confused.

“Nah we got back last night. That picture was taken when we went out for lunch the other day. Took their time printing it.” Lister says.

“Probably needed time to pad out their articles. Seriously, how can they write so many pages about two people dating?” Bliss adds.

“Probably whining about how Jowan is now well and truly dead.” Rowan rolls his eyes again. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy about that part.” I cringe slightly as he says that. I will never not regret being one of the Jowan fangirls.

“So Cecily’s already got a plan? That’s good, that’s a bit of a relief.” Jimmy speaks up, looking visibly more relaxed than he had sounded over the phone earlier.

“Yeah she’s got it sorted, so we can start planning our Christmas party!” Lister says, making the others groan.

“Lister what the hell makes you think we should be throwing a massive fucking party right now?!” Rowan says, his voice growing louder. Lister goes quiet, looking like he wants to shrink into his seat, before eventually speaking up again.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything big, I just mean… Angel, you’re gonna be in London with Juliet, right? Come over, drag Bliss with you, Jimmy can invite his grandad, Rowan you can bring Jade, and there you go, that’s our party!”

“That’s...actually a good idea.” Rowan says, surprised.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun!” Jimmy adds.

“I’m up for it, Angel, do you think Juliet will wanna come?” Bliss says.

“Hell yeah she would, let’s do it!” I reply with a massive smile on my face. Partying with Bliss and the boys sounds like the best way to spend my Christmas London trip. I’ll make sure to tell Juliet about it when I talk to her later. As I start planning all the food I’m going to bring over, and wondering what the boys’ flat will look like at Christmas, the conversation starts up again.

“You sure you’re doing alright, Jimmy? I can come back home if you need me to.” Rowan says, focusing things on the issue at hand again.

“No no, don’t worry, stay with your family. They’d kill me if I made you miss out on spending time with them.” Jimmy jokes. “I’ve got Lister here, and Cecily’s number if I need it. My head isn’t giving me too much grief right now, anyway.”

“Wait, Lister, you’re there with him?” Bliss asks.

“Yeah, check it out!” Lister says, before picking up his phone and moving. He takes us out of what I think was his room, through a hallway and comes out into a large living room, where we can see Jimmy on a sofa looking at his phone. “Say hi to the chat, Jim!”

Everyone laughs as Jimmy gives an awkward wave to Lister’s phone. Lister then hangs up and launches himself into view of Jimmy’s screen, and the two shuffle about until they’re practically sitting on top of each other, faces

squished together so the tiny phone camera captures them both. I hate how cute they look together.

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jimmy,” Rowan says, smiling for probably the first time this whole call.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jimmy smiles back. “This whole situation is terrifying, and I’m more than ready to hide in my room and not see another mad fangirl for the rest of my life, but... if I did that we’d never get to hang out with Angel again.” He finishes, biting his lip as if unsure of whether or not the joke will hit.

“Uh..ouch!” I clap my hand on top of my heart dramatically and laugh, while the others join in. “I’ll have you know I’ve abandoned my fangirl ways. Mostly. Sort of. Okay, not completely but I’m not shipping real people anymore, so that’s something, right?!”

Lister is giving Jimmy a look of what I can only assume is pride for making a decent joke during a time of peak anxiety, Rowan has his head in his hands, probably contemplating his life choices now that Lister seems to be rubbing off on Jimmy, and Bliss still looks shocked that such a joke came out of Jimmy’s mouth, not Lister’s. When things calm down again, I check the time and speak up again.

“Well this has been fun Jim, but I’m afraid I have mad fangirl duties to be getting back to. Shrines to build, fanfiction to write, you know how it is.” I say sarcastically.

“Thanks again, Angel, for being here, and listening. And you’d better be right about that fandom drama.” Jimmy laughs again, although this time I see his smile falter a bit.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, moving as close to the screen as I can without squishing my face on it. “Things will settle down before you know it, in the meantime, we’re all here for you. You’re not alone in this.” Rowan and Bliss nod in agreement, and I see Lister hug Jimmy closer. Jimmy takes a breath and nods as well.

“Thanks Angel. And good luck with your exam. We’ll see you over the holidays.” He smiles.

“Yeah you got this Angel, go smash it!” Bliss chimes in, giving me a thumbs up and a grin. I say one last goodbye to them all, and hang up.

I look back down at my pizza, still uneaten. I need to stop letting myself get distracted during phone calls. I can eat and talk to my friends at the same time. I’m usually a master at it.

“Fereshteh!” I look up again. Either I’m going loony, or someone just said-

“FERESHTEH!” I turn around and see Mollie and Christina barrelling towards me, with the most excitement I’ve ever seen on a students’ face during exam season. They crash into my table and both start talking at once.

“Have you seen??”

“Did you know??”

“How long have they been together?!”

“Oh my god is this why you won’t tell us about what happened in Kent?!”

“Woah, easy on the interrogation! Seriously, you guys need to work on your interview skills.” I put my hands up in surrender and laugh. Mollie rolls her eyes at me.

“So? Did they tell you or what?” She asks again. I roll my eyes back at her.

“You know I don’t want to tell you guys anything about the boys. They trust me, and I’m not going to fuck that up because of some shit a tabloid prints.”

“How dare you appeal to our morality and ethics, we want gossip dammit!” Christina giggles, lightly banging her fist down on the table.

“Then stick to the Twitter pages.” I stick my tongue out at her. Mollie and Christina are two of my housemates, and are part of the Ark fandom. I never planned on telling them about Kent, but they figured out who I was thanks to the pictures of me and Jimmy on the train. I didn’t think you could tell it was me, but fangirls are like master detectives. They figured it out in less than a week. They haven’t told anyone though, they’re good mates.

“So how are you feeling about all of this? Whether you knew or not, having it out in the press like this is a lot to handle, especially after last time.” Mollie says, now in serious mode.

“It is a lot, definitely, but they’ll be fine. They’ve had this happen before and they know what to expect from the fans. I just wish I could be there for them.” I say, sitting back in my chair.

“I get

that, it must suck that you guys are so far apart now.” Christina chimes in.

“I mean it’s not like we ever lived close to each other before. The only reason we even crossed paths over the summer was because I was staying with a friend. But yeah, being away from them all is kind of hard sometimes.” I sigh dramatically, making Mollie and Christina grin.

“Are you going to visit them over Christmas?” Christina asks.

“I’m definitely going to visit my friend in London again, for a day or two, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to see the boys.” I quickly lie. “They cut back on public events but they’re still really busy most of the time. And this,” I gesture to my phone “definitely won’t help.”

“We’ll keep an eye on fandom updates for you, and try to shut any mentions of Jowan down,” Mollie says, reaching across the table and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeeze hers back and give her a grateful smile. I mostly stopped interacting with the fandom after meeting the boys, reading fanfiction, and discussing theories with other fans just feels weird and creepy to do when the people you’re talking about are your friends. So it’s nice that I have Mollie and Christina looking out for them, and doing what I can’t. Christina has a pretty big following on Tumblr, and Mollie’s a Twitter ace, so I trust them to hold their ground with the fandom.

“Okay, you don’t have to give us any details, but genuinely, what do you think of Lister and Jimmy as a couple? Because I don’t think the fandom could handle a breakup.” Christina says after a while, making me laugh.

“Pfft, yeah I don’t think the boys could handle a breakup, either.” I smile. “But honestly? I think they’ll be good for each other. Lister is good at helping Jimmy relax and step out of his anxiety bubble, and Jimmy can help reign in Lister’s chaotic energy. Plus they’re freaking cute together, I mean just look at this picture!” I finish, gesturing dramatically to my phone again.

“They are so cute!” Mollie nods in agreement. “I’m actually shocked no one thought to ship them together before.”

“That’s the Jowan storm, for you,” Christina adds. “Can’t believe we ever shipped that.”

“So gross.” I shudder at the thought. Suddenly the alarm I’d set this morning went off, making us all jump.

“What’s that?” Mollie asks. I check the screen and practically leap out of my seat.

“Oh shit, my exam starts in 10 minutes!” I say, gathering my stuff up as quickly as I can. I say my goodbyes to Mollie and Christina and start running back across campus to the exam hall.

I make it just in time, much to the invigilator’s chagrin, check my bag in at the desk at the back of the hall, and collapse into my assigned seat. The exam starts, and it’s only when it does that my stomach reminds me that I never actually ate lunch. Shit.

I start to silently scold myself for being so stupid, when my mind starts drifting to the video chat with Jimmy and the others. He and Lister looked so comfortable with each other. Makes sense, they've known each other for so long. But even still, Jimmy looked so much happier once Lister sat down with him, and Lister himself practically seemed at home with Jimmy’s arms wrapped around him. I smile at my exam paper.

I’m so happy for them.

#osemanverse #i was born for this #iwbft #bicci #angel rahimi #jimmy kaga ricci #lister bird #juliet schwartz #bliss lai

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kaitycole · 4 years ago

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Love Two: the hard love

Summary: Miya Atsumu is an adventure and a half which is exciting for you after a mundane high school relationship. But what price has to be paid in order for you to be in his world?

Parings: Atsumu x Reader

Word Count: 7187 (my apologies)

Warnings: Angst. Toxic relationship tropes. Toxic behaviors. Slight physical violence (towards the end - it’s a wrist grab and a slap). Adult language.

Rating: 16+

A/N: This series is based on an article that talks about how in live, most of us experience three types of love. I’ll link the article in the series master post for anyone who wants to read it!

Golden yellow hair.

Chocolate brown eyes.

Burnt cinnamon cologne.

These images burn into your mind as tears sting your dry eyes. You swallow hard, trying to get the lump in your throat to dislodge but it only reminds you of how dry your throat is, how sore it is from screaming. Your head lays heavy on your pillow, a dull ache wraps around your head and you aren’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or the crying you’ve done over the last three days.

You two had a fight, another fight, the same old fight. You screamed, he brushed it off, leaving in a rush and slamming the door while you slid down the doorframe, sobbing. You thought that you’d be used to this, the constant up and downs that came with loving Miya Atsumu, the rollercoaster of emotions that came with the cycle of being together, breaking up and then getting back together. You’d been doing it for three years now, on and off again, but never being off for long before he dragged you back into his arms, not that you ever refused.

Your head hangs to the side as you slowly push yourself off the floor, your body too tired after fighting to climb into your bed the night before. For a moment you consider crawling down the hall before your pride takes over as you stand up, legs stiff but wobbly at the same time as your feet drag you to the couch in the living room. You aren’t sure what time it is, your eyes slowly adjusting to the large amount of sunlight coming into the apartment, the apartment he surprised you with and you had loved, now it felt like a prison.

Your phone starts buzzing and when you look, there’s several notifications from your two best friends Kaneko Yua and Higashi Naoki. You shuffle to the kitchen, grabbing a cup as you perch your phone between your shoulder and cheek, filling you cup with tap water.

“Y/N! Where are you?” Yua’s voice is too loud for the linger ache in your head, you jerk the phone from your ear to turn the volume down.

You chug down the ice-cold water that does nothing to remove the dryness from your mouth or throat, it’s as if it’s been coated in a thick layer of cotton. “Apartment.”

She’s silent for a minute, you can hear her mumbling to someone next to her. There’s a muffled sound coming from her end before a new voice comes through the line, fresh tears prick your eyes when you recognize it’s Naoki.

“We’re coming over, don’t leave.”

* * Three years ago

Your high school days had been filled with volleyball matches, practices, tournaments and while you have no ill feelings towards the sport or the boy who brought it into your life, you just hoped university would broaden your horizons.

Yet here you stood at a MSBY Fan Greet, your younger brother all but vibrating with excitement as he waited to get his overprice photograph signed by his favorite team. You previously made plans to hang-out with Yua over the spring break, but since your parents both couldn’t take him, your brother guilted you with the “but I miss hanging out with you” card and puppy dog eyes.

“For you.” His accent coats his words, passing you small folded piece of paper before your brother makes his way down the line to the next player for an autograph, tugging at your pants for you to follow his lead.

** “Wanna get something from the vending machine before the next class?” Yua asks. Kaneko Yua became your friend when you both started university last year, the two of you quickly became the best of friends even though the only interests you share is in your shared Art History major.

“I’m done for the day.” You tilt your head, smiling right before you stick your tongue out at her.

She throws her head back, groaning as you continue to walk, “how’d you get such a good schedule.”

“Told you to take those early morning classes.” You wink before running into her as she suddenly stops. “Yua-ch—”

Golden yellow hair and a cocky smile catch your attention as he leans against a flash sports car in the library parking lot. Yua looks at you, her eyes wide, you had mentioned that you got his number a few weeks ago to her, but that nothing but short conversation came from the exchange which only lasted a few days.

“Y/N!” He calls out to you, obnoxiously waving one arm up in the air to catch your attention, it does, along with the rest of the student body that’s outside.

He starts walking over to you and Yua, pulling off his sunglasses you see that dark chocolate eyes that captured your (e/c) ones just weeks ago. Your heart is thumping against your chest as he quickly closes that gap that has been between you, a short arm’s distance away from him. You can smell his cologne, it’s a strong smell, something similar to burnt cinnamon being carried by the wind the circles around you.

Yua looks at you for answers but you couldn’t give her any if you even tried. You find yourself swallowed whole by his dark eyes, feeling like you’re about to sink. “M-Miya-san?”

“Atsumu.” He smirks, “sorry for just showing up. I was in the neighborhood and thought we could go get something to eat. You aren’t busy, are you?”

“No, she’s not.” Yua nudges your arm, bringing you back to reality, “she’s actually all finished for the day.”

“What do you say? Will you come with me?” He reaches out his hand and you almost immediately take it and maybe you should’ve been more cautious, after all this wasn’t like it was in high school.

** The first few months with Atsumu are blissful, perfect and you start to wonder if this is what you were missing back with Ushijima. Every day with Atsumu is an adventure, you never know what to expect which is a sharp contrast to that same day everyday feeling you had back in high school. He keeps you on your toes and you love it, you eat it up, spending all your free time with him and it shows when you get back a test with a failing mark.

“Budding romances aren’t the most important thing in life, Y/N.” Your professor speaks low when he places the paper on the desk, he doesn’t have to tell you how he feels about it, disappointment drips from his words.

Atsumu didn’t offer much help on the subject either, simply shrugging at it and telling you that there’s always the next test. “Let’s go out.” “I really should study, ‘Tsumu.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, he’s sitting on the couch behind you.

He says your name, dragging out each syllable, “it’s the last night I can. I have an away game that I leave for on Friday.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” “Must have forgot.” He looks down at his phone, “coming or not?”

You know that you shouldn’t have gone, that studying is more important, but him leaving meant that you’d be apart for the first time and he had that lopsided pout on his face, so you agree. Grabbing your jacket and following him out the door as he drapes an arm around you, “I can always count on you.”

* * Two years and four months ago

“I’m gonna kill him!” Yua shouts as she walks into your dorm room. She practically ran from her part-time job in the library to your dorm when you called her, unable to talk from crying so loudly. While she took the elevator up to your room, she managed to see the text explaining the cause of your distress and is fuming.

“You’ll…go…to jail.” You finally manage to spit out, the sobs and hiccups breaking up your words as you wipe your running nose on your sweatshirt sleeve. Usually Yua would scold you, telling you just how disgusting that it, but tonight she just sits next to you, letting you lean on her shoulder.

She gently rubs your arm as she wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to her side, “maybe I’ll key that fancy car of his.”

“I think it’s his brother’s.”

“Deflate his balls!”

“Yua!”

“Volleyballs, get your head out of the gutter.” She smiles when you let out a small laugh. She leans her head down on yours and you are thankful that you’re close enough for the silence to be comfortable, for certain things to be left unsaid.

* * Two years and two months ago

The next few weeks seem to drag by, each day seemingly longer than the last. Yua has all but moved into your dorm, refusing to leave your side for more than the duration of classes. With her there, you realize even more that your phone hasn’t gone off, there’s no surge of messages coming through from a certain setter. Things take a bit of a turn when you hear a nearby conversation, two girls gushing about some famous model getting into a relationship to a volleyball player.

But it’s that said volleyball player’s name that anchors your feet to the ground, that name that echoes in your ears while your lungs struggle to take in the air you want to force into them.

Miya Atsumu

Yua essentially banned the use of his name or anything related to him into your life and for better or worse you’ve both manage to uphold it, especially seeing how with his newest brand deal, his face is everywhere just like Michael Jordan’s was in the U.S. during the 90’s. Somehow, you manage to avoid it, until now when your body seems to act on its own and you’re sudden reading several headlines confirming the match.

* * Two years ago

“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?” Yua looks at you, worry etched on her expression, “I don’t have to go to this guest speaking event.”

“Yua, you’ve been talking about this for weeks, you’re going.”

“Promise to call if you need me to come back? I’m only going to Tokyo, so I can get back within three hours.”

“Yes, yes, I promise.” You make a “shoo” gesture with your hand, walking towards her as she picks up her back to leave. You pull her into a quick hug, reassuring her that everything will be fine for one weekend.

** You let out a dramatic sigh, towel drying your hair as you walk out of the bathroom and towards your bed.

8PM on a Friday and I’m getting ready for bed, lame.

You’re slipping on a pair of fuzzy socks when the music you’ve been playing gets interrupted by a phone call. Within much thought, assuming it’s Yua, you answer, only to stop in your tracks when a familiar and husky voice calls your name.

“Y/N!” Each syllable of your name is drawn out with a slight lag, a telltale sign that he’s intoxicated.

If Yua was there, she would tell you to just hang up and block the number, that you had been doing better lately and should just let someone else deal with it, but Yua isn’t there and you feel that it must mean something if you had been the one he called. Drunken words are sober thoughts, right?

His drunken voice and repeated plea of your name is enough to melt you, enough to make you throw all rational thought out the window, quickly throwing on a hoodie, rushing to the address he barely slurred out.

Fortunately, the restaurant he is at isn’t too far from your dorm, however it is embarrassing when you walk in and could hear him across the room, shouting for you.

“Atsumu.”

He quickly turns to you, that sloppy grin of his piercing you in the heart as he stumbles over to throw his arms around you. The scent of alcohol hits you before he does, leaving you to wonder just how much he’s had as you stagger backwards a bit before steadying the both of you. You just barely get the both of you to a cab, his constant swaying challenging you until you’re able to shove him in the vehicle, hesitating when asked where they were taking you. You didn’t know where he was staying these days, you still weren’t sure what he was doing in Kyoko, so you settle for the only address you know to go.

** “Are you serious?” Yua shouts, all but pulling out her hair.

Three weeks. That’s how long Atsumu had been back in your life and how long your best friend had been in the dark about it. You wanted to tell her about the night Atsumu called drunk, but felt it was best to do it in person since it was such a touchy subject, but when she got back, she was still so excited about the speaker and to tell you about it, you lost your nerve.

Then as the days continued to go by, you kept coming up with a reason not to tell her. What you weren’t expecting was her for to just show up out of the blue or for a fresh out of the shower Atsumu to answer the door. You felt confrontation coming and that was something you weren’t a huge fan of.

“I know it looks bad, but I can explain.”

Yua shakes her head, her lips in a straight line, foot tapping on the tile flooring. “This is why you’ve been cutting classes and missing assignments.”

“I don’t see how this is your business at all.” Atsumu glances over at Yua, an amused smirk on his lips, “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.”

Yua turns abruptly on her heel, storming out of the dorm room and when you grab her arm, there’s tears in her eyes when she turns to face you.

“He’s changed, Yua.” There’s such a hopeful look on your face, an expression that screams that you actually believe him.

She drags her arm across her eyes, wiping away the tears, “why can’t you see he’s not good for you!”

* * 1 year and 10 months ago

The shuffling of your peers is lost on you, motionlessly staying in your seat as all of those around you practically bolt out after the 55 minutes long public speaking class. Your eyes are trained on the board in front of you but the notebook on your desk is unopened, your pen still capped.

It takes a few moments for you to notice the weight of the hand on your shoulder and the back and forth motion it's pushing you in. Shaking your head, you snap out of whatever daze you’ve been in and look over to see Naoki with a concerned expression on his face.

“Do you need to see the nurse?”

You shake your head, “oh, no. I was just thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow at the quick smile you throw his way before he sighs, giving into your excuse, even after only knowing each other a few months, Naoki knew when to just let things go.

“Good morn—You aren’t Yua.” You stopped your greeting when you noticed the shuffling at the chair next to you wasn’t Yua but someone you’d never seen before.

“Oh no, sorry. I’m Higashi Naoki, I just transferred here.” He gave you a big bright smile, extending his hand out.

“Uh, oh, hello.” You felt embarrassment creep up the back of your neck as you awkwardly shook his hand. Luckily your phone vibrated, allowing you to focus your attention to something else other than the rather attractive brunette sitting next to you.

You read the words on the screen, somewhat understood the meaning of them but your mind kept going back to the warm orange brown eyes that looked at you with such kindness. They reminded you of the way you felt back in high school, the way that Ushijima made sure you always felt: safe.

To your surprise, Yua had already met Naoki, they shared the glass before this one and Yua was actually excited that you two had ended up meeting. After that, the three of you were fast friends, almost as if you had all been friends for years rather than just several weeks. But not everyone was excited for your new friendship and he had no problem being very vocal about it.

Atsumu wasn’t keen on the friendship when he randomly showed up to the campus one day, seeing the two of you sitting outside, laughing. You had to run after him, he took off without letting you even introduce Naoki, trying to tell him that he was just a friend, but Atsumu seemed to already have his mind made up on what was what.

