#i think they would both not even off handedly acknowledge the fact they both had to work hard and earn their godly spots to walk in heaven | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

waspenned · 3 years ago

Text

scenes from an italian restaurant • part six • peter parker (18+)

part of you thought the kiss would never get brought up again - that you'd spend the rest of your days at peace with the staff party. peter, as always, has other plans. • 3k

warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT - no sexual intercourse, but explicit activities and implications, posting after a drunken all-nighter so pls mind Mistakes

now playing: this night by billy joel

part one / previous / next

a/n: GUYS..... we made it........ u deserve a wee treat..... anyway pls sign on to my taglist if u want letting know when I post!! also pls feel free to message me any requests/ideas/ramblings :)))

Part of you feels stupid for genuinely believing that the kiss wouldn't get brought up again. So, you guess you have to talk about it now - now that he’s throwing The Word around and acknowledging the elephant in the room. Not just the room at this point, this goddamn elephant was everywhere; it followed you home, slept in your bed, lived in your chest. Something cold spreads through you, stabbing in your gut, and you would rather be swallowed by the ground than talk about the fucking kiss right now.

Because what was there to say? That even though you kissed once, a month ago, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him? That you spent every shift watching him while simultaneously pretending you didn't care about him? That he’d single-handedly derailed what felt like your whole life, with what was turning out to be the best and the worst kiss you’ve ever had.

“We agreed it was a mistake.” You shake him off of you, then reach past him to turn off the pantry light so you can leave. Peter doesn’t let you go that easily, though, and he flicks the light back on, blocking you in. You shouldn’t have let him trap you, he’d tried to rope you into talking about it before but you’d always had an out - an escape route disguised as a customer upset that his orange juice was too orange. Now it was just you and him, alone .

“I didn’t ask if you thought it was a mistake, I asked if you thought about it.”

“Is that your question for the day?” You’re dodging him, but it’s a risky game, despite the fact you’re willing to lie through your teeth. The kiss played in your head on repeat, constantly, but you’re not letting him have that; that’s for you to know, and take to the grave. You try to turn the light back off, but he’s right behind you, fumbling with the switch. You’re in a few, sweet seconds of total darkness, before the harsh bulb sputters back to life, drenching the both of you with the dim, white wash. He’s closer now, eyes wide with something you don’t want to think about, his voice pleading as he says your name.

“Just tell me.”

“I don’t.” It’s probably the worst lie you’ve ever told. You can’t even put a sliver of your heart into making it believable, and he clearly doesn’t buy it. The hammering in your chest gets louder, spurned on by the proximity of him, the pure anxiety in his eyes. The air feels charged, pumped with a current that would shock either of you if you touched - which you very well might, he’s inches away from you now - and it crackles along the starch in your uniforms. You fight with the switch once more, and he wins out, taking the box from you and leaving your arms useless at your sides. It’s on the floor behind him within seconds, and he comes closer. The sight of him steals your breath from you, and you itch to touch him, before you lose the chance to again.

“Please be honest with me.”

“I can’t, Pete.” There’s one more attempt at the lightswitch, and some fuse somewhere must blow, because the whole diner is plunged into darkness, save for whatever small beams of streetlight can eke their way through the windows. Neither of you seem to notice, because Peter’s all nerves and momentum, his voice taking on a new hardness.

“Fine, question of the day; how do you really feel about the kiss?” Your heart leaps to your throat, and you feel as if you’re gonna throw up months and months of feelings, all strung together in a tight, barbed knot. You’re a liar, you’ve been lying to him for months, and you know you can lie now, but you won’t, because you promised you wouldn’t, and Peter was looking at you in a way that made your chest squeeze. It’s slowly paralysing you, and there’s only one way out; so you end up doing what you know you would have to do eventually, you’d just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. It feels like throwing yourself off of the Empire State Building - like wind whipping past your ears.

You say how you really feel.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

He exhales, and even though it shakes him, he’s steady and still, the warmth of him filling the tiny little cupboard. You’re eighty percent sure the world has stopped spinning, but you can honestly say that you don’t care, because you can see the emotions flooding through him, the weight on his chest either tightening or loosening - you can’t tell.

“Then do it again.”

“We can’t.”

“Kiss me again. Please .”

Peter - beautiful, kind, merciful Peter, does what he always does, and lets you take the lead. You know you shouldn’t, but you’re placing your hands on his jaw, feeling the way it tenses under your fingertips, brushing the light stubble there, and pulling him in towards you. Your lips meet, and you’re flooded with the same euphoric rush you had felt that night, at the party, your nerves tingling with the realisation that you’re kissing him - you’re kissing Peter Parker again.

It’s only when you both remember that you’re both completely alone with no prior commitments, and Peter makes that noise you’ve been wanting to bottle since December, that the weight of the whole thing really sets in. And that weight is hard and warm against your thigh now, as you fall against the pantry shelves, pressed there gently by his hands like a flower between the pages of a book. And that weight makes Peter breathe out this precious little noise when you brush against it, and your head spins with the knowledge that you can get him to do it again and again and again.

You guess were right, you really aren’t friends anymore, because there’s no coming back from whatever’s about to happen next.