A week later, after not hearing from Atsumu you got a message from him telling you that he needed to dedicate himself more to his team, his career and being in a relationship with you just wasn’t it.

“You can copy my notes during lunch, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Nao-chan!” You smile up at him while shoving your things into your backpack. He clears his throat, blush spreading across his cheeks as he turns away from you.

** Professor A: Missing Assignments

Professor B: Make-up Test Notice

Professor C: Mandatory Advisor Meeting

XMail: Unread Messages (12)

You feel a pit in your stomach, not wanting to read the emails, already knowing the disappointed messages they held. You hadn’t been your best self lately especially when it came to your studies and had several unfinished assignments and 0’s in the gradebook. It wasn’t like this was the first time you and Atsumu had been broken up but for some reason, each time felt worse than the previous time.

Leaning back, you let out a deep sigh as you glance around at the boxes that liter the room. After you and Atsumu broke up the most recent time, Yua managed to convince you to move into her off-campus apartment. At first you didn’t like the idea, not wanting to be a burden to her or cause anyone to think anything of her with you living with her, but she wouldn’t heard anything but yes. She told you that she had the space (her parents insisted on getting her a two bedroom even though it was just her) and it was easier for her to keep an eye on you.

There are still some things that are in boxes, mostly things from Atsumu that you didn’t want to toss out, but didn’t think should be on display either. Plus, with all the catching up you had to do, there wasn’t much time for anything else especially with the schedule that Yua had made for you. The two of you shared most classes, so she had all the notes and study guides you needed and to be honest, it helped keep your mind off a certain MSBY setter.

BZZT!

Nao-chan: I’m heading up, let me in! (1:42PM)

A smile spreads across your face, pushing yourself from the desk and quickly slipping out of your room and towards the door. By the time you open it, you see him walking up the hallway and he flashes you his signature smile when his eyes meet yours.

“Nao-chan!” You crash into him, wrapping him into a hug, one that he returns effortlessly.

“What have I done to get such a warm welcome?”

“I can’t just miss you?” You tilt your head when you look up at him, stepping away from him to look him in the eye. You hold back a laugh when you see his face turn red, turning his face away from you before mumbling something along the lines of “yeah, no, that’s fine.”

You bring back two cups of juice (Yua refused to let soda into the apartment) and notice that Naoki seems to be nervous, wringing his hands together and looking down at the ground which is different that he usually acts.

“Nao-chan, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, uhm, well I wanted to ask you something.” He makes eye contact with you and you nod for him to continue, “I bought these and thought we could go together.”

He pulls something out of the inside pocket of his jacket, passing it to you and for a second your blood runs cold, eyes scanning over the item picking up the word ‘volleyball’. By the warmth suddenly on your arm, you could tell that Naoki sensed your discomfort.

“Forget it, it was a dumb idea.”

“No! It’s not, it’s just…uhm…”

“I just thought that it might be a good way to get out of the apartment and it’s an Adlers’ game so maybe you’d seen your friend.”

You scrunch your brows together before looking back at the tickets. It was for a game between the Schweiden Adlers and Tachibana Red Falcons, a smile spread across your face, a mix of excitement to see Ushijima play again (his play style is still one of your favorites) but also that Naoki remembered these little facts about you.

“I’d love to go. I’ll call Ushijima and tell him we’ll be there!” You give him a quick hug, rushing to your room to get your phone, leaving a smiling Naoki behind.

** Naoki smiles watching you all but vibrate as you wait in line to go into the gym. The game had been all you talked about for the last two weeks, eager to get out of the apartment for anything other than classes or your on-campus job. You spent most of your free time telling Naoki just how amazing Ushijima is on the court and how he had already asked to meet Naoki, who seemed a bit nervous when you mentioned that.

“I didn’t know you liked watching volleyball, Nao-chan. Did you play in school?”

“Oh, uh no. The person I’m interested in likes it, so I thought I’d learn more about it.” He hands over the tickets, the two of you being ushered into to the building. His shoulder brushes yours due to the large amount of people all in the crowed hallway.

“I didn’t know you had your eye on someone! I’ll teach you all I know about volleyball so you can impress them!” You beam a huge smile at Naoki before your attention is pulled to the other side of the hallway. “Nao-chan! Let’s get t-shirts!”

He follows you as you drag him towards a table set up with shirts to memorialize the game. You intended to get matching ones, but due to size differences, you had a settle with a white shirt for you and a black on for Naoki. After you reluctantly let him pay, the two of you make your way to the gym, Ushijima had seats held for the two of you.

Once the whistle blew, you were back in your element, a huge smile on your face watching Ushijima command the court just like he had been for as long as you could remember. For the first time in years, you feel light and free, happier than you can remember being. Ushijima catches your eye at some point during the second set and you eagerly wave to him, giving him that same toothy grin you did as kids.

** “Toshi!” You barely give him time to turn around, running straight into him as you throw your arms around him, both Toshi and Naoki chuckle at the fact you managed to knock Toshi off balance for a few seconds.

“Y/N.” He pulls you into his broad chest and if you hadn’t known him for years, you wouldn’t believe that this tall and muscular man was the same boy who ran around with a watering can that was almost as big as him. “I’m glad you came today, it’s been a while.”

“Since high school.” You bite your lower lip and notice that Toshi squeezes your arm, a gesture he’d do to comfort you. He gives you a reassuring wink, letting you know that there’s no hard feelings about the past before he looks over at Naoki, “are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

“Oh no! No, no, no.” You stumble over your words, frantically waving your hands around.

“I’m Higashi Naoki, nice to meet you.”

“Nao-chan is just a friend.”

Linking your arm with his, you look back at him and see his smile drop for a split second before it reappears while shaking hands with Ushijima but that quickly leaves your mind when you see a familiar poof of orange hair. But before you can take the time to figure out who he is, you hear an accent that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget.

“Just friends, huh?”

Your eyes widen in horror, immediately turning and seeing the familiar sight of golden yellow hair walking away from you.

“Y/N—” Naoki reaches out to grab your arm, but you’ve already started running after Atsumu, calling out his name as you rushed to catch up to him, weaving through the crowded hallways.

“Tsumu!” You finally grab ahold of his wrist, trying to pull him back but instead he just yanks you forward as he tries to get his arm away from you.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone is icy with an expression that matches, “why are you even here?”

“I came to see Tos—Ushijima.”

“I mean why are you here talking to me, you are clearly on a date with what’s his face.”

“Nao-chan? We’re just friends, it was just to get out of the apartment and have fun.” Your voice is trembling, bottom lip quivering listening to the harsh tone of his voice.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you were all over him, just stop lying.”

“No! I wasn’t.” The tears you’ve been trying to hold back now slip down your cheeks, you couldn’t figure out why he was acting like this especially when you were broken up.

“I never thought you’d end up like all those other girls, just another pig wanting to date me for status.”

Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears that you don’t hear whatever else he mumbled before turning and walking away, your arm weakly reaches out to him before your knees hit the vinyl flooring. After several moments pass, you feel someone pull you up and wrap their arms around you, the familiar scent of men’s body wash washes over you.

“Thank you.” You choke out, the comforting embrace causing more tears to fall.

“Best friends forever, right?”

* * 1 year and 3 months ago

“Are people looking at me?”

“Huh?” Yua raises an eyebrow as she looks over at you.

“There’s a psychology term for that feeling, it’s called spotlight effect.” Naoki says, trying to reassure you that no one’s looking.

“No, I think she’s right.” Yua stretches an arm out in front of him, causing him to stop walking before you drop your backpack on the ground, shocked.

Atsumu is standing on campus, wearing a suit, carrying a stupidly large bouquet of flowers, going around asking where you are, all but shouting your name to the sky. Part of you wants to disappear, of course he’d choose to stand in the middle of campus, catching everyone’s attention.

You trip slightly over your bag, marching towards him, barely hearing Naoki calling after you before Atsumu’s attention snaps to you, his eyes locking in on yours.

“Y/N!” Gleefully, he scurries towards you, handing the bouquet to you, it’s heavier than you thought it’d be.

“Atsumu, what are you doing?”

“I want, no, I need to talk to you.” He drops down to his knees and you can hear the increase of hushed tones, you glance back to see a very confused Yua and Naoki wears a horrified expression. “I’d like to try again, please.”

“Atsumu…”

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“Okay, okay, just…please get up. People are staring.” You try to hide your face behind the flowers, the pure embarrassment causing your face to burn.

He pushes himself off the ground, grabbing your hand as he pulls you towards the faculty parking lot. It doesn’t feel like you are in your own body, your legs moving to keep up with him before he stops.

Once again, he drops down to his knees, grabbing your hands with his, pleading with you to listen to him, to believe that he really means it when he tells you that he’s changed, asking you for just one more shot. For most of his speech, you look at the top of his head, seeing that the golden yellow is being overtaken by his natural dark brown roots, your fingers twitch, wanting to run through his hair. It’s when you finally lock eyes with him that you see the tears that line them, a single one slipping down his cheek from the corner of his right eye.

“I shouldn’t have come.” He wipes his eyes, sniffling a bit. He squeezes your hands before he stands up, letting you go. “I’m sorry for doing this you.”

There’s no way to explain it, but he seems different and suddenly you want to see this new him, to be the one that gets to be part of this new and mature Atsumu. Throwing all your sense out the window, pushing the rational and logical voices of Yua and Naoki to the back of your head, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back and you can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Don’t go.”

* * 9 months ago

“Y/N! Door!”

Still in the process of buttoning your shirt, you poke your head out of your room, “I’m almost done, can you get it, please?”

Yua and Naoki share a look, when you had told them you decided to get back with Atsumu they weren’t shy about telling you how they were against it, that as your friend they hated seeing you so hurt, but they also told you that they weren’t just going to leave you either. It had been an unspoken rule that when it came to all things Atsumu (including opening the door) that they didn’t want to be part of it, for you to keep that part of your life away, unless he did something to hurt you.

Naoki reluctantly gets up, you can tell by the way he sluggishly walks his way towards the door. Dipping back into your room, you finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and sweater before pulling the door shut behind you.

You hear the door slam shut and look to see an irritated Naoki, “where’s Tsumu?” Naoki goes to speak, but you don’t give him a chance, instead just rush out of the apartment.

“Tsumu! Tsumu!” You shout out to him, barely catching his attention as he presses the button for the elevator. “Where are you going?”

He clenches his fist; the gesture catches your eye. “Home. I didn’t sign up to be humiliated tonight.” He looks at you, a type of rage in his eyes that you’ve never seen before and you aren’t sure what could’ve happened to make him so upset. Since he showed up on campus, begging for another chance eh always made sure to be open about his feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have to tell me, Tsumu.”

“I just don’t like him being in your apartment.”

The elevator dings, doors opening and just as he goes to step into it, you pull back on his arm, pleading with him to stay, tears filling your eyes. He jerks his arm from your grip, not that you were holding on that tightly, and he steps into the elevator.

You aren’t sure why your relationship is like this, why it has so many ups and downs, why it hurts this much. You aren’t sure why being with Atsumu is so hard, why it feels like all you see is his back while he walks away from you, leaving you broken each time. In high school, you hated the almost boring way each day with Ushijima felt, but in this moment, you’d give anything for that because at least back then you felt safe and knew where you stood.

* * 5 months ago

For the last four months, Atsumu spoiled you rotten with daily gifts and elaborate dates. You received a flower a day, it was the flower of your birth month, boxes of your favorite candies, along with cards that had some romantic quote in them.

For dates, he takes you to the best restaurants, buys out move theatres, flies you to various parts of Japan to not only watch his games, but to show you around. When you’re together, he actually listens to you, takes his time to finally get to ask you about your upbringing, family, and where you see yourself in five years. He shows you how he’s remembered things you don’t like and even the things that you do and for the first time in the two plus years you’ve known him, it feels like things are starting to even out, that all the turmoil might just be over.

** “Do you like it?” His accent drips from his words, you’ve noticed the accent gets thicker when he’s either nervous or excited.

You glance around the empty apartment, a bit confused as why you’re standing in the middle of it. You thought that Yua apartment was big, considering it had two bedrooms, but this seems to be even bigger than hers. The large windows allow an abundance of natural light and you really do like that.

“It’s a really nice apartment.” You smile as he walks over to you, pulling you into his toned chest, his chin on your forehead.

“I’m glad, it’s yours.”

You pull back, shock written all over your expression, too many thoughts racing through your mind for you to form a sentence. Atsumu did a lot of crazy things, did a lot of spur of the moment things, but this, this really did top them all. “What?”

He shrugs, digging in his pocket before placing a key in your hand, he looks a bit scared to you. “It’s just…my lease was up and I know it’s a bit further from campus than Yua’s, but I was thinking you’d like to live here…with me.”

Without any hesitation, you throw your arms around Atsumu, repeatedly saying “yes” as you awkwardly bounced up and down. When you pull back, he cups your face in his hands, bringing you closer for a kiss.

You can’t stop smiling, eagerly nodding your head as Atsumu talks about furniture and getting your things boxed to be moved, not really hearing anything because all you can think of is that things are finally going to work out between the two of you and that’s why your heart is thumping against your chest.

* * 3 months ago

Two months.

8 weeks.

60.8 days.

That’s how long your relationship of bliss lasted, how long you saw the caring and loving version of Atsumu, the side of him that stole your heart even after months and years of back and forth, ups and down, on and off.

You hate it because things were going so well, everything was perfect, even better than how great things had been with Ushijima back in high school. What you hate even more is the fact that while you had been packing up your things, you said some not so nice things to Yua, telling her that she was wrong about him, that this time things were going to work out. You had all but bragged and even hit below the belt with saying she was just jealous that she didn’t have someone that loved her the way Atsumu loves you.

Nine times out of ten you’re alone in this apartment, your music on the highest volume isn’t loud enough to fill the silence that creeps through the rooms and wraps around you and when the silence gets to you, you’re forced to think about things you’d rather not. Like how right Yua had been, how Naoki was only looking out for you, how every time you got back together with Atsumu, it just seemed to hurt worse than the time before.

During that one time of ten that Atsumu is home, the two of you just fight, you fight about everything really; your classes, his games, your friends, his friends and now that you’re all but isolated from your friends, it just makes things worse. You’ve always hated comparing the two, Ushijima to Atsumu, knowing both relationships are/were different, but recently, you’ve wondered if repeating the same day over and over, if that almost suffocating comfort, you wonder if that would be easier to live with now when looked at next to the way your current relationship has been.

* * Atsumu flips his phone face down, muting it after it had begun to ring, turning his attention back to the movie the two of you were watching.

You scoff, pushing yourself off his side to lean against the other side of the sofa.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what? I was just getting more comfortable.”

“Cut the shit. You always do this.”

You roll your eyes, already irritated. “Did you want me to leave the room so you could call her back?”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” He pushes himself off the couch, shaking his head as he storms into the kitchen.

You reach across the couch, swiping his phone from the armrest, trying to get into it, but no surprise he’s once against changed the passcode. You’re fuming at this point, shoving yourself off the couch before you start to walk to your room. You were done, have been done with all of this.

His hand tightly wraps around your wrist and jerks you backwards towards him. He starts yelling, demanding that you give him back his phone and the anger in you takes over and you throw it across the room. You start to scream about how you’re done, you’re tired and don’t deserve to feel this miserable. He yells back telling you that he’s giving you things anyone would be thankful to have and you smack him with your free hand.

He freezes, dropping your wrist as he runs his fingers through his hair, the expression on his face is something you’ve never seen and without another word, he storms out of the apartment.

You didn’t see him for three weeks, if it hadn’t been for his teammates Hinata and Bokuto stopping by, you wouldn’t have known that he’s okay and has been staying with them. When he does come back, he has a long-winded apology and a large bouquet of flowers. He falls to his knees in the door way, telling you that he’s sorry, that he can’t believe his actions and that he swears that he’ll do better.

* * Present Day

When you open the door, Yua throws her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace and you feel yourself start to sob again. She holds you up as your knees get weak, letting the exhaustion take over you as you inhale her familiar perfume.

Naoki slightly pushes by the two of you, angrily making his way through the apartment, brows scrunched into a scowl. You watch as he flings open every door, stomping through each room before he walks back to you, rage radiating off of him. “Where the fuck is he?”

You’re startled, panicking you look up at Yua who wraps her arm around your neck and pulls you back into her, your face pressing just below the top of her shoulder.

“Obviously not here, so chill out.”

She ushers you over to the couch, Naoki handing you the throw blanket to wrap around yourself as you finally catch your breath. You lean your head on the back of the couch, it just adds pressure to your headache, but you’re having a hard time opening up to your friends.

“How’d you know something was wrong?” You slowly lift your head up, looking between the two of them, your face turning red when you hear that you called Naoki repeatedly around 2AM, leaving incoherent voicemails where they only picked up on the words: fight, Atsumu and leave.

“I really think you should move back in with me.” Yua speaks with caution, knowing how sensitive the topic is.

You just nod, defeatedly. You’re more upset about failing to maintain the relationship than you are that the relationship is over. Part of you wants to know why you put yourself through so much to prove you could stay with him, was it because you didn’t want your previous break-up to mean nothing? That if you could make this one work then you weren’t an awful person for ending things with Ushijima for an almost comical reason?

“Just pack what you have to have and we’ll replace whatever you don’t bring and need, okay?” Naoki gives you a small smile before Yua stands up telling you that she’ll grab your things from the bathroom and Naoki can get the things throughout the living room.

Roughly half an hour later, you have most of the things you brought, minus any gifts that Atsumu gave you, but you can’t seem to step through the threshold. Yua and Naoki are standing in the hallway waiting, but you’re afraid to make the step because all of a sudden it symbolizing a bigger commitment that you intended. Once you step out of the apartment, once you shut the door and drop the key in the box, you’re officially shutting the Miya Atsumu chapter of your life and that shakes you to the core.

“Y/N, you’re going to be okay. We’re right here. I’m right here.” Naoki reaches out his hand and you decide to take that leap, grabbing on to his hand like a lifeline. Your knees are wobbly as you place one foot into the hallway, straddling the threshold. “C’mon, just one more step. I got you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, frantically taking that last step before throwing your arms around Naoki, repeatedly saying “I did it!” He puts his hand on the back of your head, pressing you into him, telling you that he’s proud of you.

You take one last look into the apartment that for some reason now fills small, it feels different, like you no longer belong there and while you’re still terrified of letting go of the rope that ties you and Atsumu together, there’s something exhilarating about starting over. Your eyes are closed as you pull the door shut and when you turn and open them, you see proud smiles on both Yua and Naoki’s faces and you couldn’t help but be excited for this next chapter.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Interested in the rest of the series? –> Series Masterlist

Interested in other works? –> Masterlist

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hq angst #my three loves #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #kaitycole MTL #atsumu angst #tw toxic relationship #tw angst #tw toxic behavior #tw physical violence #tw slapping #tw adult language

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grays-gibberish · 3 years ago

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sakuatsu drabble fic ft. genderfluid atsumu

(i used he/she/they pronouns interchangeably for atsumu in this and just he/him for kiyoomi)

1k words - no beta - reblogs appreciated

@chaotic-trash-can ik u wanted to read this so here :) hope u like it bestie

staring at the wall of products kiyoomi racks his brain to remember what atsumu said they needed. all the colors are starting to blur together due to him staring at them intensely for the past few minutes. letting out a sigh he grabs his phone from his back pocket and pulls up atsumu’s contact. typing out a quick ‘what one did u want again?’ and pressing send, kiyoomi goes back to looking at the wall, trying to see if he can remember the makeup his partner wants.

tapping his phone against his mask, kiyoomi glances sidelong at the cashier who was looking at him curiously, probably wondering why this man had been standing in the same place for the last ten minutes. he turns away hoping she won’t recognize him just as his phone buzzes with a notification.

‘atsumu🧡: the light purple one of the brand i have at home’

sending back an thumbs up before looking up at the self again, kiyoomi finds the eyeshadow this time.

walking up to the register he sees a bottle of a filtered water brand he likes, so he grabs it. then he sees a candy bar astumu likes, and hoping to see her smile, he grabs that too.

setting his items on the counter he glaces at the magazines to see if the tabloids have started harassing someone he knows again.

the face of his partner smiles at him from the magazine closest to him. kiyoomi’s heart skips a beat before he reads the headline and let’s out sigh of relief.

‘STAR VOLLEYBALL PLAYER ATSUMU MIYA COMES OUT AS GENDERFLUID IN INSTAGRAM MAKEUP TUTORIAL; fans outpouring support almost matching gigantic support from brother osamu miya and volleyball teammates!’

he’s about to turn away before his own name pops out at him from the bottom corner of the page.

‘KIYOOMI SAKUSA SPOTTED LEAVING LUNCH MEETUP WITH THE MIYA SIBLINGS; possible romantic meetup with partner and in-law? but which miya is he dating?’

grumbling about how the new editor of volleyball now is too much of a gossip, koyomi turns back to the cashier to hear her talking to him.

“-getting some makeup for your girlfriend? that’s really sweet...”

she trails off and kiyoomi can see the moment the girl recognizes him. her eyes flick to the magazine then back to him, she makes an ‘o’ with her mouth, her hands that were previously scanning his items stop moving, and then her eyes go wide and face flushes.