What happens next, it turns out, is that you pull Peter closer, tugging and fumbling with the belt loops of his uniform, hooking your thumbs in and pressing his hips to yours. He hisses, like he’s been burnt, but rasps against you through the sensation of it, his face flushed pink and gasping into the mess that your hair has become. His hands are already roaming, in that panicked, indecisive way they were at the party, not quite sure where they want to sit, until he feels your hands under his shirt, realises that all pretences of pretending not to want each other are off, and then he’s grabbing at your ass, running his palms over the starched fabric of your Joe’s trousers.

His skin burns at you - almost as if the heat of him would scorch your fingerprints away - and his roaming hands spur on your own exploring. You’ve never been this close to him, seen this side of him, and the moment rings with newness and novelty, the rush of it pumping through your veins like liquid fire. Your hands shift at his neck, taking the waiter’s cloth from his shoulder and stuffing it on the shelf behind you, then return to his shoulders, feeling the slope of them. Under his uniform, his skin is pliable and soft, but there’s a quiet strongness underneath, his muscles flexing under your touch as his hands map your shape into his mind. His head bows, body curling in on itself, a ragged breath wracking him as he tries to reorientate himself.

“I’m sorry.” He says, voice crackling, and his forehead presses to your shoulder, trying to hide his face. When you jostle him off of you and get a good look at him, his face is that same beautiful pink flush you’ve seen so many times before, blossoming across his lips. His eyes are darker now, overtaken by his widened pupils, but their usual honeyed brown colour brings you an odd sense of comfort. A hand of yours, the one gripping the back of his shirt, snakes up the back of his neck and rakes through his hair, pushing it back from his face and smoothing it into something semi-presentable. He leans into the feeling of it, sighing, but something clearly isn’t sitting right.

“For what?” You scratch at his scalp, and the tension in him eases a little as he tips his head back into your touch, exposing his throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly. When he speaks again, his voice is a rambling hum, too absorbed in the scratching of his head to wrestle his voice out of its pleasured slur.

“This all happened pretty suddenly-“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We can stop if you want.”

“ No! Uh-” Peter somehow gets even redder at how embarrassingly fast his answer is, and you see him fight the urge to hide his face again, mumbling into the charged air. “I don’t wanna stop.”

“Then shut up.” You kiss him again, bruisingly, and you sink your teeth right back into the moment, savouring every noise that falls from him, feather-light. Your fingers scramble to your shirt buttons and with some fumbling, your uniform is falling open, further exposing you to him. He hesitates for a second, pulling away from you to stare down at you, and you’re almost instantaneously embarrassed at the way he’s taking you in.

“It’s rude to stare.” His collar is bundled into your fist, yanking him back to you for another searing kiss, his lips parting in a gasp, and his tongue doing something that makes your head spin. Peter murmurs against you between kisses, pressing himself harder against you, the length of him straining against the polyester.

“I wanted to look at you properly.”

“We’re in the dark, dude.”

“Don’t call me that.” He pulls away, and mutters against the shell of your ear, his breaths coming in hot pants as he cants his hips up towards you. Some part of him brushes against you at the perfect angle, and he swallows whatever noise you dare make like a starved man. “Say my name, please . Call me my name.”

“ Peter! ” You mean for it to come across as scandalised, you really do, but Peter’s too in the zone to notice, and the effects of it wrack through him. There are a few breaths shared between the two of you, then his hands flex on your ass and you both stew in the newfound silence. Something heavy and dangerous was in the air, strung between you, and you know exactly what it is.

The S Word.

Neither of you wants to bring it up, but neither of you are entirely sure just how far this is going. It’s not like you’re a prude, or shy about this sort of thing, it’s just that it was Peter . Peter made it different. Being in the cupboard at your job on the Saturday night closing shift made it different. Suddenly, saying The Word would open up all of these possibilities that you were certain you would never be able to come back from; The Word meant that you would stop being friends. Whether that was through never speaking to each other again from sheer shame, or something far scarier; that you would like it.

The worst part is that you wanted to, and by the looks of it - as well as the feel of him against you - Peter wanted to. Eventually, he speaks.

“Are we…doing this?”

“No follow-up questions.” You quip, almost automatically, and you share a few nervous bubbles of breathless laughter, the sensation of him prickling goosebumps along your skin and tickling your nerves like champagne. Your bravado fizzles away quickly, leaving pure curiosity and a soft anxiety in its wake. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” Peter spares you from the anticipation any longer, clearly much more interested in something else than trying to keep up the charade of feigned nonchalance with you. His hands are higher now, skimming the flesh of your stomach, and moving up to your waist and rib cage. It’s important work to him, it seems, committing every inch, hair and mark to his memory, nestling you into the fabric of his being. “I don’t bring condoms to work, though. Or lube. We could use Sal’s marinara sauce-“

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up, Parker.” You’re rolling your eyes, and he’s smiling, a chuckle moving through him as he dips his head again, turning his attentions to the delicate skin of your neck, migrating upwards to the sensitive spot nestled under your ear. It prickles along your spine, and sings in the dip of your ribcage.