“i’m so sorry, oh my gosh. please forgive my rudeness.” she bows low, practically laying across the counter between them.

kiyoomi doesn’t know how to respond to her so he gives a curt nod with a small hum and hopes she understands.

she finishes checking out his things with shaking hands and fumbles with the bag, before shoving it at him. she mutters another apology and a ‘thank you for you patronage, please come again’ and then kiyoomi is out the door.

he walks to his car and quickly looks around to make sure no one has seen him before getting in. once he’s in the car he practically melts into the seat with a sigh. reaching for the hand sanitizer he drops the bag into the seat next to him.

once his hands are clean to his satisfaction, kiyoomi is starting the car and pealing out of the parking lot, making his way to atsumu’s apartment.

~ ~ ~

“the media is saying what about you?” atsumu asks as he leans forward, looking at kiyoomi through the mirror she was previously using to apply the purple eyeshadow.

“that because i went to lunch with you and osamu i’m apparently married to one of you and the other is my in-law. the media just needs to decide who.” kiyoomi says as he watches atsumu go back to his makeup.

“well they’re not wrong that your with one of us, i wonder which one they think it is though?” they say with a laugh.

“i can see what the internet thinks right now,” he says before pulling his phone from his pocket.

kiyoomi types away as atsumu puts the final touches to her makeup. atsumu sees kiyoomi’s eyebrows shoot up and turns around in their chair to see what’s the matter. he opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong but before she can say anything kiyoomi shoves his phone into atsumu’s face with an odd expression.

an artist’s rendition of her brother and her boyfriend making out appears before his eyes. the title of the article hangs above the picture in bold; ‘10 REASONS KIYOOMI SAKUSA IS DATING OSAMU MIYA AND 2 REASONS HE’S DATING ATSUMU MIYA; we asked our fans who they think it is and the answer is at the end of the article!’

atsumu snatches the phone and furiously scrolls to the end to find the fan poll on who they think kiyoomi is dating. the numbers for their brother heavily outweigh the numbers for themself. atsumu looks back up to kiyoomi to see his reaction, and with a start realizes the weird expression on his face was actually kiyoomi trying to hold back a laugh.

“oh you little shit, you think this is funny!”

“...a bit,”

“that’s it, i can’t stand the idea of people thinking you do things- things like this-“ atsumu gestured to the drawing. “with my brother!”

kiyoomi let out a snort, then looked away hurriedly when atsumu glared at him.

“i seem to remember a certain someone saying he was- and i quote- “moved and inspired” by my coming out before bed the other night. well how about you make your own coming out video- preferably with who you’re dating too. hmm, how does that sound?” atsumu asked, a drop of venom finding its way into his voice. atsumu moves to sit at the bench in front of the light they have set up for filming and photography.

“i remember saying no such thing.” kiyoomi says, but sits down on the bench next to his partner, with a smile nonetheless.

#toad talks #toad writes #sakuatsu #haikyuu!!

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sorcerersofnyc · 3 years ago

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The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 8/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Part Eight: Zemo has to say goodbye.

Suicidal ideation, Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics. I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact).

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

He doesn’t know how to tell you goodbye. He doesn’t want to tell you goodbye. So lingers at the doorframe of his bedroom with a heavy heart and troubled eyes.

Your spot on the bed is empty, the blankets still unmade as steam from the shower hovers thinly in the air.

The sound of running water stops just before he passes the archway that leads into the master bath. The glass door opens and shuts on the other side. He hears you shuffle around and, after a moment, sees you peek around the wall.

You gasp.

Drops of water slide down your shoulders, vanishing beneath the fluffy towel wrapped around your breasts.

"Helmut!" You retreat behind the wall quickly. “I thought you were still downstairs!”

“My apologies,” He smirks. “I had no intention of intruding.” Helmut turns around for the sake of your modesty.

You hesitate for just a moment before approaching him, your footsteps growing closer, more confident as you near him from behind.

“You should have woke me,” you scold, entering his periphery. He twists his neck just enough to watch you bend over and take something from the drawer.

“I felt it would be wise to let you sleep.”

He watches you disappear behind the wall once more, curious to see what it was you took from his drawer. Was it an article of clothing? Did he have anything that suited you? He ponders every possibility.

So when you finally return, Helmut drinks in the sight of you, checking you out from head to toe.

“Stop staring at me like that.” There’s a slight waver in your voice as you look at him, as you take notice of the wicked smile on his face.

“My apologies again, Драга,” he places special emphasizes the word, “I was merely enjoying the view.” Your clothing is your own, except for the socks.

“We shouldn’t linger,” Helmut imagines you fighting back a blush as you ignore his words. “The last thing I want is those two running around my house. What if they find all Anežka’s guns?” You move to step around him, to walk out into the hall, but Helmut takes your hand into his own and pulls you into his arms.

“Wait,” he instructs you, his voice leveled and controlled. You look up at him, confused—perhaps a little intrigued—by the sudden force of his actions. You brace your hands against his chest.

“Yes?” You still, but gaze shifts from his eyes to his mouth, down his jaw, and back up again.

Cрањеg, he thinks, because it would be so easy to kiss you, so easy to do anything with you as Sam and James wait downstairs. (They could take notes if they heard them.)

He pulls you in a little closer, lessening the space between your chests. It would have been so easy—but Helmut won’t start something he can’t finish. He has to leave and he could never leave you wanting him, not when he knows he’ll never see you again.

“There’s something I must tell you first,” he insists, breaking your intimate gaze.

“What is it?” Your voice is a breathless whisper, so sweet he nearly falters.

“I’m sorry but I must leave you again.”

“Oh.” The simple phrase hung in the air.

“I'm truly sorry, I believed—”

“No, it’s—I mean, we both knew we wouldn’t have much time together…” The world grew quiet around him, as though all the birds and the sun in the sky shared in his agony. “When will you leave?”

“We have but a few hours left together.”

“Where are you going?”

“Riga.” He brings a hand to the curve of your cheek.

“We have a place there, right?” You take a step backward, releasing yourself from his hold, and brush past him quickly. “I’ll call someone to have it ready for you.”

He wants to call you back to him, hold you in his arms, memorize your every curve and feature—but instead, he watches you go.

***

Before enacting his ‘diabolical scheme,’ as the media so kindly put it, he arranged for Oeznik to send regular updates about you.

The first broke his heart completely.

When Oeznik tried to deliver the paperwork he had for you, you sent him back with a very colorful message detailing exactly what Helmut could do with his money. You didn’t want it. In fact, you found the idea to be insulting.

“If he wanted me to be his partner, he should have stayed instead of treating our relationship like some sort of business transaction!”

Unwilling to stay in the Italian estate for any longer than strictly necessary, you called a taxi in the middle of the night and made the arduous journey to the nearest city. Eventually, you arrived in Venice where you stayed an entire week.

You booked travel west and spent another few days in Milan.

Oeznik had an easy time monitoring you, and Helmut suspected he enjoyed the chance to visit a few quiet cities with little urgency. But it seemed two weeks was where his patience ran thin.

After another few days of meandering, Oeznik, who you had been more than a little surprised to see, managed to sit you down and convince you to overlook the paperwork.

Helmut wasn’t sure what he could have said to make you agree—likely something to do with taking the money, if only out of spite or something more sentimental, invoking your fondness for Carl and Heike—but you agreed.

When you finally returned home and Oeznik reported you intended to remain there, Helmut hired Anežka, Oeznik’s great-niece, to keep you company. She was a sweet-tempered young woman who once shot a bullet between the eyes of a rampaging boar somewhere east of Siberia—allegedly.

Nevertheless, he trusted her to watch over you and focused fully on his mission.

News of the Avengers causing havoc in Lagos broke out and you weren’t there to discuss the headline or the harsher implications of their actions. (‘Think about the demographics of the area,’ he imagined you would say. ‘Of course they think they can just waltz in and do what they want. It’s like Johannesburg all over again.’)

He found Vasily Karpov in a sleepy suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, and traveled there to find him. You weren't there to greet him upon his return.

He booked a room in Vienna. You weren't there to eat breakfast beside him.

He enacted his scheme. You weren't there to intervene.

When it was over and he was caught, the joint terrorism task force transferred Helmut to a high-security prison in Berlin, where he toiled in boredom and misery.

He deserved it, of course, but the hell of sitting with his memories and reflecting on his regrets was unbelievably tiring.

He’d been in prison for nearly a week before he received any communication from the world outside.

It was a money transfer notice.

Eigengeld, the notice said, showing that the money was transferred to a private funds account.

He received the same notification two weeks later.

Helmut used his money to purchase books, deciding to brush up on his Russian by reading classic poetry. He then obtained a small radio and other odds and ends meant to make his cell more accommodating.

Every two weeks he received the same notice, nothing more and nothing less.

Every month he received a letter from Oeznik, though they functioned more as simple reports about your welling, the status of his assets, observations on the world, and such.

Then, after about a month and a half of imprisonment, he received a parcel in the mail; a thick book sent directly from a local seller about Anger and Grief.

He recognized the title; you had the same book, albeit an earlier edition, on your desk in your bedroom. It was easy for him to imagine you there, sitting on your bed, doing the work to unpack all your feelings—you wanted him to do the work too.

You hadn’t given up on him; you didn’t think he was too far gone.

He opened up to the table of contents.

He received a second parcel three weeks later.

This time you sent him a treatise on Contemporary Arts and a book about Rococo Architecture.

He understood the intent of the first one well enough; you wanted him to develop a greater appreciation for contemporary art. But the second? You were clearly just teasing him. He hated Rococo Architecture.

A third parcel came three weeks after that and it contained a book more aligned with his tastes, Fortuna ist ein reissender Fluß, Fortune is a River. He assumed it was an apology for the two before.

And so it went on; every few weeks he received something new—but then one day you sent him a letter:

‘Dear Helmut,’

Oeznik, Anežka, and I visited the Sokovian memorial together. I laid flowers for you, Carl, Heike, and Heinrich. I laid them right beside the flowers I brought for Dominik and my father-in-law...’

You told him that the land was set to be divided by neighboring countries, cannibalized before it was even clear of rubble. You mentioned donating money to charity, visiting his other estates at Oeznik’s behest, and working on art.

You drew a sketch of the memorial on the back of the letter but never mentioned what happened between you, only that you're well and wished for him the same.

He wrote you back, thanking you for laying flowers for his family, and didn’t expect to hear from you again.

So when the next parcel you sent was accompanied by another letter.

You asked about the books and his thoughts about them.

Your tone was perfectly cordial, perfectly polite, but there was clearly a sense of distance there. You told him of a book you read by a man named Garth Risk Hallberg. You complained it was about 400 pages too long but something about it stuck out to you, a quotes:

'And why love things you were destined to lose? Why let yourself feel things if the feelings were doomed to die?'

Helmut was far too smart to trick himself into believing your words weren’t meant to stir something within his heart, that they weren’t a clever admission of your true feelings. However, he was also too cautious to remark recklessly.

So in his reply, he mentioned a book as well, Il Principe, and he quoted Machiavelli's view of love:

‘...love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage.’

You shouldn't love him, he thought, not after he broke your heart to achieve his own ends. You disagreed.

"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom." You wrote, followed by a snippy, 'Shakespeare had a better view of love than Machiavelli.’

The quote was from Sonnet 116. (You sent him a book of sonnets shortly after that.)

The sonnet spoke of what love was, what it meant to love a partner for who they were, accepting their changes and their flaws, and welcoming all the obstacles of love.

Helmut wasn't presumptuous enough to believe you could ever come to love him so fully, but wasn't love at all a start?

Neither of you wrote 'I love you,' at least not directly. Had he said it, he knew something, that thing inside of him, that thing that always held him back from you, would finally break.

But little by little you opened up to him again, using your shared love of literature to express your true feelings.

Oeznik continued to send his reports as well—one every month—to check up and keep him informed.

Roughly two years after his sentencing, something changed. News reported some sort of invasion in New York City, then another similar incident over Wakandan Airspace. And then, suddenly, there was a panic in the prison. People turned to dust and vanish all over the world.

And he worried.

Mail delivery was in complete and utter disarray. It took about eight weeks to receive word from you. For eight weeks he was alone, trapped in a vicious cycle of fear and doubt, just like the days he spent digging for his family in the rubble of his father’s home.

He contemplated an escape, planned for every contingency, and wondered what he'd do if he found your house cold and empty. Could he handle that pain? Could he stand to lose whatever shred of hope he had left?

And what if you came looking for him? What if you came, and he wasn’t there?

He contemplated all of those things and as he did so, your letters came.

When the guard appeared before his cell, they handed him a bundle of them, each more desperate and hasty than the last.

You survived the decimation. You were alright. But Anežka and Oeznik were gone. You were so sorry, so scared.

Captain America made a speech on television that assured everyone that no one else would disappear, but you didn’t believe him. You didn’t even know if your letters would reach him; you didn’t know if he was gone too but you would keep writing until someone told you otherwise.

You attempted to call the prison; you visited the gate; you did everything in your power to see him and the moment you received news that he, too, had survived, you cried.

The emotions he felt were bittersweet.

You were alive and well; he hadn’t lost you—but Oeznik was gone.

He wasn't misguided, Helmut knew that it would come to happen eventually, but he never expected it to be so sudden, didn’t expect it to happen like this. The old man had plenty of years left in him—he should have lived to reach 100 at least.

But with him gone, he’d lost his most loyal companion and confidant. With him gone, you were truly all he had left in the world.

As his next of kin, you tried to make an appeal for him to attend a memorial, but apparently, the death of 'a butler,’ as the officials described, wasn't an adequate reason to allow for prison leave.

He was simply too dangerous a criminal.

You shared a little poem with him in one of your letters, something about being still and staying in place. You didn’t want him to escape his prison cell. With the world in such disarray, so many places descended into martial law. If anyone saw him, they’d likely shoot on sight. You didn’t want to risk that, and he wouldn’t make you worry.

You encouraged him to open up about his feelings, so in his grief, he turned to you.

Time passed.

All his time alone gave him the chance to work through his grief, come to peace with what happened to his family, and reconcile his feelings. The rage was still there. It hadn’t gone away, but it was less of a bullet and more of an ache.

He still worried for you, of course, but life moved on and you coped; You wanted to help, wanted to ease the devastation left in the decimation’s wake.

‘I feel like nothing I do is enough,’ You wrote. And you felt as though you were living through the fall of Sokovia all over again. He suggested you try a change of scenery, to go somewhere new to gain a better understanding of how the world was now shaped.

So you visited New York City. Your letters took more time to arrive when you were away, but you mentioned having met a young journalist there, a man with an interest in art. He had a friend who you claimed looked exactly like him.

'If you grew a beard,' you wrote, 'you'd be twins.' He highly doubted that.

Despite your insistence that he was simply a friendly acquaintance, Helmut assumed you developed a liking toward the man.

He tried not to let the idea bother him—you deserved to live a life of happiness, a life not shackled to him—but he loved you, and you loved him.

He may not have had a name for what you were to each other, but when you reported having returned home without incident (or new romantic prospects) he felt relieved.

Years went by.

Your bond grew stronger.

And then the world changed once again one day.

You were making tea in the kitchen when Anežka appeared right before your eyes.

'It was as though her body pieced itself back together.' You described. 'She doesn't remember what happened, neither does Oeznik. It's like time didn't pass for them at all.’

They called what happened ‘The Blip’ to describe the experience. Helmut thought it was a ridiculous name.

But the sudden reappearance of the people that vanished threw the world into chaos once again. There was so much chaos, in fact, that James Buchanan Barnes appeared before him a few much later.

(Apparently, he thought with some resentment, those affiliated with the Avengers could visit him but not his next-of-kin.)

Helmut’s last letter wasn't quite a letter at all.

He arranged for a parcel to be sent to you: waffles and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He then asked Oeznik to send you a message.

He was coming home to see you, to be with you at last.

***

When Oeznik calls to tell him that the car is ready, you’re standing in the kitchen engrossed in a lively conversation with Sam.

You decided it would be nice to send them off with snacks, which somehow lead to a deeper conversation about your love of Beignets, the connection between food and culture, and the ingredients needed for Crawfish Étouffée.

Helmut isn’t sure he likes how funny you think Sam is, but he ignores that part of himself as he stands beside you, tracing circles into the palm of your hand.

James stands behind Sam, looking as sullen as a cat in the rain, but Helmut made the conscious choice to ignore that as well.

“It seems our car has arrived,” he cuts in, gently squeezing your hand. James stands at full attention and Sam nods his head. They’re ready to return to the mission.

“Helmut,” you turn your attention to him fully, “Could you hang back a minute. I promise it won’t take long.” You look between Sam and James. “I just need to give him something.”

“Yeah,” Sam nods, gesturing James toward the door. “Thanks for everything and hey—if ever you’re in the neighborhood come down to the restaurant, we’ll set you up straight.”

You wave him off with a smile, agreeing to do just that as James gives you a polite nod of acknowledgment

“Thanks.”

“Adiós,” you call to them, waiting for the two to shut the door.

“I’m almost sad to see them leave…”

“Really?” He raised a brow.

“Almost,” you repeat, taking both his hands in yours. “But I’m glad I got to see you again, Helmut — even if it was just for a while.”

“As am I.” You stare at each other, allowing the moment to settle around you. There was so much left to say and so little time to say it.

"I...I have something for you. Not...not a present but something I want you to keep." You slide your hands away from his take a folded envelope from your pocket. The paper inside is worn, but the letter is addressed to him, dating back to the spring of 2016.

"It's the first letter I was going to send to you but...I couldn’t. But I want you to have it now—just don't read it until you're gone."

"Thank you," He says after a moment. "I'll treasure it." And he would. He’d keep your words close to his heart.

"I wanted you to know I understood what you thought you had to do...that I forgave you and…" Your voice waivers but you continue, desperately trying to hold yourself together. "I just wish we had more time."

"I know." Helmut wrapped you in his arms and you remained there, your face buried in his shoulder.

“I must go now,” he tells you. You don’t let him go. You won’t.

Helmut presses a kiss to the top of your head with a chuckle. “Come now драга, it’ll be alright.” He pulls you back by the shoulders, looks into your eyes. “You’ve been so wonderful to me. I can’t envision a better friend.” Helmut leans forward, presses his forehead against your own, and enjoys one last moment of tender affection. It was a moment where words felt insufficient, where nothing else needed to be said except for maybe, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You whisper, and your words fill his heart with a strange new light.

But then someone—probably James—knocks on the door three times. A muffled argument between his companions begins outside the door, and Helmut sighs.

It’ll be a long trip to Latvia.

“Take care of yourself,” you tell him, “and don’t make any more trouble.”

“Trouble?” He asks innocently enough, as though he would never dream of doing such a thing. You roll your eyes and follow him to the door.

For a moment he considers running. Of taking your hand and leading you out through the back door. He could run away with you—but then he would never achieve his mission. And he couldn’t allow Super Soldiers to exist.

So he steeled his resolve and reached toward the door.

“Wait!” You reach for his hand.

He didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be, but he needed to listen to what you had to say.

“What is it?”

You take a breath as if to prepare yourself for something. “... Can I... Can we... Can I kiss you?” His heart aches. Helmut struggles to find an answer. But perhaps he was simply overthinking it. Perhaps there was nothing left to say.

So he nods. You take a step closer.

You move as though you’ve thought of this before; you place your hands on his chest, tilt your face upward, and press your lips against his gently.

It was a chaste kiss, a quick one that evoked the feeling of finding shelter in the rain.

You pull away, no doubt prepared to say something, but Helmut takes hold of your waist and pulls your body against him. The love between you grows into a burning flame as he kisses you, again and again, to help quench it.

Your lips part, your tongues meet, you run your fingers through his hair, but it only makes him hotter, hungrier, burning for something more. “Thank you for taking care of me, Helmut.” Your breath is heavy, and it mingles with his own when you part from him.

“I want you to be happy, драга,” Helmut confesses, voice low, accent thicker. “I am sorry to have caused you distress-”

“Stop it.” You cup his face between your hands. “You gave me everything you could.”

He kisses you again, and it’s fervent and zealous, it’s desperate in the way all final things are.

Another knock sounds unkindly at the door.

There’s no more time to be together—but you share another kiss anyway.

“Goodbye, my love.” He whispers on your lips because he knows that this is the end, that he may never see you again.

“Goodbye.” You step back, releasing your hold at last.

You open the door and he steps outside.

“Gentleman,” Helmut greets the others nonchalantly, as though he weren’t moments away from delaying the mission in favor of sharing something even more personal with you.

The sun is high in the sky, but the weather is deceptively chilly.

“What were you doing in there?” James asks, his voice full of unfounded accusations.

“Come on, Buck.” Sam shakes his head. He lets out a loud, exasperated sigh and starts toward the car.

“What?” James follows Sam toward the car, annoyed he must defend himself from some implied accusation.

“I was merely bidding farewell to my dear companion, of course,” Helmut answers truthfully, sending a mischievous little wink your way.

"Cuídate!" You call after them. Take care.

Helmut takes a last look at the home you once shared, one last look at you as you watch him from the doorway.

He loves you, which is the reason he has to leave. He would put an end to Karli and her acolytes to make the world a safer place. No one, not the Avengers or these ‘Flag Smashers’ endanger the world once again. He would put a bullet to each of them himself if it meant keeping you safe.

#Zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #mcu zemo #zemo x reader #these chapters just keep getting longer and longer

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calpops · 4 years ago

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reassurance | c.h.

Your relationship with Calum is accidentally exposed to the public and you both have to deal with the hardships it entails. Based on the prompts “nothing is wrong with you”, “I’m not going anywhere”, “you’re the only one I wanna wake up next to” and “you make me feel safe".