“Ah, there’s - um - there’s condoms and lube packets under the shelves somewhere, actually. We got them in for World Sexual Health Day, Sal is weirdly passionate about national holidays-”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.” His voice is muffled in your neck, but it rumbles through him and resonates into you, tingling your spine.

“I was supposed to move them to the staff room like, three months ago. This is why being lazy is a good thing.”

“I’m not sure about that.” He comes away from you, stooping low to pull out one of the large Tupperware storage boxes that lived under the shelves. He rifled around for a moment, hunting, before resurfacing from the clutter with a string of condoms, the wrappers printed with the Italian flag.

“Oh, great. They’re Italian.”

“They’re condoms, they work. Get one on.” You’re undoing the button of your pants now, wrestling with the zipper, frustrated with the lack of skin contact currently being used to torture you. Every inch of you seemed to cry out for his attention, some definitely more than most - you’d never considered pants to be evil before this moment, but now you’re convinced. In an instant, Peter is in front of you again, condom wrapper caught between the teeth, taking the task from you and you’re practising melting in his presence. His strong hands thumbs over the waistband and your hips, shucking them from you in one smooth movement.

“I can take my own pants off.” You sputter, but the indignancy of it is only half there, more of an act than anything. He’s shushing you, shelving the condom behind you and kissing you again, shutting you up, dissolving your stubborncies into syrupy noises that coat his tongue. He’s damn skilled with his tongue, just like his hands, and your head whirls with the possibilities now open to you.

Not that this was going to become a regular thing. By fuck, though, you hoped it did.

“I wanted to make you feel special.” He murmurs, a little self-conscious, and when you look down, his pants are unzipped. The fly hangs open, unleashing a whole new host of sights you’d only been accidentally-but-not-really thinking about since December.

“ Oh .” You, can’t help it, it just sort of slips out, and you clap a hand over your mouth, his eyes widening - somewhere between amusement and offence.

“' Oh '? Oh, what?”

“‘ Oh ’ nothing.”

It all becomes sort of a blur after that, and it’s almost worryingly easy how quickly you settle into the rut of it, the rest of the world falling away and leaving only Peter, and the searing, all-devouring want that festers in the pit of your stomach. He double, triple, quadruple checks that you’re absolutely certain you want to do this, and then he allows himself to enjoy it, grasping at your skin as if you were about to disappear. One of his warm, strong hands reaches the apex of your thigh, teetering there for an agonising second, then shifts between your legs.

The gasp that comes from you is completely involuntary, and you grab fistfuls of his shirt, kissing him harder to muffle out whatever other noises you would make. He’s as talented as you’d hoped he’d be, his fingers hitting every spot and curve of you, playing you like a damn fiddle. Peter, because he’s actually insane, kisses you and swallows whatever noises slip out of you, unrelenting.

“Jump,” Peter murmurs through kisses, adjusting his grip on you. His other hand is trailing down now, kneading at the flesh of your ass and his head is sinking to the curve in your neck, burying kisses there like treasure. You’re suddenly hyper-conscious of the sound you’re making when he’s not muffling it, obscenities filling the small pantry and weaving themselves into the rows of seasonings and cheeses.

“What?” You ask, despite the fact you’ve already registered what he’s said; and the way he’s pulling at your legs is a clear give away as to what he wants. “Pete, you don’t have to pick me up-“

“ Jump .” He repeats, and your body responds automatically to the tone of his voice. He catches you effortlessly - this dude is ridiculously strong, it’s actually kind of weird - and presses you up against the shelves, your legs parting to let his hips rest against yours. You both shudder at the new sensation, a moan catching in Peter’s throat, the length of him pressed against you.

He props you up on a shelf, and when your weight has been shifted, it’s easier for your own hands to wander, slipping along the front of him and brushing over whatever amount of his underwear is currently shown from behind his unzipped fly. He jolts at the contact, huffing, and when you hook a finger into his waistline, freeing him, he murmurs at the sensation of the cool air against his skin.

You nearly freeze. You knew you weren’t going to be able to come back from this but seeing him - all of him - really cemented it. Something in the back of your mind murmurs, the same anxious monster that filled your veins with ice after you’d pinned him against a wall and kissed him; but when you take him into your hand, swiping your thumb across the lubrication that has collected across the tip, he groans and hisses, drowning it out. Goddamn it , you should have known he would be this noisy - he’s noisy enough the rest of the time. It’s like music to your ears, though, the little hums and pants you pull from him as your hand moves, his own fingers stuttering against you. It’s only when his mouth falls open, his moan echoing on the walls alongside your name, begged like a prayer, that you realise the extent of it.

“You have to be quiet.” The diner is empty, you know that, but some part of you is paranoid anyway. Peter’s body waivers, twitching in your palm, and the tiny movement elicits a thrill in you. He’s heavy and hot in your hand, skin as smooth as a pearl, pre-ejaculate illuminating the shaft in whatever minuscule peals of light fought their way into the pantry.