1.7k words

dates with cal masterlist

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Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, the light burning in the otherwise dark room. You sit alone on the edge of the bed. Calum is still at the studio, another late night of finalizing keeping the comfort of him from you. Photos are surfacing online and it’s the first time you’ve been publicly spotted with Calum. How you’ve managed to keep your relationship to yourselves for so long is baffling but something you both cherished. Now that’s broken; the intimacy taken from you and splashed across headlines and social media. Your hands shake and your phone screen comes in and out of view with the motion and burning eyes. You take in a shallow breath and swipe out of social media that makes your mind spin and heart ache. You fumble to dial Calum’s number and wait with bated breath as the phone rings and rings and rings. You didn’t expect him to answer; completely used to his voicemail greeting on nights when the band takes precedence.

He doesn’t answer and familiar words flood you but you can’t fathom getting your own words out, instead you hang up and toss the phone on the bed. Willing the entire situation away from you with the action. The photos and words attached to them are clear in your mind as you crawl into bed with your clothes still on; too tired and uncaring to change into pajamas. You can picture the snapshots vividly, they were taken at a distance but capture you both in a moment you thought was private. Intimate. His hands cupping your smiling face and his lips pressed to your forehead. The words of fans and media outlets burn in dark red behind closed eyelids. They’re fleeting but come back in haunting whispers as you wait. Wait for them to go away, wait for Calum to come home, wait for assurance that everything is okay and those words aren’t true. They’re lies and rumors and misconceptions based on wild theories. You try to remember that as time ticks on and Calum still hasn’t come home. It’s later than his usual late and doubts begin to plague you, to settle in your brain with twisted words and venomous vengeance.

It’s compulsory when you reach for your phone again; you try to convince yourself it’s just to see if he’s texted yet but no notifications from him light up the screen and yet you unlock the phone anyway. You don’t know why. You know how heavy the words were the first time you were presented with them. With only minutes between you dive back into the words from faceless people that shouldn’t hurt but make your chest tight and eyes well up with tears anyway.

You’re curled into your side with a quivering lip and tear stained cheeks when Calum finally gets home with phone in hand and worries hitting him hard and fast. He saw your missed call as soon as they wrapped up the session; the lack of voicemail to accompany it was unusual and spiked anxiety and questions through him. He raced home with only thoughts of you as the rest of the world became faded. He could’ve called but the drive was short and seeing you was his first priority—the lack of your voice on his messages instilling that need tenfold. He finds you in bed, day clothes still on, phone in hand and silent sobs escaping you. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he’s moving to your side on instinct, replacing the phone with his hand as he pulls you up and to him. You’re shaking in his hold and he does his best to calm you and stop the tears. A million scenarios race through his mind and none of them are pleasant, most of them begin with loss and heartache and leave him breathless.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asks as gently as he can manage.

Calum’s in a half crouched position at the side of the bed, his arms wrapped around you as best as they can be. You sink into his embrace and take comfort in the familiarity of his hold; revel in his concern and use it to instill faith in the things you should already know and never forget. You don’t know if you can manage to say much, throat tight and burning and chest weighed down by revelations of the night. For a selfish moment you stay silent and press closer into him, holding onto the fragmented pieces of hope that everything is still okay. Calum didn’t want to go public with your relationship and you’d never batted an eye at that—also content to keep whats yours between the two of you with only friends and family knowing. Now that’s shattered. You never wanted to live under the scrutiny of media and fans and eyes always on you, seeing you, judging you. Now you’re shattering.

“There’s pictures,” you manage to choke out and pull away from him but guide him up to properly sit on the bed though his arms don’t want to leave you. He settles on the edge and pulls you back before you can even catch your breath. “Everyone knows. Everyone hates me.”

Calum goes still; you can’t even feel the rise and fall of his chest beating out breaths. He’s stoic and contemplative as he figures out your words and rejects their meaning. You peer up at him through hazy tears and find a frown creasing his features. Guilt eats at you—tries to tell you it’s your fault and he’s upset with you for the broken bit of privacy his life once had. You suck in a shaking breath and wipe at your face, determined to move away and find refuge and safety from the moment under the covers. But Calum shakes himself and doesn’t let you go, he’s soft and warm as he invites you back into his side and does his best to rid your face of the rest of the tears.

“Can I see the pictures?” He finally asks and you can hear the hitch in his breath as reality crashes through.

You slowly nod; the articles and tweets still litter your phone, all you have to do is unlock it and hand it over. Calum doesn’t let go of you as he accepts the device, his eyebrows furrow and brown eyes glint with recognition and then glimmer back to concern. He swipes through, rolling text passes in a blur and a sigh escapes him. You’re two seconds away from another sob but bite your lip and try to keep it in. He tosses the phone away and looks down at you, hands gentle as they come up to cup your face and lips warm and familiar as they place a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s about time the world gets to know how much I love you,” he says and leaves you shocked with disbelief.

You had no way to gauge what his response might be other than late night conversations detailing how much he values your shared privacy. That he appreciates you being okay with staying under the radar. One simple sentence blows all of that away, a kiss and a sigh accompanying it in a delicate form of reassurance. But hostile words from unknown people still settle in your heart and haunt your thoughts. Knowing Calum is okay with your relationship being public is only a slim margin of the battle. The rest comes in droves of hateful words and bold headlines.

“You don’t believe any of it, do you?” He asks abruptly, tone tight and clipped. You know he means the hate, the disparaging words that dance through social media so mindlessly, so heartlessly.

You force a shrug and wipe the rest of your tears away, eyes downcast at the notches in the wooden floor. You can hear his heartbeat, the steady rhythm grounding you and forcing you away from the spiraling whirlwind of negativity and doubt.

“Maybe some of it's true,” you whisper and feel the pull of Calum pulling you closer, holding you tighter, repositioning you to settle into his lap completely and find comfort in his actions.

“It’s not,” he says firmly and keeps his gaze steady on you. “No one else’s opinion matters. There’s nothing they can say to make me think there’s something wrong with us or you.”

He’s saying exactly what you need to hear, things you already know but need to be reminded. Taking your fears and doubts from other people’s words and pushing them away so effortlessly. Comments that pick you and your relationship apart don’t feel as heavy and honest when Calum’s there to lift them away and cast light on your truth. Calum’s always considered himself a man of few words but he always has the right ones in the right moments.

“They don’t know you like I do. They don’t get a say in our relationship. I’m not going anywhere; not without you. No one else’s opinions matter,” he repeats and kisses you again. “I hope you know that.”

You did and now you do again. You nod against his chest and decompress, body easing after hours of tension and uncertainty. You move with him as he leans you back against the pillows and toward the sliver of moonlight that peeks through slotted open curtains. It’s silent for a few minutes and in that time Calum sends out a tweet of confirmation and defense. You don’t know what it says and don’t care to look or ask; you trust him and his words. Know how safe and protected he makes you feel.

“Feel any better?” He asks as he turns his phone off and tosses it away too.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly and gnaw on your lip for just a second before asking, “you’ll be here in the morning?”

You have to ask, wanting to know if the band will take precedence again, if his side of the bed will be cold by the time you wake up because of an early morning session. But there’s another meaning that sinks into the question. Reassurance being sought out.

“Of course,” he answers just as softly, with two meanings capturing his voice. “Always wanna wake up with you, sweetheart.”

<< >>

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thatgirlwritingficsatnight · 4 years ago

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Odi et Amo I

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5582

A/N: Hi this is my first fanfic ever, and so there are few things I have to say before you hopefully enjoy reading it. 1. English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors. I’m sorry, perhaps in the future there will be someone to proofread my works. 2. I’m terribly sorry for my interpunction :( for some reason they don’t teach it here and so it may be terrible. I am reading about it more but it’s not easy for me as I haven’t practiced enough. I’m really sorry if it’s awkward. 3. This was supposed to be long oneshot, but I was told not all people enjoy long reads on tumblr like I do, so I decided to make a miniseries out of it. Let me know if you enjoyed it and if you want me to write some scenarios, or post more of my works (i have a lot of them in the depths of my drive lol). Love, thatgirlwritingficsatnight.

***

You sat in spacious sofa in your old apartment in Korea. A sigh leaving your lips as you looked through the headlines.

"The black sheep of Korean show biz comes back after four years in USA"

"Whose heart will she eat now? National heartbreaker came back to Korea"

"Go back to USA you wh*re! - internet went wild over L/N Y/N"

"L/N Y/N comes back in outrageous style"

Most of them were a summary or perhaps a reminder for k-netizens why they should hate you; it's because you dated who you wanted to and for how long you wanted to, it's because this one time in the talk show you told off male host when he kept asking about your private life and because the other time you told another one to stop giving you all the questions about clothes and make up while your male co-star got to answer some deep questions about character development and that's to name the few reasons that came instantly to your mind. Of course some articles had to focus on your airport fashion too. The conservative Korean society had a problem with your bra, or rather a lack of thereof under your designer t-shirt. You left out an irritated groan as you scrolled to the comments. They were vicious and vulgar, you don't know what else did you expect honestly. You tossed the phone and buried your face in your hands fighting the urge to tweet something about the nasty people and how they should keep their antediluvian opinions to themselves. You sighed again perhaps if you were in a different country you'd do that, but here with systematic misogyny, where women were supposed to always smile and nod their heads, here where they got paid 60% of men's pay... you'd most likely be crucified. Then again who if not you would come to your defense? You knew the answer — no one, that realization was enough to anger you even more. The blood was boiling inside you as you snatched your phone back and went into Twitter silently mouthing apologies to your manager who'd be blowing your phone in just a few minutes.

"Yes, I don't wear bras. No, it's not a topic for your article nor your problem. I also know it may shock some people but my dating life is not a topic for your entertainment either."

"It baffles me how Korean society thinks its country is in the group of one of the most civilized ones but still treats women as if we were stuck in 50s."

Your phone was already blowing with notifications, you could see some new articles already popping and soon after that it buzzed as your manager tried to reach you. You silenced your phone and left it on the coffee table while you moved to the kitchen. You got yourself a lamp of wine and watched always busy streets of Seoul from a window. It was already dark and it looked like rivers of light with cars and street lights constantly illuminating them. You were deep in your thoughts as you pondered if you made a good decision. You had a good life in California. You had your best friend there, a house with a pool and many good opportunities for roles you declined. In those four years you became an international star after your role as Marvel's White Fox — a gumiho superhero. You knew in a year or two Disney would ask you to come back to make more movies and most likely you would but you couldn't stay in the USA any longer. Somehow, even though it seemed illogical considering the warm welcome you've got, you still missed your home. You missed Korea the country that loved to hate you. You weren't exaggerating when you said they loved to hate you, for instance you always played villains in Korean films and dramas and the Korean audience loved it. They loved to hate your characters and so every time you tried to audition for a role that would be first or second lead you'd always be cast as the villain. The very first time you played a good character was when you portrayed the White Fox for Marvel, they chose you because you were half American (on your father's side) and because you used to play femme fatales and that was kinda the character. You accepted the role secretly hoping that it would change the way Korea has seen you. It didn't. They said you were too Westernised and that you weren't true Korean and had their own perfect casting with actresses that weren't as scandalous as you. Well, at least the rest of the world loved you. Nonetheless, you came back. You still weren't sure if it was a good idea or for how long, or even if you'd work here or just relax; you were just happy you could eat unhealthy convenience store food whenever you felt like and that kimchi was a standard and not something you'd only find in specific shops. Speaking of, you craved some ramyun with cheese and perhaps some yakult as well. You changed your clothes into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie and chose to wear a black cap and face mask as well. You checked yourself in a huge mirror in the corridor. Your outfit screamed two things: first was "I am a crazy murderer from drama" and and second "look at me I'm a celebrity". You sighed. Honestly what else could you wear? You decided not to change and went out to the nearest convenience store.

You walked slowly taking your time to get to the store while listening to Def Soul hoping lazy beats would calm your nerves. You bopped your head to the rhythm as you entered the store and went straight into ramyun section. You picked your favourite spicy one and grabbed some cheese, yakult and cherry coke. The girl working there seemed really young and you caught her yawning. She apologized and you smiled warmly although she probably couldn't see it through the mask.

"Don't worry about it I'm tired today as well." you said, and she smiled. You paid with a card and regretted not withdrawing any money so that you could tip her. You remember when you were just a bit younger than her, working in similar way but back in the USA; she’d appreciate extra cash. You took the ramyun to prepare it and hummed as you waited for the noodles to get soft. Food always got you to feel better. You were spreading cheese on your noodles when middle-aged men entered the shop. Soon you'd believe it's not your night or perhaps that you got some bad karma, or that you were just cursed. The men came up to the cashier and asked for a pack of cigarettes. You were about to slurp the first noodles when he spoke.

"When will you finish your shift cutie maybe I can pick you up?" He chuckled and the girl tried to smile politely although anyone with eyes could see how uncomfortable she felt. She tried to decline his advances with a small scared voice clearly she was too young to feel comfortable enough to just curse him out.

"You sluts are always the same. You smile at me flirt with me and then act all fucking.."

"Aish!" you didn't let him finish. And he turned your way surprised someone else was in the store. "I lost all appetite," you dropped the chopsticks next to the bowl and moved your gaze at the male: disgust was rolling off from you in waves, and he flinched upon meeting your eyes, "then again who wouldn't if they had to eat in the presence of trash?" You watched as his face got all red and furious, it seemed almost twisted now. "How dare you speak like that to me, you bi..." once again he couldn't finish his sentence this time you silenced him with your swift actions. You closed the distance between the two of you and grabbed his hand firmly. Then you put it behind his back and twisted it painfully enough for him to groan.

"Call me a bitch, I dare you." you said quietly, but he didn't respond, he just jerked trying to escape your hold. He smelled like tobacco, digested alcohol and grease. You scrunched your nose and took him out of the store. You pushed him lightly, and yet he still lost balance and fell. He shot you a glare full of hate and fury while you tried to remain calm. Truth to be told you were scared, yes you jumped in to help the girl, and successfully silenced him, but that was most likely only because he wasn't sober. You were silently asking universe to help you out as you mustered your courage and played your part of "fearless Y/N”.

"Leave or I'll call the police and tell them you harassed both me and the girl." He stood up and spit under your legs before he left. You sighed, a tight knot unravelling itself finally in your belly, adrenaline that was brought up with the surge of fury disappearing now, leaving you bit wobbly. You made mental note to thank the director of The White Fox for making you take those material arts classes, they came in handy. You came back to the store, you didn’t pay attention to the girl that watched you in awe. You just wanted to enjoy your noodles. Finally, able to take the bite you let out disgusted groan they got too soft. Letting out resigned sigh you opened the yakult.

"Miss Y/N.." small voice started next to you. The girl was blushing and smiling. She was cute, had long brown hair and a mole just under her left eye. You smiled back and it seemed to encourage her. "Thank you. You are like the coolest unnie ever. I will always support you and fight anyone that calls you names and.." You chuckled at her eagerness and sudden flood of words. "Thanks kid. What's your name? "Kim Seoyun." "Nice to meet you Kim Seoyun. I'm L/N Y/N." you said with a smile, and she blushed even more. You looked through the window and bit the inside of your cheek. What if he comes back when you're gone, you couldn’t risk it. "Tell me Seoyun when do you end your shift?" She took out a phone from her pocket. "Oh, in ten minutes." "Great I'll wait for you and order you a taxi." "Ah, unnie you don't have to… you already helped me enough and.." "Nonsense", you cut her off "he may come back and I'll sleep better knowing you are safe at home."

She nodded and came back to work. Leaving you with your soggy and lukewarm noodles. You thought about throwing it out but you hated wasting food and so you made yourself eat at least a bit although now it was cold and awfully soft. Ten minutes passed rather quickly and soon you found yourself standing next to the taxi with Seoyun. You gestured her to get in, but she stood in front of you and suddenly bowed deeply while extending her hands in front of you. Much to your surprise she was giving you a popsicle.

"Y/N-unnie I know it's not much but I wanted to thank you..."

You grinned at her while taking the gift. You quickly unwrapped it and tried it, it was strawberry flavoured.

"Thank you. It's the best popsicle I've ever had." You said honestly. Seoyun blushed and entered the car but before the taxi took off she lowered the car window and screamed.

"Y/N-unnie from today I'm your biggest fan! Unnie fighting!" You laughed.

"Mmm. Thank you!" After that car took off and you happily walked back home. Earphones in, phone in your hand as you decided to order some food since the ramyun sadly haven't been quite satisfying. You slurped at the popsicle even though it was the time of year when nights got colder. The taste of strawberries melted on your tongue. It was the first time someone in Korea told you they were your fan, it was also the first time a Korean fan gave you a gift. Despite the chilly air, and cold ice against your lips you felt warmth spreading from your chest. Grinning to yourself, you scrolled through different restaurants still thinking of what should you eat and then you bumped into someone or rather someone bumped into you. Popsicle fell to the ground and so did your phone with earphones brutally torn out from your ears. The man who bumped into you was in a very similar attire as your own he even wore a mask and a cap. You frowned upon realizing the gift from your first Korean fan was melting next to you. You were however about to apologize before he spoke in irritated tone while collecting some boxes scattered around you two.

"Next time watch where you're going." The blood inside you boiled the third time this evening and you snapped back at him before he could add anything else.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going." your tone was so aggressive it was clear all of the frustrations from today's evening build up in you. You gathered your things quickly.

"Excuse me..." he said straightening as he glared at you. His tone was promising a fight or a lecture at least. You didn't feel like any of that so once again today you didn't let someone finish their sentence, a habit of yours as it seems.

"Apologies accepted, asshole." you said fiercely and left him standing there with his stupid boxes in a state of shock. You got into the elevator and decided not to pay anyone any more of your thoughts tonight. You smiled at wooden popsicle stick and quickly forgot about the man downstairs.

Jinyoung was still shocked but also amused by your witty comeback. He knew he reacted upon his emotions when he was rude to you. He was just angry that he had to move the second time in the last two months. Sasaengs somehow found out about his last apartment in which he lived for only two weeks and just started feeling at home. Few days ago they found him, and he was harassed once again. Tired and angry he acted without thinking when you bumped into him and his belongings scattered. He wanted to apologize right away but you growled back at him, and he got irritated, so he wanted to lecture you or at least tell you not to interrupt other people when they are speaking, but you did just that and in very smart matter at that as well. Now Jinyoung was riding an elevator trying to pinpoint your face, he was sure he had seen you somewhere already. He entered his flat and sighed as he realized he had to unpack once again. He decided it could wait till morning.

You were woken up by both pounding and drilling in the wall behind your head. With long groan you pulled a pillow over your head but it didn't help much. You checked the time on your phone. It was seven thirty in the morning and you couldn't fall asleep till three - courtesy of your jet lag. You tried to ignore it hoping that you were sleepy and tired enough to fall asleep, unfortunately to no avail.

"Who the hell does the renovation on Saturday morning?" you asked your own walls with furious tone. You left the bed deciding to speak with the person next door. You didn't even bother to change from your PJ or brush your teeth, or hair, or even to throw something over yourself. You left your apartment in your bunny pyjama set, a gift from your best friend. Soon you were pounding angrily at the door. It took quite some time before the drilling inside stopped and someone opened the door. The man who opened seized you up and down with his eyes and coughed in his fist diverting his gaze somewhere else.

"Can I help you?" he asked his voice was a bit distressed. "I sure hope you can. It's Saturday seven in the morning." you were fuming, and he finally looked at you although he kept his eyes stuck to your face. "Ah... thank you for informing me. Are you working as personal calendar and clock for all of your neighbours or am I on some special treatment?" he asked sarcastically and smirked which made you: first bewildered and second even more mad if that's possible. "Let me rephrase that for you: it's Saturday, early morning and you are drilling in a wall." "Well, technically it was Mr Ahn who was drilling, I was enjoying myself with a book." He clearly enjoyed teasing you, there was this gleam in his eyes. "Don't you think that's a bit too early for a renovation?" your voice was seething with venom although you tried to keep your cool. "Quite contrary. I checked with the building manager, and I am only supposed to keep quiet between ten p.m and seven a.m. as you can see I even waited thirty minutes." He smiled at you and in that second you hated him, his stupid brown hair, strangely symmetrical face, weirdly tight cardigan and the fact that you couldn't do much since he was in the right. You just turned on your heels ready to storm off back to your flat when he spoke again. "Ah, and might I add I just love your fashion sense." he raised one brow and his eyes once again travelled through your body. "Excuse me?"

"Apologies accepted." Your face went from frowned and angry to shocked in a second, and he laughed at your reaction before closing the doors and leaving you cursing yourself, your luck and your best friend who thought it would be cute to buy you pyjama set which contained of hoodie with ears and a bunny tail and some shorts.