“Sorry, it-it’s been a while, and it feels really good-” You notice the way he responds to your tone, the way you feel his heartbeat against the heel of your hand, and the great, raging beast of desire within you rejoices at the discovery he likes to be ordered around a little. Looking back, it was obvious from the start; the way he’d turned red whenever you’d grill him a little, the way he’d suddenly got awkward with you following your promotion - you should have known. Maybe then, you could have made fun of him for it, and avoided the absolutely insatiable desire you now had to indulge him in it. Some risky thought pops into your head, and you consider it for a moment, before biting the bullet. He moans again, long and low, as his hips flex and the tip of him bumps at your crotch, slipping over the skin where you need him most.

Reaching behind you, you feel blindly for his waiter’s cloth, patting around where you’d tucked it earlier. Finding it over your right shoulder, you pull from him, watching a desperate, needy spark dance in his dark eyes, and stuff the fabric into his mouth. Almost instantly, he’s melting away, eyebrows crumpling, the fabric stifling the next noise that comes from him - louder than the others. His fingers brush up against some tender spot, and your core shocks you, the slowly mounting pressure within you beginning to crest itself into a wave. Holding his starried gaze, Peter’s chest is heaving with need, his hand squeezing at your thigh, signalling his consent.

You feel around behind you again, grabbing the condom wrapper, and ripping it open, the latex disc nearly slipping from your hands as he changes the rhythm of his movements, your body shuddering. And then, while you’re feeling for the tip of the condom, you hear something that makes you both freeze in your tracks.

Outside the pantry, in the darkness of the diner, something clatters to the floor.

148 notes · View notes

rendevousz · 4 years ago

Text

not a secret anymore

natasha romanoff x fem!teen!reader

summary: nat reveals a secret to the public when your class takes a learning journey to the tower.

requested: yes

warnings: might come off as half assed writing because this probably is one of my worst works i'm so sorry 😭😭

word count: 1681

notes: i'm so sorry i haven't been writing much, i've recently just gotten extremely busy so i had no time to sit down and write (this one was literally written between all the short breaks i had 😫) and i have a few requests piling up so i hope you guys can understand if they come later <3

"hi, y/n!" ally, an agent, greeted you as you, along with your classmates, walked through the east wing hallway of the tower. your classmates—except for peter, ned and mj— turned to look at you with confused looks.

your class was having a learning journey at the avengers tower and you had contemplated on calling in sick to avoid people who worked in the tower acknowledging you around your classmates.

you were actually an avenger—yeah, crazy—, having been rescued during one of the many avengers' hostage rescue missions few years ago. you were able to single-handedly take down a few of your captors, hence why the team took interest in you then.

now, though you had been trained enough, they decided to keep you a secret in order to protect you. lord knows how many people would try hurt you if they ever found out the avengers had a new, teenage recruit. peter was technically still safe as his alter-ego is masked so you had no choice but to only go on missions that weren't in the public eye.

you also lived in the tower so the agents and staff were undoubtedly familiar with you, some even friends with you, just like ally, who had just passed by with a wave of her hand at you before turning the corner.

"did that lady just acknowledge you?" an annoying voice spoke from beside you in a mocking tone. you gulped, not wanting to respond to flash's irrelevant question.

"hey, loser, i'm talking to you," he nudged your arm with his elbow and you held the urge to grab it and flip his whole body upside down. it's not like you couldn't—you had the skills, obviously— but it's the fact that you didn't want to get in trouble for that.

you ended up keeping quiet, like you always did whenever the boy taunted you. peter taught you to do just that. if it were up to you, flash's stupid face wouldn't even dare to show itself in front of you anymore.

speaking of peter, he was nowhere to be seen by now. you internally rolled your eyes. it had only been two minutes and they were already gone. peter was probably showing them around the place. you had no idea how your teacher didn't notice the three of them missing from your group. you were so going to kill them for ditching you and leaving you alone when they knew they were your only friends. they were also the reason why flash still had his head to this day because they'd stop you from doing anything rash. now you weren't sure if flash would be safe from your fury.

"you probably work here as a cleaner on the weekends or something, huh? that's the only way people here would know you," flash jeered. you let out a breath, trying to control your anger towards the boy.

you rolled your eyes, opting to deliberately ignore his insults and walk away instead, hoping you'll bump into those three idiots of friends of yours.

"did you just ignore me?" flash asked incredulously, as if it was a crime to ignore his annoying ass. he pulled you back by your back collar, effectively halting you in your spot.

by instinct, you grabbed his hand that was on your collar, twisting it and turning his whole body around, pinning him against the wall with his twisted arm pressed against his back. it happened in just two seconds which totally caught flash off guard, the boy groaning in pain as he begged you to let him free.

you could hear a series of gasps from all around you and you internally groaned. this is why you always ignored flash's taunting. you didn't want to attract attention to yourself and have people wonder how you could defend yourself so well. but flash just had to provoke you. especially here, out of all places.

"what's going on here?" you heard a familiar voice ask and you sighed.

"oh my gosh! it's the black widow!"

"miss romanoff!"

"oh my gosh, i'm gonna need to get a picture for my mum later, she's gonna freak out!"

you stepped away from flash, releasing him as he dramatically kept rubbing at his arm. as if you even put that much pressure. flash smirked, seeing this as a chance to complain about you to an official avenger.

"this girl right here," flash points an accusing finger at you with a glare, like he wasn't just practically begging for his life twenty seconds ago. "attacked me."

you rolled your eyes, unamused. "i hardly attacked him." you told nat. the woman turned to you, an eyebrow raised as she gave you a knowing look. "this...?" she trailed off and you nodded, knowing what she was insinuating. you'd told her about flash one too many times for her not to immediately figure out who he is from a crowd of students.

"flash thompson. heard a lot about you," she turned to the boy. flash's face lit up, thinking he must've made a name for himself or something that even the black widow knew him. little did he know he did, but not for good reasons.

"i would prefer if you stop messing with y/n/n." nat gave him a sharp look and that grin was immediately wiped off his face. "i– y/n/n?" he stuttered, confused that the natasha romanoff is calling you by a nickname.

"you do know she can kick your ass if she wanted to, right? she's been silent all this while because she didn't want to hurt you but you just never seem to learn, huh?" nat took slow, calculated steps towards him until she was towering over him.

"she doesn't need anyone to protect her because she's fully capable of that but i'm just here to warn you, kid, that she, is not to be meddled with. i'm saying this for your own good, flash thompson. she's capable of much worse than whatever she just did to you. so if i hear you messing around with her or any of her friends," she pauses before continuing with a whisper. "i'll close one eye on whatever she wants to do with you."

you wished you could've taken a picture of the dead scared look on flash's face; it was priceless. you turned to nat once she stepped away from him and she put an arm around your shoulder, leading you both away from the watching crowd.

"i–i'm sorry, miss romanoff," you could hear one of your teachers say and nat stopped, effectively stopping you too as she had you in her hold. "but miss y/l/n is on a learning journey with us and she'll miss the tour of the tower if she leaves with you. we'll be discussing a lot regarding this trip in class and she won't understand what we talk about if she misses this tour. i hope you understand." he spoke nervously.

"with all due respect, y/n's seen the whole tower already," she smiles at him but you could tell it was fake. "even the avengers' residential floors which are closed to the public and most employees of the tower."

your teacher looked at her wide-eyed, mouth open but nothing coming out. nat smiles a fake one once again. "now if you'll excuse us, the both of us have avenger duties to attend to."

gasps could be heard all around you and in the midst of it all, your best friends came back and you made eye contact with them, all of them having the same shocked look on their face.

"avenger duties?! nat, what are you doing?!" you whisper-yelled at the woman who seemed to be enjoying the reactions of your classmates and teachers.

"y/n!" peter ran over to you, your other friends following suit. "oh, um hi miss romanoff," he greets shyly. "thanks a lot, guys, look what happened." you spoke sarcastically, rolling your eyes at them. nat proceeded to drag you away from your friends and the last thing you saw was them mouthing apologies and you half-heartedly mouthing to them back that it was fine.

"relax, y/n/n, the public were about to find out soon anyways." nat said nonchalantly. "what?!" you exclaimed once you two were in a different hallway.

"yeah, you're gonna have press this weekend for this. we're gonna officially announce you to the world as an avenger." she once again says nonchalantly, as if this wasn't the first time you were hearing this. "wait, wait, wait, seriously?" you asked in disbelief. no one had told you anything.

"yeah, i—ohh yeah, you don't know yet," nat remembers and you give her an unimpressed look. she wasn't usually this dumb; she only showed this side of her to you. "sorry, i uh, yeah.. i was supposed to come get you for this. meeting with fury and the rest, yknow?" she tells you and you nodded slowly, taking in the information.

"but tell me it didn't feel good that you got to do that to flash," the woman states excitedly and you playfully rolled your eyes at her. "you got to do something. i'm practically an empty threat to him," you stated matter-of-factly.

"not after this weekend you're not. he'll be afraid of you after. that's what you get for being a smelly bully." you couldn't help the little smile on your face. she really sounded like a child right now and it was adorable.

"alright, natty, whatever you say. let's go before fury releases his fury." you look at her hopefully, waiting for her to laugh at your joke which she responded with an unimpressed look. that of course didn't work as you two burst out laughing looking at each other's faces.

you walked alongside her, the woman resting an arm around your shoulder. you smiled up at her as she talked about her day.

god, you couldn't wait to be able to finally walk out in public with these people you considered family.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky @marauvdersfate

#marvel x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #avengers #avenger!reader #mcu x teen!reader #mcu x reader #avengers x avenger!reader #natasha romanoff x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader

768 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

bad boy good thing viii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 1, 964

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“I can’t believe this!” Jeonghan puffs while he drops his belongings loudly onto the table in the study lounge, causing a few other students to turn and glare.

“Would it kill you to be quiet?” Jungkook grumbles, picking at the edge of the paper of his textbook, eyes never straying away from the content of the page.

“No. I will not be quiet because I thought football bros were bros for life!” Jeonghan whines.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s kind of concerning when you put it that way.”

Jeonghan simply waves the other boy off before he leans forward as if he has something important he has to say. Jungkook knew him well enough to know that it would either waste Jungkook’s precious study time or be something so out of the ordinary that he can’t help but be intrigued.

Jungkook shrugged and takes the chance, anyway.

“Namjoon bailed.” He deadpans. “Again!”