You entered your apartment, deep red setted on your face from both anger and embarrassment. As soon as you closed the doors the drilling continued. You cursed under the breath and went to shower. You stood long under the stream letting the water wash away both dirt and emotions. Once you were clean and ready for the day you’ve decided to ditch your flat for now since it was too loud for you anyway. This time you went for less sporty look but still all black. It was a turtleneck, slacks, martens and a beret. Chic and comfortable. You did your makeup and hair and went out for breakfast. The car was already waiting for you when you got downstairs. You pulled a black mask over your face and greeted the driver who didn't talk much and so you didn't have to worry about the small talk. You scrolled through your phone checking the messages you got from your manager — there was about twenty of them and somehow each was written with different emotion: rage, irritation, sadness, hopelessness and so on. You sighed knowing that you should probably apologize for the troubles you caused him. Then again what were you supposed to do, not react when half of this country is calling you names? You signed back in your Twitter only to be greeted by thousands of notifications. Most of which were trolls and haters commenting on your tweets with occasional death threats in your DMs. You tried your very best not to read each and every comment knowing that even though you were strong it still affected you. You were; however, positively surprised when you found some supporting voices. There was your best friend (obviously) who fiercely defended you and called out everyone on their bull, he even threatened legal action and you smiled brightly at his tweets, but there were also few Korean celebrities who took your side and defended you as well. Most importantly there were few normal people, fans perhaps, who applauded you and thanked for speaking out. You smiled when you saw user "Y/NUnnieFandomPresidentSeoyun" somewhere in your notifications. Somehow traffic was still bad even on weekend and it took you forty minutes to get to the café you had in mind. Once you got there however you didn't regret time spend on travel. It was café in quiet part of town, it wasn't very popular since it wasn't in Gangnam but because of that it was one of your favourites. No paparazzi, no dispatch, no other celebrities.

The place itself wasn't very big but it had huge windows and was located in front of the park so you could easily grab a coffee and go for a walk or just stay inside and watch people and kids spending their time at the park. The interior wasn't anything special either, it wasn't one of those Instagram worthy cafés. It had simple modern style. You came in and ordered coffee and some toasts and sat in front of the window. There were few people inside so you sat without your mask freely and wondered if your friend was already sleeping. It was around nine here so in Los Angeles it was probably midnight. You texted him asking if he's sleeping, and he just responded by facetiming you right away. His black hair was still wet from shower, and he wasn't wearing any shirt.

"Yah! Y/N-ah!" he scolded you immediately. "How dare you not text or call your best friend for over a day. Do you know how worried I was?" You rolled your eyes at him.

"It's not like you contacted me either. And put some clothes on Tuan."

"Never. I know you secretly love watching my chest."

"Gross. Anyway.. I haven't called because I was tired yesterday, you know jet lag and all of that, so don't get mad at me."

"How are you now?" His playfulness was replaced by concern and it was clear he wasn't really asking about the quality of your sleep which was in fact terrible thanks to your lovely neighbour.

"I'm fine." He gave you the look. "Really. Honestly I didn't expect anything better from what I got, so I'm fine Mark."

"I shouldn't have let you go. You know what? Those people don't deserve you. Come back to the USA and let's live together again I'll even cook. Or I can come to you I'll fight them and keep you company. I'm can easily stream from there.." You giggled at him and he grinned. "You know I'm serious though you can come back I already miss you anyway. God, I should have married you maybe you wouldn't leave me Y/N-ah..." he was whiny again and you laughed. It was an inside joke between you. Both yours and his parents would always tell you to just marry already but neither of you felt anything romantic towards the other one. You'd known each other since you were two and both of you had treated each other like siblings ever since.

"You should have and now it's too late. I'll find myself new victim and feast on their heart like a true gumiho I am." you said in theatrical manner while munching on your toast.

"Honestly who the fuck writes those articles?"

"I don't know but I'm pretty sure... Oh my god. You've got to be kidding me." you said and tried to lower your face down so that the person passing in front of the window you've been sitting by couldn't see you.

"What? What? Is that paparazzi? Your ex? Is that paparazzi rented by your ex?" You frowned at your friend.

"What? No? It's my asshole neighbour." "Never heard of him. Why are we hiding anyway? You can just tell him to back off. Last time I checked you were great at that." He showed you two thumbs up and smiled broadly. "I'm hiding because I'm embarrassed and I don't want to talk to him." "Why?" he laughed. "What did you do?" "I didn't do anything it was that stupid PJ you got me..." you whispered at him while trying to make yourself as small as possible. "Oh my god. One day in Korea and you already got yourself a one-night stand. This is not how I raised you. What would your mother say?" he teased you and giggled. "For the love of... it's not like that." you said angrily a bit too loud perhaps since the men in question who was just ordering by the counter turned around and looked you dead in the eyes. His neutral expression changing to surprised before it transformed to smirk. You cursed yourself and Mark and bowed your head slightly and awkwardly before you turned around to face your now laughing friend.

"You should see your face."

"Shut up. I hate you."

"You love me."

"What a surprise." Third voice spoke up by your side and you cringed a little before you put on your cold mask on.

"A surprise indeed." You said, your neighbour moved his eyes from your face to the screen of your phone carefully placed against the glass. Mark was still there, still half naked and smirking at you.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes."

"No." you and Mark said at the same time and you send him death glare regretting that you couldn't kick him right now. "I was about to go to sleep anyway. Love you."

He disappeared without waiting for your response. You let out soft sigh and reach out for phone.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The man was already sitting next to you. He was smiling at you and perhaps any other person would say it was a warm type of smile but you felt like he was mocking you. Constantly. You straightened up in your seat and eyed him closely. He was wearing the same tight cardigan, it was accentuating his broad frame and muscles hidden underneath soft, brown cashmere and simple but well fitted blue jeans. You had to admit he was handsome and had somehow angelic face which only made you cringe once you compared it to his personality or at least to what he showed you already. "I don't think that's a good idea." You said after a pause, his expression didn't change for a second, and he sipped on coffee that blushing waitress brought a few seconds ago. "How so?" His voice was sweet and melodic, it irritated you even more. "I am a celebrity, there might be an article about me having coffee with you tomorrow." You kept your tone intentionally bored as you played with the spoon. He laughed and you changed your mind his speaking voice couldn't be called melodic when his laughter sounded so beautifully.

"That's funny. I'm celebrity as well I think I'll survive." It wasn't surprising at all, he was too good-looking to not be an idol, a model or an actor perhaps. You held back another sigh. You could already see the headlines "Y/N attacks again will this man keep up with her appetite" or perhaps "One day in Korea, and she already dates �� check out Y/N and her new boy toy". "Yeah I doubt it." you said but quickly added. "Weren't you supposed to renovate your apartment anyway?" "I left it to Mr Ahn it got too loud for me to read in peace."

"I can imagine." Sarcasm was basically dripping from your tongue which only seemed to amuse him even more. His eyes were now twinkling and you thought that he must be a devil in disguise. "I must say it's very lucky that I met you here. What are the odds, right?" "Ah I wouldn't call it lucky, that's for sure." You were currently planning how to escape from this conversation. "So how about we get to know each other a bit better?" He proposed with a warm smile. "I don't think so. I don't even know you." "Oh. That's harsh you do know me. I'm your neighbour and this is our third meeting." He placed a hand over his heart and frowned in pain and you wondered how can one still look handsome while frowning before he continued. "Besides I can fix that. I'm Park Jinyoung nice to meet you. See now we know each other." You fought and urge to roll your eyes and you summoned the most polite looking smile you had in your arsenal. Your phone rang before you could say anything and you've never been more happy to see your manager's face appearing on your screen.

"I'm sorry I have to take it." you said politely, and he just nodded. "Oh I wasn't expecting you to pick up." "Ah manager-nim don't be like that I haven't been picking up only for one day." "Why are you so polite are you with someone?" "Yes." You glared at Jinyoung, he was watching you with a smile with coffee in his hand. "Ok, I can call later." "No!" you almost screamed and cleared your throat trying to remain composure. "No, it's fine." "O-ok. Do you have time today? We should meet and talk I just got something that may interest you. It's really nice drama. I know you said you don't want to play in any of those romantic stories but hear me out this one is..." you'd roll your eyes if not for your neighbour's curious eyes. "Of course when and where will we meet?" You decided to cut off his rumbling. "Really? Before departure, you said you won't play in any stupid drama again." "Ah, I see. I did say that. We should meet today, text me the address then." Hanging up on him, you hoped he got the brains to follow up with text. He thankfully did and your phone barked. Jinyoung laughed again and you gave him confused look. "Did your phone just bark at you?" You blushed against yourself. Was it so weird to have a dog's bark as your message sound? "Ah... yes. I like dogs." You cringed on yourself. Somehow today in front of this man you were constantly losing your cool. He either irritated you or made you flustered enough to forget any eloquent comebacks or eloquence at all. "Anyway it was nice meeting you Jinyoung-ssi but I have to meet up with my manager."

"Oh you're leaving without even properly introducing yourself?" He cocked a brow on you and smirked. You stood up and looked at him coldly. "I'm sorry I don't feel the need." You were about to leave before he spoke again. "Ah… running already... startled... like a true bunny. Come to think of it... it does have a nice ring into it, doesn't it? Bunny. It suits you and you even have a costume already." His voice was so extremely mocking that you felt the irritation buzzing in you like electricity. Not to mention he spoke so loudly the waitress that was blushing at him before now listened carefully. You groaned internally. What if she writes about it somewhere. Media won't let you live especially that he is your neighbour they'd say he is already in love with you. And "bunny" was such a couple pet name. You were in the midst of your internal crisis before he decided to speak again.

"Have nice day bun.." You reacted before you thought, your hand slapped against his mouth before he could say anything more. His eyes got bigger, he was clearly shocked that you were so close to him, that you touched him and that you didn't really care about your language. You on the other had were fuming. You've met your fair share of fuckboys, assholes and idiots but not one of them that had similar status to yours acted with such insolence in public where other people could see you. Well, almost none, perhaps your ex was the only one. You kept your voice quiet, loud enough only for him to hear.

"Shut up. And watch your tongue before I pull it out because the universe be my witness I will and I'll do it with pleasure. My name is not kitten, bunny or any other pet name your buffoon head comes up with. It's Y/N. My name is bloody Y/N." You hissed out and his hand reach out to yours. It was hot from coffee and soft even though his grasp was firm. He took your hand of his mouth and smiled.

"Nice to meet you."

You took a step back and send him the look that must have looked like you were trying to shoot daggers at him.

"I'm sure it is. Now if you excuse me. I don't want to be late."

You rushed to counter to pay only to find out it was already taken care of by Jinyoung. You furrowed your brows and wanted to give him his money back instantly but your phone buzzed and it was your cue to leave. The driver was here.

To Mark 🐰 💙 : One day Tuan... you'll pay for this betrayal

From Mark 🐰 💙 : ILY 2 good night. P.S. He seemed hot 👀

You rolled your eyes how hot was he didn't matter if his sole personality drove you crazy only after three brief meetings. You sighed. This was not how you wanted to spend this day: enraged twice and on your way to see your manager.

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winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years ago

Text

But words can never hurt me... (Sebastian Stan x reader)

Sebastian Stan x depressed reader

Warnings: negative self image, self harm, worthlessness

Word count: 2386

Summary: Reader is an actress alongside Sebastian. She knows how cruel the media can be, but sometimes it just gets to be too much for her.

-------------

It had been a problem for longer than you’d like to admit. Your entire life you had to deal with negative feedback from various groups of people. When you were growing up, it was from your family. In school, it was all your peers. And now, it was the media.

You had been an actress since you were in middle school. It was one of the only things that made you happy. Ironically, you felt the most like yourself when you were trying to portray a character. Something about it made you feel alive. You fell in love.

But despite your acting skills and your passion for the job, the media was absolutely relentless. Telling you all the microscopic things you did wrong or ways you offended people. It was funny sometimes, the things they would come up with to make a headline. But most of the time their words, true or not, cut deep with you.

Back when you were at school and you had bullies to deal with, you turned to the blade to help you numb the pain. This too, made you feel alive. You felt like you were finally doing something right, like you were fixing the problem that was yourself by hurting yourself. It started in places that were easier to hide, your torso and upper thighs. But as time went on, you moved down to your wrists.

Now, years later, you still struggled to put down the knives and razors. It was a battle you fought every damn day. No one really knew about it; as long as your makeup artists could hide it, it was no big deal to anyone. You’d tell them it was from a long time ago.

You had landed a role in the new Avengers Infinity War movie, and you were beyond excited. You got to meet some of your acting idols, the people who inspired you to pursue acting as a career. You were quickly taken under their wing, seeing as you were one of the youngest on set. Most of all Sebastian.

He was impressed by the way you handled what came along with being in the business. The media, finishing school on your own, the inevitable rejection that comes with being an actress - he didn’t think he could’ve handled it that well at your age.

He quickly became like your on-set dad. You didn’t mind this at all, in fact you cherished it. You and your dad had never been close, but you never really complained. He wasn’t mean to you at all, just distant. It was nice to have someone fill that role, even if it had to wait until now.

He never knew about your little secret. On set the makeup artists worked wonders doing cover ups, and off set you were always in some sort of cardigan. The rest of the cast would often give you shit for it, since it was Atlanta, or as Downey and Evans liked to call it, “hotlanta”. You would go along with it, always claiming that you ran cold. No one batted an eye.

Things had certainly gotten better when you joined the cast and became a part of a new family. But that didn’t stop the negative feelings from creeping in or the thoughts from running marathons in your head. And it certainly didn’t stop the media.

You always tried your best to avoid the headlines, but there were some days you couldn’t help yourself. You would think “I’ll just read this one,” only to find yourself still scrolling down a rabbit hole hours later with a tear-streaked face.

Tonight was one of these nights.

You were in your trailer, sitting on your bed. One hand held your phone, and the other you rested your head in with your elbow on your knee. Some of the articles made you laugh. Is this some kind of joke? But others would hit you harder.

‘Nobody’ gets role in new Avengers movie

Who even is this chick?

Why is she even here?

You didn’t want to keep reading, but something in your mind egged you on. You kept scrolling only to find your eyes pricking with tears. You just let them fall. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see them. You were done for the night.

You keep reading until you can’t take it anymore. These freaking reporters… Do they have any idea how much words can hurt a person? No. They don’t. Frustrated, you toss your phone on the bed you were sitting on and put your head in your hands, unable to stop yourself from shaking.

You were at a crossroads in your mind right now. You knew exactly how you could help this whole situation, but you really wanted to be stronger than the urge.

Just fucking get over yourself

It's just words. They don't know you, get a grip

No one loves you. You’re a nobody who got lucky

No one would notice. No one would care.

Just do it you bastard!

You stood up and went over into your bathroom, closing it and locking it behind you. Force of habit. You pulled out a box from its hiding place and opened it: razors and bandaids. It was all you needed.

You rolled your sleeves up and clutched a blade between your fingers, toying with it for a few moments. Did you actually want to do this?

An image of the articles pops into the forefront of your mind. You try to shake it out.

Absolutely.

You press the blade into your wrist and swipe it across, blood beading to the surface almost instantly. You felt it sting as the air greeted your open wound, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet at least. You repeated your actions, stopping when the numbness started to kick in.

You took a deep breath and tilted your head back, dropping the blade on the ground with a clink. You looked back to your wrist - blood was dripping down and pooling in your hand, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to breathe in the peace for a few moments.

What you didn’t know was that this whole time Sebastian had been texting you. You had left your phone on your bed and was silent, so you missed his calls and texts. They started out innocently enough, asking if you wanted to grab dinner with him and some of the others. You were usually quick to respond, so he was a little curious why you hadn’t gotten back to him after 5 minutes. He decided to try and call you

Voicemail.

Now that's surprising. He had never known you to miss a call, you even sometimes would rant about it waking you up in the middle of the night. He texted you again

Hey. are you okay? Why aren’t you answering?

He knew you could’ve just fallen asleep, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hated. After a few more texts and unanswered calls later, he decided to come check on you.

He knocked on your trailer door, but there was no answer. He knocked a little harder. “Y/n? You in there?”

You couldn’t hear him through the doors and due to the blissful peace you were feeling. He let himself in, taking in how you weren’t there. But then he noticed your phone on your bed, notifications lighting it up. His eyes then fell on the bathroom door, which was shut.

He made his way over to that door and knocked again. “You okay in there?” he asked, you gasped. How did he get in? Why was he even here. You looked around at the scene. The blood was drying on your arm, and the blade sat next to you, dried blood also on the floor. How long have I been sitting here?

He spoke again, taking you out of your thoughts. “Y/n?” You could hear worry filling his voice and you cleared your throat, moving to stand. “Yep! Just give me a second…” you said as you scurried to clean up the mess you had made. You flushed bloody napkins down the toilet and cleaned off the blade and your arm before tugging your sleeve over in and opening the door.

He smiled at you, and then worry overtook his features as he looked at your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and walked around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He sighed as you sat down on your bed and he leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom. “Well, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past 30 minutes, and your phone was out here. Which leads me to assume you were in there,” he tilted his head back to the bathroom, “for longer than that. And you’re not wet so you weren’t taking a long shower.”

You fiddled with the ends of your sleeves. “Very observant, Seb,” you said, avoiding eye contact.

He crossed his arms and looked at you. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

You looked up at him and put on a fake smile. “Nothing’s wrong Seb.”

He looked at you, unconvinced. You looked back down at your arms and noticed that blood was starting to spot your sleeve, and you started panicking. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest again, praying he hadn’t noticed something.

But he had followed your gaze and saw something on your sleeve right before you covered it up he pushed himself off of the door frame and came to sit next to you. “Y/n?”

“What?” you asked innocently, not liking where this conversation was going to end up.

“Can I see your hands?” he asked gently.

You widen your eyes at him and crossed your arms even more tightly. “What? No - what are you on about?”

He asked softly “What are you hiding?”

You shook your head. “N-nothing.”

“Then let me see your hands,” he said, holding out his own for you to take.

You shook your head. “Please Seb -”

“Y/n.” he said with adamacy and you knew there was no way to talk him out of this.

Sighing, you shake your head and stand. “I can’t…” you say softly.

He stands up and puts a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes had started tearing up again, and he took note of this. Something was seriously wrong and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He ran his hands down your arms to your elbows, and looked you in the eye. You felt safe with him. Looking down, you drop your arms down, letting him take one in each hand.

He practically froze when he saw blood. He had some ideas but he had hoped he was wrong. Tugging up your sleeve, he saw the new cuts along with some older scabs and breathed in sharply. He looked back at your face and the tears that were making their way down your cheeks. “Y/n…”

You started crying harder, and he quickly wrapped his arms around you. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged. “It’s not exactly easy to talk about, Seb.”

He sighed, afraid to ask his next question. “How long has this been going on for?”

You shook your head against his chest. “A few years.”

Sebastian now felt tears pricking his own eyes. You had always been so strong, all the time, for everyone he had no idea you were hurting, nonetheless hurting this badly. And you never said anything to anyone. “I’m sorry,” he said.

You pulled back, confused. “What? No, it’s not your fault.I’m the one who did this to myself, there’s nothing anyone could have done. I guess that’s why I don’t talk about it. Like it either happens and no one knows about it or people are worried and they get disappointed that you’ve done it again.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true, hun. We all care about you so much, especially me. I just felt like I could have done something, said something, just been there in some way. What brings you to do this to yourself?”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “It’s literally so stupid.”

“Y/n, look at me.” you met his gaze. “There is nothing you could say right now that wil sound stupid. If it’s making you want to hurt yourself like this, then it’s obviously important to you.”

You let out a shaky breath before grabbing your phone and unlocking it, showing Sebastian the page you had just been on, with the worst article in the collection. He looked at it for a few moments, before his expression softened even more and he wrapped his arms around you protectively again.

“You know they make money to make us look bad, right?”

You nodded against him. “I know.”

He sighed. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less though, does it?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. whoever said “sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me” was either naive or deaf.

The two of you laughed a little for a few seconds. Sebastian said, “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?”

You took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s just not a problem you should have to deal with -”

“Y/n.” he pulled back and looked at you again. “I don’t care where I am, or what time of day it is. You ever feel like this, you can call me or text me. I’ll always be here for you.”

You shook your head at him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

He gave you a half smile. “Because you’re so nice to everyone else. You're an amazing person who has so much ahead of them. It’s hard to think a person could not be nice to you.”

You laughed dryly. “Tell that to my entire hometown.”

He smiled sadly and tightened his grip on you. “Please let me know if you ever feel like this again.”

You nodded a little. “I will.”

“You sure about that?”

You nodded again, smiling a little to yourself. “Yeah. I am.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan imagine #tw self harm #tw self hate #fanfiction

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gamergirl929 · 5 years ago

Text

A Player Tamed (Christen Press x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Idk if you’re still taking requests but if you’re willing to or free to do one. I’d love a continuation of the christen/fuckboi reader. I also just love your stories. I read the ones on tumblr all the time. I actually read a fish out of water before I even knew it was you. Amazing writer. I hope you always find love and enjoyment in writing

Oh my god, you’ve been reading my fics for a pretty long time even if you didn’t know it was me right away. ;D <3 Still thank you for your support!

Sequel to: A Player By Default

REPOST BECAUSE FIC WASN’T SHOWING UP IN TAG AGAINNN

“You would never believe that a couple months ago Y/N was a horn dog.” Kelley snickers, firing a ball at you across field and smacking you in the side of the head.

“What the hell Kelley!?” You yell, the defender grinning as she nudges Sonnett.

“Pay attention and stop staring at your girlfriend!”

Your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing pink as you turn to Christen who gives you a massive grin, the grin that always makes your heart skip a beat.

Another ball flies at you, the culprit Tobin, who giggles when it hits you in the back of the head.

“I can’t help it!” You yell, your teammates all laughing.

Christen jogs over to you, your bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

“They’re picking on me...” You sniffle, the woman throwing her arms around your neck, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

“They’re just jealous.”

You snarl when another ball flies your way, the black and white ball getting too close to Christen for your liking.

Kelley’s eyes widen in horror as you chase after her, the defender running as fast as she can.