Jungkook stiffens ever so slightly but feigns disinterest with a noncommittal hum.

“Really.”

Jeonghan nods his head, or shook his head—it was hard to tell because he was all over the place and he seemed more displeased than anything.

“I never thought we’d lose our own captain to a girl.” He sniffs.

Jungkook sighs, already done with the conversation because somehow no one can ever mention Namjoon without mentioning you now, apparently because the two of you were hanging out much more frequently. He’s bitter. And he’s confused—because he’s attempted patching things up with you but you only would ever reply to him with curt responses than the enthusiastic ones you used to flatter him with.

JK: hey. there’s a new cafe outside of campus. U wanna go?

Smarty Pants 🐰: Im busy. Next time? :)

JK: are u free tonight?

JK: im heading to the library later. wanna meet up for some ramen first? On me!!!

Smarty Pants 🐰: sorry jungkook, meeting w administrators for pastoral care matters

Smarty Pants 🐰: Do you need help with the content?

JK: oh… it’s fine, just wanted to hang out with you. We haven’t done that in a while

JK: jimin said u finally have some free time next week? Let’s catch up! i’ll treat u to some banana bread :D

Smarty Pants 🐰: i have plans with joon. which day were you thinking?

JK: Anytime. When are you meeting hyung?

Smarty Pants 🐰: we kind of have plans every day, here and there. could I get back to you?

And that was it. The blow that Jungkook knew he deserved but couldn’t deal with. You had tried your best to avoid any personal interaction with Jungkook and he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

“They’re kind of perfect for each other, don’t you think?” Jeonghan interrupts Jungkook’s sour mood when he recalls all his failed attempts at trying to meet with you personally.

Jungkook blinks then furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Joon and your friend _____.” He knocks on the table. “Bunch of nerds together.” He adds with a snicker.

Jungkook stiffens, hands clutching his textbook tighter.

“You say that like there’s something wrong with being a nerd.” He says slowly.

“There isn’t. Really.” Jeonghan defends. “It’s just so … fitting. Captain of the football team who’s lowkey a softie and an art nerd with the overachiever on campus. Their IQ’s combined are probably in the 300 range.”

Jungkook scowls.

“Haven’t you heard of the phrase ‘opposites attract’?” Jungkook asks sourly.

Jeonghan scoffs. “Yeah. Like you actually believe in that cliche phrase. Come on—we all know you’re likely to end up with someone who’s more like you than different.”

The insinuation doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, but he can’t chew Jeonghan out for it anyway. He didn’t know the nature of your friendship with him, nor was he aware of the history the two of you shared.

“Never say never.” Jungkook shrugs.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before taking out his laptop and settling into a comfortable position.

“I think he’s going to ask her to be his girlfriend soon.” He says off-handedly as if he assumed Jungkook gave a shit.

He did, and his heart drops to his stomach.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls out when he spots you slip past him at the foyer outside the humanities building.

You twirl around at the sound of your name being called, and your eyes widen when you spot Jungkook walking towards you with furrowed brows.

“J-Jungkook?”

Why you sounded so scared to see him, he wasn’t sure. But he knows that he’s frustrated because it’s the first time he’s seen you after the game where you and Namjoon left to hang out at the exhibition, despite his desperate attempts at calling you out to hang out with him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Jungkook frowns, cutting straight to the chase.

You splutter for a response, and you realise that you’re basically gaping at him when you clutch your folders tighter to your chest.

“I’ve been busy, Jungkook. I told you this.” You softly remind him.

Jungkook scoffs, and he feels his mean bone grow; feeling the need to correct you because you were smart—and both of you knew that your excuse was lame.

“Really?” He says dryly. “Too busy to hang out with me but not with Namjoon?” He can’t help how bitter he sounds, especially when he’s heard from the rest of the football members; including Jimin and Taehyung that you were spending a suspicious amount of time with the captain.

You furrow your brows at him when Jungkook stares you down, waiting for a response.

“That doesn’t change the fact I was busy.” You huff.

Jungkook frowns at you, clutching his backpack tighter with his hand as he notices the way you avoid his eyes by dropping them to the ground.

“Why are you being like this?” Jungkook accuses, tone already on the offensive.

You gape up at the boy, brows scrunched in displeasure.

“Me? I’m not being anything. I told you that I was busy and we would rain check, didn’t I?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, frustration pooling in his stomach. “Somehow you’re only busy whenever I want to hang out, right?” He scoffs sarcastically. “I thought we were good.”

You stiffen, knuckles turning white when you grip your belongings harder.

“We are.” You say curtly.

“No, we’re not.” Jungkook retorts. “If we were then you wouldn’t need to find shitty excuses to get out of hanging out with me.”

You open your mouth, then close it. You feel yourself grow more exasperated with Jungkook the more he can’t realise the fact that you were still finding a way to navigate the throes of your relationship with him.

“They were not shitty excuses.” You snap. “Listen, we can meet tomorrow for coffee if you really—”

“That’s not what this is about!” Jungkook exasperates, breathing out in a huff.

You purse your lips. “Then what is it, Jungkook? You came up to me and started accusing me of lying to you because I couldn’t meet up at the times you proposed.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw when he notices the way your voice gets increasingly sterner when you talk to him. It only reminds him of the way you used to chastise him when he was younger when he’d do something that was ‘immature’ but standard for a teenaged boy.

“I apologised!” He cries. “I’m sorry I was a dick before this but I’m really trying to fix things between us but you’re—”

“I’m what, Jungkook?” You interject with a frown. “I’m doing my best at healing?” You add softly. “An apology won’t erase what happened.”

Jungkook feels himself deflate, especially at the way your eyes dart away when he attempts to look into them.

“I know it won’t but I just want things to go back to normal.” He sighs.

You screw your eyes shut, finding the words to say before you look at him with such sad eyes that he nearly pulls you close just to comfort you so that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that it was his fault.

“It’s not that easy.” You whisper, gripping at the hem of your sleeves. “It may be for you but it’s not the same for me.”

Jungkook releases a sigh so loud that your eyes widen, as he attempts to think of something better to say—to offer.

“I really am sorry.” He lamely apologises, his voice sounding a lot like a scolded child.

“I know.” You nod. “But you don’t know how it feels to have …” You swallow. “Whatever. We’re good. I just need time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook furrows his brows when you turn away to stalk off, but he grabs at your elbow to turn your body to face him. Your eyes briefly make contact with the way he’s gently holding onto you before they tilt up to meet his confused gaze.

“How it feels to have what?” He pries.

You sigh, shaking off his grip. “Look. It doesn’t matter. I’m being sensitive.” You deprecate immediately.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the spite in your tone, especially when you say it so firmly and seriously when you dismiss him.

“I want to fix this—us.” He pleads desperately. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

As if his words set you off, your eyes snap up and blaze with the pent up fury and anger you’ve been suppressing the entire time.

“Me? Be honest with you?” You scoff. “Real fucking funny. Because when I was honest with you, you turned it on me and took advantage of my vulnerability.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What—?”

“You want honest?” You fume. “Fine. I’ll give you honest but you better listen closely this time because I won’t be repeating myself again.” You poke into his chest, even if it’s fierce and stern, he feels the heartache pouring through. “You were my best friend, Jungkook. You were and are someone important to me and you fucked me over because you knew I couldn’t say no to you. You knew how I felt and you took advantage of that fact just so you could get what you wanted and go.”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, confused at the information you were throwing at him.

“How you felt—?”

You cut him off again with a huff. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. Why else did you think I did all the shit you wanted?”

“I-I don’t understand.” Jungkook stutters, head caught in a loop when you glare at him harder.

“You knew every bit of insecurity that I had and you weaponised that against me just so you could keep me close.” You say softly. “You knew, either way, I would’ve stayed because I’ve always been there, Jungkook.”

“You’re confusing me.” He deadpans, grabbing onto your shoulders so you were forced to stare at him.

He notices the glistening of your eyes as he feels his heart constrict when he realises you’re trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

“Well, you did it first so it’s only fair.” You sniffle. “You can act like shits fine because you weren’t the one who was attached. I was. So just let me have this time to myself to figure things out because I can’t even be around you without being sad, Jungkook.” You whimper.

He calls for your name but you're already furiously rubbing at your eyes as you curse under your breath as you spin on your heels to hurry away.

Jungkook gapes at you as he attempts to process what you just said, but before he can get another word in—you're leaving him to feel the weight of your words in the footsteps that draw further and further away.

484 notes · View notes

aka-ashi-keiji · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love ! Here is my Shouto Todoroki OS request, quite simple, yet deep: in your opinion, what would it take for Shouto to actually comprehend, then acknowledge his feelings for reader ? Like, I love Slow burns and I think Todoroki's character is perfect for this kind of development. But I wonder how many time it would take him to realize what has been growing in his heart for who knows how long, in a canon way?

Or, to put it in a simple way: How long does it take to Todoroki to come to terms with his feelings, and what does he do about it ? How ?

Here it is, you're absolutely free in this request (But please give us a happy ending with lot of Fluff eidkdud). Thank you so much in advance, ILY ❤💖

Love Made of Broken Iron

Shoto Todoroki

Understanding love, best friends to lovers

One shot, soft angst to fluff

tw: mentions of child abuse.

a/n: this is for one of the kindest mutuals i have! @luluwiie i hope you love this, it was challenging but so so so much fun. hopefully this fulfills your gorgeous request. i love you!

You waited patiently on the porch as your uniform skirt moved with the early morning wind. The cherry blossom trees had just started to bloom and that fact alone was enough to warm the tips of your frozen fingers as your smile crept to your face. But nonetheless, you were freezing and it seemed as though your companion was running slightly behind schedule. You checked the time on your phone and just like you suspected, Shoto was running 5 minutes late to meet you outside his house.

“God shoto, how long does it take you to slip on a uniform?” You huffed out as you placed your phone back in your pocket and turned to knock on the front door. However, before you even got the chance to, it swung open and duel chromatic eyes stared back into yours.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I made us sandwiches for lunch.” He greeted you in his usual calm but hard front demeanor. Instead of commenting about how cold you were and that he should’ve made lunch faster, you simply took it and placed it in your bag. With that, you both started your commute.