“You crossed the line Kel!” You yell, the defender swallowing hard as she runs.

“I’m sorry! Christen! Don’t let her kill me!” She yells, the forward shrugging.

“You asked for it Kel.”

“You tamed the fuckboy once! DO IT AGAIN!” She yells and you growl.

Christen watches as you eventually gain on her, football tackling her to the ground, the two of you wrestling.

“Better stop them before they kill each other.” Alex mumbles her eyes going wide when you yell.

“SHE BIT ME.”

***

Christen’s cheeks flush when she catches you staring out of the corner of her eye, the woman giggling.

“Stop it.” She whispers, nudging you and you shrug, leaning towards her as the bus jostles the two of you.

“I can’t help it.” You whisper, kissing her cheek. “Just appreciating my girlfriend is all.” You shrug and Christen grins.

“You can never get enough of saying that, can you?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Nope.”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to her lips, a groan sounding from one of the seats nearby.

“My teeth are rotting from all this sweetness.” Emily groans and you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to Christen’s cheek before resting your head on her shoulder.

“Leave the happy couple alone.” Tobin leans over, flicking Sonnett on the head, the blonde grumbling angrily.

You snicker as the two women bicker, turning your head to kiss the curve of Christen’s jaw.

“Idiots.” You whisper, Christen giggling.

“Our idiots.”

***

You wince, loudly.

The game had been in the USWNT’s favor for the entire game, though that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that one of your old flings had her eyes on you the entire game, helping you to your feet whenever possible accompanied with a charming smile.

The second the whistle blew for the end of the game you broke out into a literal sprint and lept behind your girlfriend, ducking down behind her.

“Protect me.” You whisper, the brunette snorting loudly.

“Past coming back to haunt you?” Kelley teases and you turn her way with a growl.

“Shhh.”

“What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” You mumble over and over again, your eyes wide when you realize your ex fling is making her way towards you.

Suddenly, Christen turns on her heels, grabbing your jersey and pulling you forward, her lips pressing against yours.

Your eyes remain wide as the woman’s lips move, eventually, she parts, grinning up at you with an arched brow.

You blink once, twice, a third time before you smile, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips, the two of you pulling back with a grin.

You pull her close, ducking down to whisper in her ear.

“Your lips are always so soft.” You whisper, kissing her neck and the woman giggles, her green orbs darting around your face.

“Looks like we got rid of her.” She whispers, turning to face you when you remain silent.

“What?” She asks and you shrug.

“You’re just beautiful, that’s all.”

Christen cheeks flush as she playfully smacks your chest.

“Stop it.”

“What!? It’s true!”

***

Unfortunately, though your and Christen’s relationship had been public for months, still articles were being posted about your past flings.

“Is Christen Press just another one of Y/N Y/L/N’s flings?” Kelley reads the headline and you roll your eyes, pulling the aforementioned woman closer.

“No, she isn’t.” You grumble, Christen tilting her head back to kiss the underside of your jaw.

Movie night had been ongoing when multiple articles were posted about you and the woman in your arms.

“10 reasons why Christen Press and Y/N Y/L/N are couple’s goals.” Mallory grins and you chuckle, nudging your girlfriend.

“Y/N Y/L/N’s past relationships...” Sonnett snickers and your eyes widen.

“Why can’t they just leave me alone?” You pout sadly and Tobin ruffles your hair.

“You’ve got a lot of exes Jesus.” Megan snickers and you growl, eyes narrowed.

You swallow hard, glancing down at your lap sadly.

Christen notes the change in your demeanor, her hand slipping into yours.

Sad Y/E/C orbs meet soft greens and you smile softly, the woman leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“It’s okay.” She whispers and you nod uncertainly.

“I know.” You whisper sadly, glancing away.

Christen leans her head on your shoulder, making a note to bring up what happened after the movie ends.

***

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she leaves the shower, making her way to the balcony where you’re standing in nothing but a sports bra and boxers.

You shrug.

“I think you deserve better than me.” You whisper sadly and Christen scoffs, her arms slipping around you from behind.

“No, I deserve you.” She whispers, kissing the back of your neck. “And you deserve me.” You shake your head.

“You deserve someone who hasn’t been through half the NWSL.” You mumble and Christen shakes her head.

“I don’t want anyone else.” She whispers, slowly turning you around until the two of you are facing one another. She cups your cheeks, her thumbs gently tracing your cheek bones.

“I want you.” She whispers and you glance away, smiling bashfully.

“Are you sure...?” You mumble sadly. “Even though I-

Christen leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“No matter how many exes you’ve had.” She giggles, kissing your lips again. “I just want you.”

You smile, your cheeks flushed pink.

“I want you too.”

***

Though Christen had been kind, the media, and a number of the fans hadn’t been, a number of them angry about the fact that Tobin and Christen hadn’t been together like many expected.

Your phone chimes loudly and you sigh, looking at the screen with narrowed eyes.

“You bitch, you broke up Preath...” You mumble and Kelley barks out a laugh.

“They’re STILL sending you hate?” She asks and you nod.

“They didn’t take the news too well.” You murmur as Christen rests her head on your shoulder.

Sonnett snorts.

“You destroyed the best love story since Krashlyn.”

Ashlyn stands, bowing dramatically before Ali pulls her back down into her seat, kissing her cheek.

“Knowing you, you’ll fall down if the driver hits the brakes too hard.”

Ashlyn mumbles, smiling though when Ali again kisses her cheek.

“We were not a love story, we’re friends.” Tobin shakes her head, Emily humming.

“Just wait, rumors will start that you’re all three together.”

You snicker, Christen smacking your chest as you shrug.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind.” You send Tobin a playful wink, the woman rolling her eyes.

“In your dreams.”

You throw your head back with a booming laugh, your phone again chiming loudly.

You look at the screen, barking out a laugh, your body shaking as you cackle, passing the phone to Christen.

The woman’s green orbs widen as she reads the post.

“Oh my god guys, what if they’re all three together...?!”

The whole bus explodes with laughter, everyone laughing whereas you are laughing the hardest.

“I mean, I scored both Christen Press AND Tobin Heath?!” You throw a fist in the air, Tobin throwing something, you’re not sure what, and hitting you in the back of the head.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, there’s only one half of Preath I want.” You grin, turning to Christen who blushes.

“And it’s Tobin.”

“You’re an ass.” Christen rolls her eyes, giggling and you shrug.

“I’m YOUR ass.”

***

Over the coming months, the fans, even Preath shippers, started to see how much the two of you cared about one another and slowly swam over to your ship.

“You two are just trying to kill the gays, aren’t you?” Kelley asks as you head towards the locker room, Christen on your back.

“Just trying to win them over, I really don’t like Chris...” You whisper, loud enough for your girlfriend to hear, the woman biting your ear.

“JESUS!” You yell, glancing over your shoulder. “I’m kidding, don’t need to go all Lord of The Flies on me.”

Christen giggles, nudging your ear with her nose.

“And they’re worried about me hurting YOU, you just tried to bite my ear off.” You mumble, the brunette smirking.

“You didn’t mind it the other night.” She whispers and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushing bright red.

“Why’s your face so red?” Lindsey asks and you clear your throat, shrugging.

“No reason.” You squeak the blonde looking at you with narrowed eyes.

The second you enter the locker room you can hear your phone’s notification tone, pinging over and over and over again.

“We just walked to the damn locker room and you broke the fans.” Megan smirks and you grin.

“Chris did it, not me.”

“OW! Stop biting my ear!”

***

The game had again ended in your favor, Chirsten scoring a number of times which of course made you the proudest girlfriend in the world.

You’d scored as well but that paled in comparison to Christen’s goals, the woman’s wide grin as she ran and lept into your arms making your heart soar.

Christen leans down kissing your lips with a grin.

“You did great.” She whispers and you scoff.

“I did great, you did fucking awesome.”

You spin the woman around, the two of you giggling happily.

“Excuse me, Y/N, Christen? May I have a word.” A woman with a mic makes her way towards you, camera man in toe.

You glance at Christen who nods as you place her down on the turf.

“So, let me be the first to congratulate you on an amazing game, do you think the two of you have a shot at the Olympic Roster?” You glance at Christen, the woman grinning.

“Yeah, I think we both have a shot, I mean we’ve both been really consistent with our passes and shots, we just need to keep showing our potential and see where we go from there.”

The reporter turns to you and you shrug.

“I agree with Christen, I mean she said it best, but I think if there’s a guarantee for the Olympic Roster, it’s Christen Press, I mean, the goals she’s been making this season are stellar, she’s one of the most talented women on this roster.” You nod, the forward blushing as she hides her face against your arm.

“It would be rude of me to not congratulate the two of you on your relationship, Y/N, what would you say to some of the fans on social media who’ve been a little... Worried about your relationship with Christen?”

Christen takes a step forward towards the reporter to take the question, but you shake your head, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“I know you probably have a lot you want to say Chris, but if it’s alright with you I got this one.” You smile and the woman nods, immediately slipping an arm around your middle.

You clear your throat.

“I just want the fans to know that I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past, but if there’s one thing I can say isn’t a mistake is being with Christen Press.” You swallow hard, completely unaware that everyone has their eyes on you.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t make mistakes in the past, I did and I know I built sort of a reputation, but what I want the fans to know is that, I love her and I’ll treat her like she deserve to be treated until she comes to her senses and dumps me.” You chuckle the reporter giggling.

“I’ll let you two go celebrate, great job today guys.”

You nod, turning to Christen who you realize has tears in her eyes.

“What? I’m sorry did I say-

Christen basically tackles you to the turf, her lips pressing against yours.

“Was it something I said?” You laugh, the woman kissing your lips again.

“You love me.” She states, not a question, but a statement the woman already knowing it to be true.

Your eyes widen as they dart around her face, her eyes shining nearly as bright as her smile.

You shrug.

“Of course, I do.” You grin, the woman kissing you again.

“Say it again.”

“I love you Christen.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

#uswnt #uswnt x reader #christen press #christen press x reader #christen press imagine

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sweet-symphony0 · 4 years ago

Text

Despair

Hey hey, guess who’s back and finally had time to write! Happy Twin Tuesday! This one is...current, I’ll say. That’s all I’m going to say.

Summary: 01/06/2021. Rami and Sami can’t believe their eyes. They cope the only way they know how.

Tags: @the-real-ramimalekpeen @xmxisxforxmaybe @killerqueengigi @txmel @laminy @ramimedley @rathernotmyname @ramilicious @sherlollydramoine @edteche2 @hah0106

---

Sami’s phone was ringing, he could hear it vibrating in his bag from he stood next to his desk, surveying his thirty students, their attention quickly diminishing. He ignored it, even as it rang a second time.

“Alright guys-hey, don’t pack up yet, this is important-reading for tonight is chapter 12, your essays on Slaughterhouse Five are due Friday, so don’t forget.” There were groans heard from around the room, and Sami continued, “and no, I won’t be accepting any late papers; I gave you a month and a half for this. That’s more than generous, get it done.”

There were more groans and Sami smirked inwardly to himself as the bell rang and students began shuffling out the door, with a few calls of “see ya, Mr. Malek!” and Sami smiled. “Yeah, have a good day guys. Nice work today.”

When the last student was out the door, Sami took a moment to himself, glad he now had a free period before his next class. He cleared his throat, and began erasing the notes from the smartboard in preparation for the next round, when his phone vibrated and he remembered someone was trying to reach him, idly wondering what was so important that someone would call him at work.

Skimming his notifications, he frowned. Three texts from Rami, a missed call from him, and two texts from friends which he ignored for the time being, instead reading Rami’s messages:

“I know you’re at work, but you need to see this.” and underneath, in a separate message, a link to a CNN article that read “Rioters break windows and breach US Capitol.”

Sami stared, bewildered, and then read the third message Rami had sent.

“Turn on the news.”

Sami reread the headline, clicking the link Rami had sent, and he skimmed the article, his mind reeling.

“What the fuck...?”

Rami’s response was instant:

“You need to turn on the fucking news. Now.”

Sami wasted no time in rushing to the staff room, thanking his stars he had a break for the next forty minutes. It didn’t surprise him that nearly a quarter of the staff were already there, and he slipped inside, spotting a few of his colleagues from the English department. Even though the second bell had rung, no one in the room bothered to move, their eyes transfixed on the news coverage blaring from the TV. And as Sami turned his gaze to watch too, he felt his stomach sink in dread.

There were a cacophony of murmurs around the room, Sami catching tidbits here and there.

“What are we going to do?”

“There’s nothing we can do right now-”

“No, we can’t just-someone has to explain to the kids-”

“No, they’ll find out soon enough, we keep teaching like normal-”

“This is a high school,” one of Sami’s friends in the history department finally sighed tiredly. “You really think those kids don’t know by now? They have social media and cell phones. They know. And we can go about like usual, but this is something we’re all going to be talking about tomorrow.”

Sami’s eyes drifted back to the television, watching intently as he drowned everyone else out. They were inside the building now, hoards of them, a never ending sight. Sami watched with wide, disbelieving eyes, horrified as people scaled the building walls, smashed through windows, and he couldn’t help but think frantically: why wasn’t anyone doing anything?

He snorted to himself. Right. You know why.

He didn’t think he’d be able to go back to work after this. Slowly, one by one, his colleagues filtered out as most of them had classes to attend to that period and couldn’t push being late anymore. Once he was alone, Sami sank into one of the chairs, eyes glued to the newscast, feeling frozen from what he seeing.

He felt sick.

He texted Rami back and forth, a steady stream of furious conversation, not even realizing when the bell rang. Scrambling out of his seat, he rushed back to his room, just in time for when kids started filing in.

“Hi guys,” he pasted a smile on his face. “Settle down, and we’ll get started.”

He taught on autopilot, the forty minutes going by without him realizing, and before he knew it, kids were standing up and he was calling out the same thing from before: “read chapter twelve tonight, your essays are due Friday...”

Whatever previous intentions Sami had about sticking around the rest of the school day to get his work done, he threw right out the window. Racing home, he dug through his fridge for a beer, and then after better judgement, grabbed another, before he turned his TV on and called Rami.

Sami didn’t even let him say hi. “Are you safe?”

“Yeah,” Rami nodded. He was moving through his apartment, Sami could see, presumably to get to a quieter spot, and his gaze was off to the side, watching something. “I’m fine. Nothing here has happened yet, thankfully.”

“Listen,” Sami said urgently. “Stay inside okay? Don’t go out today if you don’t have to. You don’t-no one knows what will happen. Please.”

“I’m not moving,” Rami said. “I can’t-fucking after this, I can’t concentrate. I’m supposed to be rehearsing lines for tomorrow but fuck that. This is insane.”

Sami watched as the mob of people made their way inside the Rotunda, and he sank onto the couch. Then a few minutes later, they were inside the Senate chamber, pushing things around, and when he changed the channel to find another possible view, there was a photo up of a man carrying a confederate flag.

“Oh my fucking god.”

Rami’s voice was low. “I know. It gets worse.”

“Oh no, don’t say that.”

“They-they took down the American flag,” Rami said with barely restrained rage. “And replaced it. With a fucking Trump flag.”

Sami choked. “You’re not serious.”

“I wish I weren’t. And our president,” Rami scoffed. “is encouraging it. Fucking-” he stopped short, thinking for a moment on whether or not to complete what he wanted to say, before he shook his head in exasperation. “It’s all so exhausting.”

“That’s unconstitutional,” Sami murmured, flipping channels again, and he dropped his beer when he saw the constructed noose on the other side of the Capitol, staining the carpet, but he didn’t care. “Who is that for?! What the fuck!”

“What? What am I missing?”

Sami didn’t answer, still rooted on the spot, watching as officers finally brought out tear gas. “Fuck...is there any update on the Senators?”

“Not that I can tell. Though they are saying a few Republican ones are agreeing with this bullshit.”

Suddenly everything clicked, and Sami realized why today, of all days, this was happening. As he watched the coverage of Trump’s tweet, the rally earlier that morning, he idly wondered how much damage had already been caused, and whatever else he’d missed.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he sighed, and Rami chuckled flatly.

“I’ve had a bottle of wine open for the last hour. Wish you were here to join me.”

“Well,” Sami stood up, grimacing at the mess he’d made from the spilled beer. “I can join you from afar. What are you drinking?” Rami gave him the name of a Cabernet they were both fond of, and Sami grinned triumphantly when he found a spare bottle in the back of his wine cooler. Propping his phone up on the counter against the block of chopping knives, he made quick work in opening and pouring himself a generous glass. “Cheers, man.”

“Cheers. What are we cheers-ing to?”

Sami hummed, licking the bit of wine that had dripped down his finger. “To the compete and utter fuckery that has been...the six days of this new year.”

“That works,” Rami was silent for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts, watching the news again. “You know, I...obviously after the last four years there’s been a lot of unrest and contempt. But to this extent, for thousands of people to..to believe-”

“Say an election is rigged and then stop the process in almost every way they can?” Sami took a generous sip of his wine. “To destroy the Capitol? Yeah. I know.”

“Unbelievable,” Rami said succinctly, and after a moment: “I should’ve stayed in London.”

“They’re not much better,” Sami snickered, glancing at his twin. “Besides, London doesn’t have me.”

Rami laughed. “You think I plan my life around you?”

“What, you mean you don’t? I’m shocked. That hurts.”

“Definitely not,” Rami smirked and Sami laughed.

“Alright hot shot, don’t let that hair gel go to your brain too. There’s enough on your head already.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Rami was grinning, and Sami grinned back.

“Just trying to keep you humble, you know. I don’t give a shit if you have a shiny gold toy now.”

“Wow,” Rami muttered. “You wish your hair looked as good.”

“A greasy mess? Yeah, no thanks.”

Rami laughed again, and Sami grinned, pleased at the fact, sipping his wine again as they turned back to the news. “Fuck, it really is a shit show isn’t it?”

“I’ve always said he would leave the White House, but he’ll burn it down with him as he goes.”

“Yeah,” Sami sighed, his anger boiling all over again. “Looks like it. I wish you were wrong.”

“Me too.”

Glancing at the clock, he saw it had been a hour since he’d gotten home, which meant it was around 4pm on the east coast. Tuning back to the coverage, the mob outside the Capitol had grown, more people were scaling the wall to get inside, and Sami couldn’t help but think how all too easy it was for them.

“So uh...where’s the tear gas? The rubber bullets? The arrests?”

Rami snorted. “You’re fucking kidding, right? C’mon. Like that applies to them.”

Sami snorted too, and then laughed weakly, which turned into a laughing fit, and he could hear Rami calling his name. “Sorry...it’s just...fuck all of them.”

Rami raised his glass in a toast before he downed it in one go, pouring another serving. “Amen.”

“God, how am I supposed to explain this to my kids? You’re telling me I have to go to work tomorrow after this?”

“Same here,” Rami said. He was moving again, and Sami could see he was back in the kitchen too, digging through his refrigerator. He produced a bunch of grapes, a platter of salami, and a block of cheddar cheese, and Sami watched as he began to assemble an antipasti platter for one. “I don’t want to head to work. Seems pointless, after this.”

Sami bit his lip thoughtfully. “It’s not...useless. Use it. You’re angry-”

“Angry? No, I’m well passed pissed off at this point.”

“There you go. Use it, use that rage towards your scenes and whatever your character is. It’s...” Sami shrugged meekly at Rami, who was watching him intently. “It’s the only thing we can do at times like this, right?”

“I suppose,” Rami muttered, a tired expression on his face, and popped a grape into his mouth. He turned around, opening the fridge again and came back holding some hummus and olives in his hand. “I imagine it’ll be the only thing anyone will talking about for the next week. Rightfully so.” He opened the olives, laying a few of them out next to the salami, and stuck the jar back into the fridge.

Sami was bemused. “How much are you eating?”

“As much as it takes to get through this shit show. I’m supposed to be on a diet right now, but I don’t give a shit. If I’m going to wine and dine watching this, I might as well do it properly.”

“Now I really wish I were there.”

“Yeah, me too. It would make it more bearable. But...this will do for now.”

Sami went silent, watching the TV again, which was now reporting about gunshots and a woman wounded. “Jesus Christ.”

Rami was muttering under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit, shit-”

They didn’t speak after that, both of them too lost in watching the news coverage, and Sami gripped his glass tightly as took a breath in to ease his anxiety.

Swallowing, he poured another glass, knowing he wouldn’t be finishing the bottle, and instead capped it and placed it in the fridge for tomorrow. It was an odd feeling, one that “scared” wouldn’t be able to cover. It was a looming, threatening feeling; something like this was so deeply entrenched in the fabric of the country. It wasn’t something that would go away on January 20th, as much as he wished for that. He wasn’t surprised that people had so much hatred for anyone other than themselves were coming out of the woodwork, blindly following what their commander in chief told them. The repercussions of this day would be something that would take a long time to repair.

“I’m tired,” he said suddenly. Rami’s voice was quiet, and though Sami didn’t elaborate, Rami seemed to understand what he meant perfectly.

“I know. So am I.”

---

When the crowds eventually thinned out, and Sami went back to work the next morning, he read the highlights of things he’d missed, flipping through the photos of the wreckage before the first period bell rang. When students trickled in, he was met with a sea of somber faces, and he knew he wouldn’t be teaching his regular lesson plans for the day. He felt enraged all over again.

Instead, he hopped up onto his desk, sitting cross legged and observing his students. “Alright. I would be...a very poor educator if I didn’t bring up what happened yesterday to all of you. And I know you’ll hear about it later in the day, I’m sure, but what we do here as teachers affects you guys for the rest of your lives. Now I don’t really care if you can’t tell me the imagery themes in The Great Gatsby, but I do care if you can’t think for yourselves. You’ll be reading and hearing a lot different things in the next coming weeks from people who think they’re right. And you’re all old enough, in my opinion, to have your own opinions on this. That being said, we all know what the banned book list is, correct?”

There were students nodding, and Sami nodded too, and he hopped off the desk to pull said list up. “Good. Pick a book from here, read it. There’s a reason all these books are banned from certain school curriculum, and I want you guys to pick one, and tell me why. It’s January. For every book you manage to get through from now till June, if you give me a one page analysis on your thoughts, I’ll give you extra credit that counts towards your final.” His students perked up at that, and he smiled inwardly. “Five points for every book, sound good?” There were murmurs of approval, and Sami continued, “it’s not mandatory, so don’t feel pressured to this. But I would...appreciate it if you did.”

“What if we read them all?” Someone asked.

There was always one.

Sami’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Good luck. You’ll notice there’s plenty of books on there we’ve read already.”

His students started chattering excitedly, and Sami cleared his throat, glancing at his copy of The Color of Water, which is what they were studying now. They would be finishing that tomorrow, the test for it was Monday, something which Sami had to make over the weekend. He hadn’t decided what to teach next, his gaze drifting to the copies of To Kill A Mockingbird in the back of the classroom, which was what he was planning to start Monday, after the kids took their test.

He debated on it, and then Rami’s words came back to him from the night before.

“He’ll leave the White House, but he’ll burn it down with him as he goes.”

He cleared his throat. “Guys, we’re just going to finish reading for the rest of the period, and we’ll go over the whole book for tomorrow before your test. So if you’ve got your books, take ‘em out.”

Later, once his classes were over for the day, he headed to the library, intent on finding Maria and asking for his next lesson plans.

“Hey Sami,” she greeted. “Back again? How’d they fare with Color of Water?”

“Not bad,” Sami said. “We’re finishing it up, test is Monday.”

“So, you’re here for Mockingbird?”

“No I’ve got Mockingbird,” he murmured, scanning the bookshelves. “That was what I was going to go with originally, but I’ve had a change of heart. Do you know if any of the faculty is teaching Orwell at the moment?”

“The freshmen, some of them are doing Animal Farm. But none of the AP classes right now. Which one?”

Sami spotted what he was looking for, and based on the piles of books they had, no one else had taught it yet, or he was late to the game.

“1984.”

#twin tuesday #twin tuesday fic #sami malek #rami malek #malek twin appreciation #this might not be people's cup of tea #but i've been so angry #come chat with me about the fuckery that is known as the united states government #I tried not to make this too on the nose or preachy #hopefully I succeeded #A note: this doesn't take place in a quarantined zoom classroom obviously #even though LA is awful right now #teachers in this fandom #please tell me if I did the school setting correctly or not

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needsmoresleepwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Gift for Daiyanerd: Miyuki Kazuya. Always cool and collected. Has a great side profile. Good at baseball. Well, no, great is the correct word. (sofa’21)

Moratorium

Read on Ao3

ONE

Miyuki Kazuya

Always cool and collected. Has a great side profile. Good at baseball. Well, no, great is the correct word. Even when he sometimes messes up some of the smaller plays. Reliable. Daring. Funny. Charming. Has probably had a dozen girlfriends, or maybe not. Nobody has been able to get any concrete answer on that one question, but he's definitely a lady's man, his fan club primarily consisting of girls and women that claim they would leave their current lives just to marry him if he so much as hinted interest. Or at least that's what many of the magazines, both sports and gossip ones say about him

Not to be too full of himself, but Kazuya thinks that much of what they say has some foundation. Yeah, people like Yoichi and Jun know better but he has to agree that his catching skills are unparalleled. He might also really like sending magazine covers with blown up images of his smiling (smirking) face to Yoichi just to get a scathing reply or an angry call. His only response is his lady killer (annoying) laugh

He knows he's always being watched by someone, but it completely slips his mind that anything could go wrong on that day

The headlines are brutal and he's gotten many messages and calls from his friends. He hasn't really answered because, well, he hasn't been able to. But he knows what they're saying. He's laying at the hospital with bandages covering most of his torso. He has a sense of deja vu, having been in a similar position when he'd been in high school, but this is much, much worse. Something happened and everyone is scrambling to find out what

Everyone except Rei, who has been detained. The tabloids are lapping this up like it's the sip of water they've finally been allowed after being stuck in a desert for months. Except that they're ruining the lives of the people Kazuya loves the most

He sees different news channels trying to get interviews from the few people that make up his friends. They want to know about Rei from high school. They've dug up her whole life's story and put it on full blast. They want to know about Kazuya, as if they haven't already told all there is to say, invented and created his whole career. They talk about how Rei pretty much scouted him from a very young age. The same women that claim they would do anything for Kazuya have turned razer sharp, claiming that "they knew it all along" and that Rei "had it coming"

They all twist the information for entertainment and Kazuya closes his eyes, disgusted at what they say about her.

There had been an accident. His car had been hit and he knows he needed surgery. Later they found out it was all a setup and he went from being one of the richest people and baseball players in Japan to having nothing. His career may as well be over. It will take too long for him to recover. Games won't wait.

Kazuya throws the remote in his hand and wants to tell them all its lies. He knows Rei would never do something like this. She's smart. It doesn't make sense. As much as Rei will follow a gut instinct, especially if it's about recruiting potential, it's always based on logic. There is no logic here.

His name flashes on multiple headlines and all he wants to scream is no, I didn't she say she stole my money!

The machines connected to his body have been beeping for a while now and finally, nurses and doctors run in. They try to get him to calm down but all he can do is repeat It wasn't her! It wasn't her! Rei would never! Tell them to stop!

Soon he feels drowsy and he realizes he's been sedated.

Before he closes his eyes he sees a picture of Rei next to the news anchor. Her hair is down, her eyes look haunted, but her posture is proud. She's not in her usual suit. Instead, she's wearing that dreaded green top, almost drowning her, making her pale skin paler. She doesn't look right. It's not the Rei he knows. The Rei he owes everything to.

He feels the tears burn his eyes.

----

TWO.

It takes a little over a year for things to "settle" down, but once the storm is over, everything is ruined.

Kazuya still manages to get his face blown up on magazine covers, but this time it's for a different reason. He's now considered a victim and he hates the images of him being wheeled out of the hospital. Of the tabloids somehow getting a shot of his bloodshot eyes, his pale skin, and his hunched shoulders. He wishes his attorney had allowed Kazuya to do something, but everything was too precarious, we have to be careful. Careful of what? He can no longer play baseball. He was already pushing the age of acceptability, only being allowed to continue contracts because he was so good, was still quick, was dedicated in mind, body, and soul to the game. But now he was injured, would be in rehab, and nobody knew if he'd still be able to move as great as before. Nobody would take that risk

Rei is finally released, but her life is ruined too. Hers is worse than Kazuya's will ever be. Not just because she's the supposed mastermind of the accident and subsequent disappearance of his capital, but because she's a woman. It's made him sick how she's been torn apart and left behind. She had already been forcefully (through great results) making her own space at the table. This was just the excuse to make her disappear. Nobody wanted a criminal as their associate. The label was tarnished and it would take time to rebuild their name. "Apologies" had been passed around, but nobody would take the risk of allowing her space again

Nobody thought to ask her side of the story, to reach out and help. She was alone. Nobody could legally take what she's rightfully earned, but they can pile fines upon fines. She is "free to go" but they have severely limited what she can do.

It only makes sense that she finally retires. Kazuya goes to see her with the Seidou team. He breaks when he finally sees what they've done to her, all in "his name", to "protect him". Rei is strong, logical, smart, but she can't help but allow herself to show a bit of emotion at that moment. She wipes away at Kazuya's face, "There's nothing left for me here and there's no use crying. The only way to go now is forward."

Chris recommends that Kazuya go to the same rehab facility he went to in America.

Kazuya doesn't want to leave. It feels like admitting defeat, like running away, like he's abandoning his friends.

Yoichi grits his teeth, tells Kazuya he wants to punch him for being so stupid, "But hitting an injured person isn't my style, even though it's YOU."

There is little progress on his health, both physical and mental, and then Yoichi, who has been singlehandedly taking care of him whenever he has a moment to spare, nearly begs him, "Kazuya, please. Go. Don't let this defeat you. I don't want to admit it but I miss seeing that stupidly smug look on your face. Remember what Rei said. You have to keep moving forward!"

He can't help but laugh one night when he can't sleep, Yoichi's words and his concerned face plaguing his mind. He can't believe he almost let this defeat him. He can't believe he was down enough to force his best friend to make such a face, to make him cry for his sake. He feels like he's let everyone down, especially Rei.

He calls Chris a few days later.

Before leaving, he logs into his Twitter account, which, like any other media source, he's been avoiding for the past year. Someone has obviously logged in and cleared his notifications and as his last stand, no first, because even now "they have to be careful", Kazuya quote RTs an article he hasn't even read, but he doesn't need to. He chooses it because it has one of those headlines. He presses send and logs out.

I NEVER said she stole my money.

----

THREE.

It's two years when he finally comes back to Japan. His rehab had ended months ago but there was a part of him that had been afraid to come back. He's sure Yoichi had sensed it, which is why he'd pretty much dragged him back.

He remembers the conversation they had. It had been really late in Japan, he's sure that Yoichi was on the verge of passing out, could hear every yawn he tried to hide, but he wouldn't let Kazuya hang up, "I'm not hanging up until you agree."

Kazuya sighs, "There's nothing for me to do out there anyway. Here, I've been helping at the hospital."

"But you don't even like that kind of stuff! I bet you're bored out of your mind," Yoichi countered, and Kazuya has to admit that he's not exactly wrong. He misses the excitement from the diamond, feeling the burn on his thighs as he squats behind the batter, signaling different plays to his catchers, the feel of the ball as it lands perfectly in his gloved palm, the roar of the crowd as they once more strikeout another enemy batter. But he can't have any of that. This year Kazuya turns 30 and he has become stiff. He can't move as dexterously as before.

He hears some shuffling on the other end, as if Yoichi is changing positions on his bed, "Look. Not many people know this but...this is actually my last year playing."

Kazuya freezes at that. He knows Yoichi is still keeping up with his own records, has won his team countless matches for his boldness, knows they would never want to let him go. He briefly fears that maybe an injury is involved but shakes his head. No, Yoichi would tell him if that's the case, so then, "Why?"

"That's why I called and I need you to come back," there's another pause, not long, "I'm getting married."

Kazuya blanks out for a moment and then stops what he's doing altogether (he turns off the stove, he'd been making breakfast but this is more important. Besides, he had almost been done), "Married? Did you kidnap some poor girl? I haven't even heard of you dating."

"KAZUYA," he hears Yoichi yell, "I didn't kidnap anyone! And that's because my PR team has been making sure to keep things tightly sealed, and I guess we also haven't been able to see each other much too." That last part is mumbled but Kazuya catches it anyway.

Kazuya hums, still disbelieving, but only slightly. He knows Yoichi wouldn't kid about something like this so if he says he's getting married, he's getting married, "Congratulations then. Not sure how someone found you husband material, but they do say there's a type for everyone. How'd you meet her?"

"You are such a dick," Yoichi hisses, "How are we still even friends?"

Kazuya sometimes wonders the same thing. Yoichi has been with him at his best and worst and has never given up on him. He laughs, "My great personality?"

Yoichi snorts right before laughing, "Yeah right. Anyway, so I met this guy-"

"A husband?" Kazuya cuts him off, genuinely curious, but also can't help but tease, "You hid it so well with all those magazines. I'm sure nobody suspected. No wonder your team is doing such a great job at hiding this."

Yoichi yells into the phone, "Let me finish asshole! No! It's not a guy, her name is Wakana! And she's the childhood friend of this guy I met!"

Kazuya makes a tsk noise, "Yoichi, did you steal her from this guy? Are you a homewrecker?"

Instead of getting mad, Yoichi snorts, "As if. Can you believe Wakana was actually in love with Sawamoron for years and he didn't realize."

Kazuya adds, "So you seduced her?" before Yoichi can continue with the story.

"No? I mean, I'm not sure," but they both know that Yoichi probably couldn't seduce anyone even if he tried. Charmed, yes, but outright seduce? And a girl he liked? Very unlikely, "But she'd been tired of waiting and so I met her after she'd confessed and he rejected her."

"Hmm," Kazuya interrupts again, "So you took advantage when she was down. That makes more sense. She was probably so down about being rejected she would have said yes to anyone. Sadly that someone was you."

Yoichi is flabbergasted, "Take advantage?! MIYUKI, that's not- I'd never - just let me finish!"

Kazuya laughs, "Ok, ok. So how did you meet her? I won't interrupt again."

Just like that, Yoichi calms down and Kazuya notes the happiness in his voice as he laughs, not at Kazuya, but at something, the memory perhaps, and Kazuya is slightly jealous. He's not sure at what or who.

"So this kid, Sawamura, we were going to meet up at the park. He had something to tell me, but then I see him running after this girl, yelling about money or something. So I cut her off-"

Kazuya can't help but laugh, "Y-Yoichi, did you, did you attack the poor girl?"

"Didn't you say you weren't going to interrupt?!" Yoichi screeches, but he starts laughing a bit too, "And no, I didn't attack her but, well..."

There's a groan on the other end and Kazuya can imagine his best friend blushing to the tips of his ears, "I pulled her by the arm and she was surprised, but then she did something and next thing I know I'm on the ground, looking up at her and Sawamura is laughing like he's seen the most hilarious thing ever!"

He wonders if that kid was laughing as hard as he is now. He feels the tears tickling his eyes, his cheeks hurt, and he feels the force of his laugh pulling on his stomach, "I already like the girl. What happened next?"

Yoichi lets him laugh but his voice is annoyed, not at him he notes, but at what happens next, "So Sawamoron comes up finally and he knows the girl and I'm confused and just got thrown to the ground by a girl that doesn't even reach my chin, and I ask him why he was yelling about a thief, because that's what he was doing."

More shifting on Yoichi's end, "And you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He goes "I never said she stole my money!" so I knock him over the head because yeah, he's right, he was YELLING IT. Everyone in the goddamn park heard it! Made him buy me dinner and everything."

Kazuya feels a lump in his throat but pushes it aside, he turns the stove on again to finish preparing his breakfast, "I guess for Wakana I can go back. When's the wedding? And will I be your best man?"

----

FOUR.

Kazuya hasn't even been home a month when Yoichi walks into his apartment with their old Seidou team. Everyone seems to be there, even the first years like Ryo's little brother and Furuya. There really isn't anything Kazuya can do but move aside so that everyone can come inside. At the end of the group, right after the first years enter, he spots someone he doesn't know. A kid with unruly brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin who looks slightly nervous. His posture is too stiff but he's also looking around curiously.

Yoichi notices Kazuya looking at him and comes over for introductions. He pulls the kid into a side hug, "Kazuya, this is Sawamura, Wakana's friend."

Kazuya looks him over. He's heard a few things about him from Yoichi, "So this is Sawamoron?" he teases. He can't help the lift of his lips as the kid splutters in indignation.

A high pitched, "Kuramochi-senpai! You can't call me that anymore, we're practically family now!"

Yoichi howls, slapping the kid on the back, "You're always going to be a moron Sawamura, hyahaha!"

Sawamura grits his teeth for a second before standing up straight, stretching out his hand towards Kazuya, "Good afternoon, It's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Sawamura Eijun! Thank you for inviting me!!"

Kazuya looks at the outstretched hand for a moment before he doubles over laughing. Sawamura let's out another unidentified sound before yelling, "That's so rude Miyuki Kazuya!!" but he hasn't dropped his arm.

Kazuya takes a breath, isn't surprised he knows his name (briefly wonders if he knows who he is), right before taking that tanned hand into his own. Sawamura's hold is firm, if a bit sweaty, nerves probably, "Well, as you so clearly let my neighbors know, my name is Miyuki Kazuya." He pauses, "And I didn't invite you."

Sawamura pales slightly, looks over to Yoichi who just makes a rude noise, "Really Kazuya? You have to be a dick right off the bat?"

Kazuya only smiles brightly, finally letting go of the kid's hand, looks around his house, and says, "Actually, I didn't invite any of you over. Why are you all here?"

The others have already settled into his kitchen and, he peers through the doorway, there are bottles of coke and beer and the smell of oily pizza in the air. Jun has already made himself at home on his couch, a paper plate with a pizza on it. He's halfway into that slice and Kazuya doesn't know why Jun didn't just take an extra slice or two with him before settling down. Ryo and Haruichi are putting things in his fridge. He realizes now how empty his fridge must have been. He had been meaning to go grocery shopping but he supposes he hadn't had the energy to go. Kanemaru is clearing up some of the boxes he had yet to unbox, reading the labels Chris had helped him write, and arranging them accordingly.

He knows that many of these guys are still part of the leagues, wonders how they managed to take a moment to raid his home (notices a few faces are missing, like Yuki but he would have been REALLY surprised if they'd managed to get him to come over). He remembers how they'd made it a routine to visit him when they were at Seidou, knowing he could get lost in strategizing and numbers quickly. He feels a penetrating gaze and turns to see the new kid watching him intently. Kazuya can't help the grin that grows on his face and it's finally starting to feel like home.

He motions the two in, "Well, you may as well come in. Everyone is already inside. Feel free to raid my fridge and make a mess in my new kitchen."

Yoichi laughs, pulling Sawamura inside with him. The kid still looks slightly off-balance, but he sits next to the first years like he belongs and he wonders why this picture looks so right.

Yoichi dives in for the last slice of pepperoni pizza just as Sawamura is about to reach for it and then loudly exclaims, "Hey Kazuya, wanna hear something funny?"

Kazuya has already grabbed his own plate and he wonders how he missed all of these pizza boxes when they first came inside. He grabs one with sausage and mushroom, "Hm?"

"So while we were getting the pizza, we sent Sawamura to go get the drinks, right?"

Sawamura, who had just taken a drink from his can of soda, instantly spits it out and Kazuya is both intrigued and disgusted as he sees the drink mixed with spit cover his table, "Kuramochi-senpai, don't!"

He sees Kanemaru chuckling and Jun roars from the living room. Apparently, there were many witnesses to this apparently funny story. Haruichi pats Sawamura's back softly while the kid's face glows red. Kazuya is momentarily worried he might faint but then curiosity wins out, "Oh?"

Yoichi and he share a look, "Get this, we all gave him our share, right? So he goes in and comes back all mad, saying we didn't give him the right amount, but then, but then," It seems the rest of it is too funny for Yoichi to continue because he starts laughing and he notices Sawamura cover his face. He mumbles something but Kazuya doesn't catch it.

Ryo helps him out. He's also amused, a smirk on his face, "The girl stole his change."

Sawamura uncovers his face and yells, "I never said she stole my money!"

There's a moment of silence before...

Jun. He'd come back into the kitchen to get more pizza, "Who else could it have been? Had to be the girl at the counter, or did you just give up your money?"

Kuramochi, "Easy prey, how you're even a teacher is beyond me."

Kanemaru, "Wait. So it wasn't the cashier?"

Even Kazuya can't help but ask, laughter tickling his words, "Emphasis on "she"?"

Sawamura seems to realize his error and covers his face again. He's mumbling again but instead of being annoyed by the bad habit, Kazuya thinks it's almost cute.

"Haruichi?" Ryo questions and Sawamura uncovers his face to yell, "Onii-san! That's not fair! Haruichi you can't tell, you promised!"

Haruichi is looking back and forth between them, "Well..."

Then Furuya explains all, "He was flirting with the delivery guy."

It somehow gets even louder inside his house and Kazuya can't believe he thought of not returning. It's true that his baseball career is over, but this is where his family is at. This is where his life is truly at. He laughs until the tears in his eyes fall.

They spend hours getting him up to speed on gossip.

----

FIVE.

Even though he's only known Sawamura for a few days, maybe weeks, he's the one that keeps Kazuya company the most. And there's a big reason for that named Kuramochi Yoichi. Even though, or perhaps because, it's nearing the end of his contract, Yoichi gets busier. There are some rumors as to why he's finally leaving baseball, but just like he'd told Kazuya, everything is still under wraps. There are no incriminating photos and no face to put to those rumors jealous girls spread online. Kazuya wonders how things will turn out once Yoichi fesses up but until then, Sawamura becomes his shadow

One, he's not bound to such a strenuous schedule (Yoichi told him Sawamura is the grade school teacher at one of the local schools not far from Kazuya's new place. His new house is conveniently placed so close because it will soon be Kazuya's new workplace and they just happen to be on break now), and second...well, Kazuya's not sure. Yoichi didn't want to tell him. Not exactly

He remembers the last time he actually met up with his best friend.

Yoichi had invited him over for dinner and Sawamura had come up somehow (Kazuya comes to realize that Sawamura comes up in their lives very often). Yoichi had been contemplative. They'd just finished watching a movie and were just sitting there in the dark, the credits rolling.

"You know. If Sawamura had actually been interested in Wakana...I don't think I'd have ever had a chance with her. There's just something about him...he's so..." Yoichi makes vague hand movements, "you know?"

Kazuya laughs and wonders if this is what best men have to deal with with their to-be grooms. Jitters, he's heard them called, but he was sure this feeling was supposed to happen days before the wedding, not so far ahead when there wasn't even a date finalized, "Already second-guessing the married life?"

Yoichi doesn't even take the bait. He just sighs and leans back on the couch, "No, I'm serious. There's just something about Sawamura, he's so honest and hardworking. I can see why Wakana liked him."

"Careful, or I might start to think you actually want to marry Sawamura instead."

Yoichi kicks him halfheartedly, "Dumbass."

Their feet are still touching and Yoichi nudges him, "He's a good kid you know."

Kazuya leans out to grab his drink from the low table, takes a sip, "He does seem like it. Although he's a bit..." He tries to find the right word. Dense? Airheaded? No..."innocent?"

Yoichi laughs, "Yes! The stories I could tell you."

It gets quiet and Kazuya enjoys it. It's been years since the two of them have done something like this.

Yoichi breaks the silence again, "You know...Rei actually tried scouting him."

Kazuya takes another swig of his drink, deep, and tries to wash away the feelings of guilt. He hasn't spoken to Rei since the incident. Hasn't really asked about her although he knows she's ok, thanks to Chris

But he's curious now. If Rei had been interested in him then he was undoubtedly good talent, "What happened?"

Yoichi scoffs, "The idiot turned her down! Said he didn't need any fancy schools to play baseball."

Kazuya can't help the snort he lets out into his drink. He hasn't known Sawamura long but he can somehow imagine the face he'd make, how loud he would yell that statement with conviction, "Too bad." He's sure Sawamura could have been someone if he'd come to Seidou and he somehow feels cheated of something

"What position?"

"Pitcher, a southpaw, nasty throw," Yoichi grips his cup tightly. He looks over at him, "He's not a professional but he does still play."

It's a subtle nudge that Kazuya ignores.

Which is probably why he finds Sawamura so often on his doorstep.

Today he's managed to wrangle Kazuya out of his house, but only because it's work-related. The summer heat isn't terrible today so the two decide to walk and even though it's not that far, Kazuya finds himself lightly perspiring. Perhaps he's let himself go more than he thought, and he begins planning a timetable to get his fitness in a better state. Meanwhile, Sawamura is all smiles

"Hurry up Miyuki Kazuya!" He's already at the side door, opening it with his staff key, and Kazuya wonders if they should even be here. There are hardly any cars parked outside and the school is obviously void of children. Classes don't start until next week

"You don't have to call me by my full name," Kazuya tells him as he enters the building. Sawamura slides past him after closing the door, making sure it locks properly, "You can call me Miyuki-senpai."

"What?!" Sawamura's voice echoes in the hallway, "Why should I call you that?!"

"Because you're younger," he pats Sawamura's head and grins, "And smaller."

He slaps his hand away, a blush on his face, "I'm not small! And you're not even that much taller!!"

He stands closer to Kazuya and points at the few centimeters difference between them. Kazuya pushes him back, "Miyuki-senpai."

Sawamura just rolls his eyes and continues walking, "You really do have a terrible personality Miyuki Kazuya!"

Kazuya just laughs, "Thanks!"

"Not a compliment!" Sawamura yells and then points to the rooms in the hall they're in, "I'm usually here with the kids. Since the school isn't that big you'll probably get kids as young as eight and as old as thirteen in your class too, since you're the only gym teacher until Kuramochi-senpai gets married."

Kazuya nods, "Ok, Sawamura...sensei."

Kazuya notes how easy it is to rile up Sawamura. How his face will quickly turn red and his lips will form pouts or grimaces, his body reacting so honestly so quickly. Now he brings up his hands to cover his ears as he yells, "Don't call me that!!"

"Then stop calling me by my full name, it's weird."

"MIYUKI KA-"

Kazuya somehow manages to raise his voice enough to speak over Sawamura, "So Sawamura-sensei, where do the kids go out to play? Sensei?"

Sawamura looks like he's about to burst and goes off yelling. Miyuki follows him, laughing, their voices echoing in tandem

They end up outside behind the school somewhere. Even though it's small, Kazuya is impressed by how well maintained it is. There is a small playground to the side, which has been recently repainted, signs marking the walls and tape clearly discouraging anyone from touching. The mats at the bottom look worn but not in bad shape. Then there is a track that circles what looks like enough field to be a neighborhood. Most of it is empty and Sawamura's talking about how sometimes the kids will go out there and play soccer or volleyball or really whatever sports they need that requires a lot of space. The only place that looks like it truly has a defined purpose is the baseball field.

He feels excited and scared at the same time, wants to run to home plate, to feel the dirt path against his feet, crouch, and take in the view. But he also thinks this is a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have accepted the job. He knows why they want him, why they're willing to wait a year for Yoichi to come and teach. He's not sure if he can take the pressure

"Miyuki-senpai," he turns to Sawamura, who is pouting.

He's not sure why he feels himself calm down, perhaps it's because he'll take any distraction, even if it's loud Sawamura, or maybe it's because Sawamura looks ridiculous with his cheeks puffed out and his eyebrows scrunched up between his eyes. Kazuya smiles. It hurts a bit to do so, "Is this all just for the little gremlins? Lucky them, I didn't have something so big at my disposal when I was at school."

Sawamura suddenly inflates as he grins, "Yeah me neither! I'm from the countryside from a school even smaller than this! Wakana and I had to go to the other side of town with our friends if we wanted to play baseball. That's sort of what it's like here too. We share with some of the other schools and really anyone is welcome to come here as long as the kids aren't out playing."

"Wakana, huh," Kazuya notes. He hasn't actually met the bride-to-be yet, "Is she in the habit of taking people's money?"

Sawamura looks confused and perhaps a bit upset, "What?"

Kazuya only smirks, "I heard how Yoichi met her."

Understanding fills his eyes and he groans, "I keep telling Kuramochi-senpai not to tell that story! It's all lies! Lies! Come on, let's go to the gym, your to-be base."

They head back inside and Kazuya feels the smile that spreads on his face is lighter, amused. It's relaxing being with Sawamura, "So what, she wasn't stealing your money?"

"No!" Sawamura defends, "I never said she stole my money! It was all a misunderstanding!!"

"So what? She was just borrowing it?" Kazuya pushes and can't help but laugh as Sawamura goes red.

"I-It, my, NO! She just grabbed my wallet!! But she wasn't stealing it!"

----

SIX.

Kazuya hasn't been teaching for long when it's time to prepare for Sports Day and he forgets how tiring it can be. Sawamura is ecstatic the whole week leading up to the moment all the kids are let loose to run and play, and he's not sure how the flow of energy works, who feeds off who, but everyone seems to be ready to burst with enthusiasm by then. Kazuya feels like he's the only one who is burnt out. He's not usually used to so much happening, at least not like this

The school asks him to give an encouraging speech before the event begins, which Sawamura jealously admits had been his job the last two years, but he grins all the same. He encourages him to do his best, just like he does to the children and Kazuya isn't sure if he should be offended or glad when he feels the flat of Sawamura's palm on his back.

By then, Yoichi has finally wrapped things up with his team. He still has a few more interviews scheduled, but he's essentially removed himself (as much as he can) from the public eye. He's announced he's going to get married and has been asked many times about his to-be wife, but just like Kazuya, everyone is kept in the dark. On the few nights Yoichi manages to call him, to check up on him, Kazuya teases that maybe this is the most elaborate plan he's ever seen, that maybe this Wakana girl doesn't even exist

Yoichi just laughs, "What? Is The Great Miyuki Kazuya actually curious?"

Kazuya scoffs, "Of course not, and don't call me that. I can't get Sawamura to stop, I don't want you doing the same. It's so weird."

They talk until they're both ready to pass out but Yoichi tells him he'll be there and that he'll bring Wakana too. There's something strange with the way he says this but it's late, they've both been up for too long, and Kazuya doesn't remember the unease the next day

He doesn't remember until Sports Day, right before it happens.

It's usually a big event with parents and friends and the neighborhood coming by to see all their children perform at their best. This school is slightly different because of its size. It isn't just their kids (as Sawamura likes to say and Kazuya, reluctantly, has started to call his students), but a few students from two or three of the neighboring smaller schools. He's never seen the field so packed with kids. There are also a lot of cameras and flashing and suddenly Kazuya feels uncomfortably warm. This year it's not only locals that are here. He can see various news channels documenting the event and there are probably other labels walking around, trying to figure out what the next scoop will be. Or perhaps they've already been hinting at it but Kazuya has been avoiding all the gossip. He briefly wonders if they're here for him and while this might be slightly true, he's sure they're more likely to be here to catch a glimpse of Yoichi and Wakana

He decides to stick with Sawamura for most of the day.

Sawamura seems to be oblivious to all the attention, focusing on the kids, high-fiving everyone who is going to race, yelling encouragements as they pass him by, and yelling out happily as the kids make the baskets and reach the finish lines. Kazuya tries to show his support as well and Sawamura drags him from one event to the next. The parents love him as much as the children do. He briefly wonders if Sawamura will have any voice left for the next day

It's around the time the kids finally get their break for lunch (and that Sawamura pulls him over to an empty patch of grass so that they can finally rest as well, how Kazuya was able to crouch for hours on end before is almost a mystery to him now, he really HAS let himself go) that he starts to hear them

"I didn't say she stole MY money. Did you really not know?" "Is she REALLY here? "The NERVE of her." "We should tell the principal to kick her out. Where is she?"

Everything starts to go quiet as Kazuya looks around. There are too many people around, but he manages to find her by the fence behind the diamond. She's looking right at him and Kazuya feels himself stop breathing for a moment. He isn't sure what he was expecting but she looks exactly like she did three years ago, except somehow better. Her hair is up in her typical bun, she's wearing a pink button-up with her trademark pencil skirt. There's a small coat hanging off her arm, which is the only sign he has that she plans to stay for the whole of the day's events.

He gets up, ignores Sawamura's confused, "Miyuki-senpai?" and goes to meet her.

He remembers how Yoichi had sounded over the phone the other day and realizes that when he said her, he hadn't meant Wakana, he had meant Rei. She's smiling at him and once they're close enough, she says, "Miyuki Kazuya, it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Rei," he all but whispers and he notices people are looking, the cameras are pointing in their direction and he smiles. He's so happy and relieved to see her. He wonders why he hadn't tried contacting her before, where the guilt and fear have gone. He thanks Yoichi, will thank him later as well, for always doing things like this for him, I'm the worst friend, aren't I? He can already see Yoichi's annoyed face as he threatens to punch him if he says anything so stupid again. He laughs, "It's been way too long. I'm sorry."

He finally has the chance to really apologize for everything, to offer his support, to ask how she's been doing, and he marvels at how Seidou is truly a family. His old teammates haven't just been trying to get him to move forward, they have also been helping Rei regain a semblance of her old life.

When they part, it turns into a game. They both know how things will go so they are bold, they grin, and take each other's hands in a firm shake.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you on the field in the future." It's not a question.

"Of course." It's a promise.

At the end of the day, Sawamura and he are the last to leave the school since Sawamura offered to stay and clean up (and with him Kazuya). The sun is already on the verge of setting and Kazuya can't wait to take a bath and then crawl into bed. He doesn't want to wake up until a week from now.

As they're walking home (or really walking to his house because even now, he's never really asked where Sawamura lives, he imagines not far), Kazuya notices how quiet Sawamura is. He bumps his side with his shoulder, "Lost your voice with all that yelling?"

Sawamura looks over at him and shakes his head. Kazuya is momentarily mesmerized by this side of Sawamura. Quiet, almost shy. He's not pouting or angry, his features calm, slightly sharp on his handsome face. The remaining rays of the sun make his eyes look slightly gold and Kazuya wonders why he's suddenly noticing these things, "What's wrong then?"

The temperature had dropped enough that they were now comfortably wearing jerseys. Sawamura mumbles into the collar of his jersey and Kazuya is annoyed, but only slightly. It's that bad habit of Sawamura's and he wonders if he could tease those mumbled words out of him, is about to do that when Sawamura stops walking, closes his eyes, and yells out, "Do you like Miss Rei?!"

Kazuya is left speechless. At least that answers his other teasing question. Sawamura is as loud as always, "What?"

Sawamura opens his eyes, he's blushing and he can't seem to look him in the eye, "Well, there were those rumors...and then today...I mean, she's really pretty and just..." He goes quiet.

There's a lot here he wants to clear up, but he figures he should start with Sawamura's question, "No. At least, not really."

There's a question in those golden-brown eyes and Kazuya continues to explain, "I'm sure everyone on the baseball team liked her at one point. We were all teenagers and she's a really attractive woman, but that's it. Rei...she scouted me, believed that I could go far, pushed me, pretty much built my whole career. She's not really like my mom, not really an older sister...but yeah, like family."

They're both surprised by how honest he's been, which leads him to his own question, "Rumors? So you knew who I was. Is that why you called me by my full name?"

Sawamura looks embarrassed, "Yeah. I, I was curious about Seidou. I bet Kuramochi-senpai already told you about Rei and her coming to scout me?"

Kazuya nods.

They start walking again, "Well, I started seeing your name come up a lot. I always had trouble with my own catchers, I wasn't very good, sometimes my throws would go wild. I guess. I mean, they felt right, but Wakana, she was my main catcher, it was hard for her to catch them. Anyway, I started following your career. And just, well, then that happened and the rumors..."

They're quiet for a moment. Kazuya thinking back to how Yoichi had called Sawamura's pitch a nasty throw, the way Rei had pointed out Sawamura's staring while they talked and how Kazuya should catch for him, "When I saw him pitch, I knew you two would make a great battery. I knew you would be what could push him to greater heights, and that he would influence you too. All of Seidou. He has the heart of an Ace."

He's curious.

"Do you regret it?"

It's been a few minutes but Sawamura follows his question, turns to him, conviction in his burning eyes, "Never!"

----

SEVEN.

Kazuya finally gets to meet Wakana on his birthday. Yoichi tells him they're going out to celebrate at a fancy restaurant and he's not allowed to say no. Since he is the best man at their future wedding, he supposes it would be rude to not meet the bride-to-be so he pulls out one of his old suits, is relieved it still fits, and decides that's enough effort needed on his part. He also decides to forgo the tie and leaves the first two buttons undone. It's classy.

He's not surprised to see Sawamura also at the restaurant, and he's also not surprised to see him sporting a loud outfit. He's also wearing a suit but his shirt is a bright blue with baseball patterns, he's pulled up the suit jacket sleeves to his elbows (which, might he add, does not match his pants, but it somehow works), and he's actually wearing a tie. There's a girl trying to tame his hair but she soon gives up when Sawamura spots him and calls out, "Miyuki Kazu-mmyaa."

"Eijun!" the girl chides him, "We told you to be quiet!"

She's covering his mouth and let's go once he settles down. He rubs his hand through the back of his hair, ruining whatever work the girl must have done, "Sorry."

The girl shakes her head and turns to him, "So you're the famous Miyuki Kazuya, in the flesh."

Kazuya smiles, "And you must be the infamous money stealing Wakana."

They shake hands and Wakana laughs, "The one and only."

Yoichi comes up behind him, "Good, you're here. I thought I was going to have to send someone to drag you out of bed."

They're escorted to the back where they can dine in private. Yoichi walks in the back with him and Kazuya watches the way Sawamura's body faces Wakana even when they're walking. The way she pushes and holds his arm, laughs at what he says. The way that Sawamura lets her choose where she wants to sit and then makes space so that the table decorations aren't in her way. He sits across from her.

Yoichi whispers at him, "See what I mean?"

Kazuya doesn't need to see them interact to know why Wakana once liked Sawamura, but it definitely solidifies their closeness.

Wakana is very pretty. She has short hair that is slightly tinged with red, natural, she mentions when she sees him looking at her, "I get asked a lot." Apparently, it's a color she inherited from her great grandmother

She's as small as Yoichi claimed her to be, which makes her look tiny with her current company. She's wearing a simple and modest blue dress that matches perfectly with the ties Sawamura and Yoichi are wearing. She's just as honest as Sawamura is, and Kazuya wonders if all the people in his life are like that. It's refreshing. He instantly likes her and knows that Yoichi will be happy. It makes him happy too.

They're waiting on their food when Sawamura tells Yoichi that "Miyuki Kazuya" called Wakana a thief. Yoichi puts down his glass of wine, sending his best friend a glare, "I should have known you wouldn't behave!"

Sawamura is quick to respond, "It's all your fault Kuramochi-senpai! You keep telling that stupid story!!"

"The only thing stupid about that story is YOU Bakamura!!"

They look like children snapping at each other across the table and Wakana is just laughing. She turns to Kazuya, "Did he tell you what actually happened?"

Kazuya nods, "Sort of. Something about borrowing a wallet."

Wakana smiles, "Something like that, yes."

"See! I told you I never said she stole my money!!" Sawamura gets up suddenly but nobody notices the waiter coming with trays until the sound of plates falling to the ground and shattering are heard. But the worst part is probably the cake that Sawamura tries to save. Part of it lands on his hands, some of it on the table, but a big portion of it (thanks to Sawamura's interference), is now all over Wakana's dress. Everyone holds their breath, the waiter looks horrified.

Kazuya knows he shouldn't but he snickers and that seems to bring everything back to life. Wakana laughs and tells the waiter it's ok, she pats his hand reassuringly, "But can we get another cake? We'll pay for both of course."

The man is so relieved, he smiles and nods, and says he'll be right back to clean up, that he can also ask someone to help her out. Sawamura looks constipated and ridiculous standing there with chunks of cake in his hands.

"This is so coming out of your wallet Sawamoron!!" Yoichi cries out as he grabs chunks of cake from Wakana's lap and throws it on the table, "And YOU, I can't believe you did that!"

Kazuya only smirks, looks over at Wakana, and says, "Welcome to the family."

It seems like Wakana isn't just depleting Sawamura's accounts, but also stealing hearts.

----

OMAKE (months later)

It's the wedding night when Sawamura decides to crash at Kazuya's house. They're both exhausted and since they're both going to the same place the next morning, Kazuya doesn't make a fuss. When they make it home, they fight about who will take a shower first and Kazuya wins because, ultimately, this is his house so of course he has dibs. Sawamura pouts as he heads to the living room, ok, ok, just go you evil tanuki bastard.

When Kazuya comes out in a white t-shirt and boxers, he finds Sawamura already passed out on the couch, his arm and leg fallen off the side. He notices that he at least had the sense to take off his suit jacket and shirt. He's only wearing his undershirt and his pants have risen up his shins. Everything else is thrown against the back of the couch and his keys, cellphone, camera, and wallet, are all on the table. He's snoring lightly, his breath coming out more like little sighs, and there's a bit of drool where gravity has decided to do its job.

He's about to wake up Sawamura when he remembers something Wakana told him the first time they met. Right before they left the restaurant, she had pulled him aside, telling the other two NOT to come closer, Next time you get the chance, look inside his wallet. I promise it'll be worth it, and don't worry, he won't mind. He yells a lot but that's all there is.

The wallet is right there and Kazuya wishes it had landed the other way. At least like that, it wouldn't feel like he was snooping. No, he wouldn't. He doesn't really understand why Wakana wants him to look inside, but it's not really any of his business. He shakes his head and walks towards the couch. Before he can even reach forward, Sawamura shifts and mumbles a sleepy, "Kazuya."

Kazuya freezes at the stupid smile on Sawamura's face. He feels his face heat up and he's not sure why. He briefly glances at the wallet again, then moves to shake Sawamura's shoulders.

It takes a moment, a testament to how tired Sawamura is, before his brown eyes open and he sleepily mumbles, "Miyuki Kazuya?"

Kazuya hesitates for a moment. He doesn't have extra bedding and he knows sleeping on the couch is uncomfortable. They were going to share the bed, just like he always does whenever Yoichi visits, but suddenly he wonders if maybe this isn't a good idea. He tells Sawamura it's his turn to shower and nearly drags him to the bathroom. He stands outside just to make sure he doesn't pass out inside and somehow Sawamura looks even more drowsy than before. His skin is red from the heat of the water and they head to the bedroom.

Sawamura is out before his head hits the pillow. Kazuya arranges him on the bed properly and covers him with the blanket.

He finds it hard to sleep, the sound of his name coming from Sawamura's sleepy lips echoing in his head.

---

A/N:

I scoured Reddit for some inspiration and found this interesting prompt: "I never said she stole my money has 7 different meanings based on which word is emphasized." I sort of followed the prompt? LOL

things to note: 1. I just googled "prisoner clothes in japan" and green outfits came up, hence why Rei is dressed in a "green top" 2. I don't actually know how legal proceedings go in japan, if it would take longer or less (but this is fanfic so let's not question it) 3. Again, I don't know how long rehabs take but I'm not aiming for accuracy 4. If it wasn't obvious, Sawamura wasn't in the original Seidou team in this fic (lol) 5. Sports day apparently apparently happens around October (and again, Idk much about it)

I don't think I've ever written anything "complete" for this fandom but I hope you all enjoyed, especially you daiyanerd ^^

p.s. This got out of hand omg it's so long and hardly anything happens i hope you guys don't mind Orz Also, I kind of want to write more for this, maybe Sawamura's side of some of the events, maybe just a continuation, idk....

#misawa #daiya #daiya no ace #ace of diamond #future fic #modern day au #angst and healing #sawamura is best medicine #friendship #kazuya and kuramochi #humor #I write ff #gifts and exchanges #sofatropefestbingo2021 #seasons of anime trope fest bingo 2021 #seasons of anime gift exchange 2021 #fanfiction #First Meetings

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