You and Shoto have known each other since you were young, but due to his own family issues you both had just recently become friends. As a child, you always admired his splitone features and the way his eyes lit up in two separate ways when he was excited. At age five, you thought he was cool. But now at age seventeen, you can’t help but think he’s absolutely and utterly gorgeous.

Shoto had accepted your companionship your first year of highschool. Both of you always seemed to keep to your desk and shy away from the large groups, that similarity between you two caused you to naturally gravitate towards him. Asking for his number and inviting him to get coffee with you after school was single handedly the scariest but best idea you have ever committed to. Because if you hadn’t done that, if you had just let that day during your first year continue as always and gone to get coffee by yourself, you wouldn’t be where you are right now.

Currently, Shoto is walking on your right, he always insisted on doing so, just so that he could put some distance between you and the street. Your hands wrapped themselves securely around his forearm closest to you, trying to draw from his warmth. Well, that’s what you told yourself. But, in all honesty you just wanted an excuse to be close to him, to connect to him.

It was embarrassingly obvious how in love with Shoto you were, everyone seemed to notice except for him. And you weren’t the only one to take notice of his beauty and fall for his contrasting features. However, with you it was different, you knew that your romantic feelings couldn’t be grouped together with all of his other admirers. You didn’t fall in love with Shoto just because he was beautiful, but because you were able to connect to him and see past that iron wall he fights so hard to keep up.

Slowly, over the past three years at UA, you found yourself becoming immersed with your own feelings, not entirely sure how to deal with them. Your first year wasn’t too bad, you felt the normal butterflies when he would pat your shoulder when you did something well, one of his only signs of affection. And your cheeks still dusted rose as he would greet you in the morning and compliment something about your hair or the way you wore your uniform. But your second year was drastically different. You had a mere teenage crush on Shoto during your first year, but the amount of time you spent with him the summer after allowed for your feelings to expand to new points you didn’t know your heart was capable of feeling.

The intensity of your love spread like wildfire with every passing day you spent with him in the summer air. You’d find yourself growing overly excited about study sessions you would normally dread due to you thinking summer was your time for a break. And you personally hated silent reading with people around, the silence was uncomfortable. But sitting next to Shoto in your own home, you both on the couch with your legs over his lap, the books you read in silence on those days, that silence was comfortable then.

And if your legs weren’t over his lap, your head found its way to his shoulder or his would fall to yours. His peppermint hair sweeping to the side and tickling the nape of your neck and also covering his observant eyes. But no matter how subtle the touches were, no matter how brief the physical connection, the fire within your heart only blazed warmer.

Shoto was notorious for keeping his distance, but he let you get close. He allowed for you to take part in his interests and he took time to explain to you what he feels and why these things bring him so much joy. He let down his iron wall with you, even if it was just a little. But eventually, you learned what that iron wall was hiding. You come to understand why he’s afraid of boiling water and why he flinches so hard when you hug him without warning. You learned the heart-wrenching story of the scar that covers his sapphire eye, and the damage that it caused and still tolls on him today. You now understood why he always insisted on hanging out with you and anywhere outside of his home. And knowing you could provide that sanction for him ignited your heart’s flames all over once more.

Deep down you wanted so badly to expand your connection to him beyond just friends, but something stopped you. This ‘something’ was so definite, it felt nearly physical. It was as if an iron wall stood between you two.

Shoto had never shown any romantic interests in you, but then again he never took notice of anyone in that sort of way. No matter how many girls threw themselves his way, or when countless guys tried to catch a sliver of his attention, he barely even glanced in their direction. And it wasn’t because he was trying to be rude or blow them off. He genuinely just couldn’t tell when someone was trying to flatter him, his social skills still not up to speed. Shoto was capable of feeling, he just wasn’t sure if he should feel.

You knew this first hand, all the hints you dropped about the flames in your chest never were picked up. He simply believed you were platonically complimenting him, that iron wall still plastered around his heart. And no matter how rapid your feelings grew, the fear of rejection always halted your confessions. You loved Shoto so deeply, but you cared for the strength of your guys’ friendship to a much more powerful extent.

One night during finals week of your second year, you and Sho had been studying nearly all day. It was a Saturday and it was around 10:30 at night. You personally were hungry and Shoto himself said he could go for a snack. A late night soba vender had just opened up down the street, seemed like the perfect spot. So you both threw on sweaters over the sweatpants you had sat in all day, texted your parents since they had already gone to bed, and just like that you and shoto were walking down the dimly lit street through the quantum hours of the night sky.

The stars were scattered abundantly that night, the chill that went through your spine with every gust of wind went merely unnoticed due to the night’s beauty. Your hand clutched Shoto’s bicep, he insisted on it as a precaution. It made you feel safer as well, knowing abductions had been more frequent and took place mainly at night. But along with the security it provided, it also warmed you from the inside. The manifestation of love in your heart turned to flames, and the flames seemed to ignite your senses and tint your cheeks pink. By your luck, Shoto didn’t notice any of this, he never noticed how flustered you became when you shared these small touches that seemed to break that iron wall. But, maybe that was for the better.

You guys had ended your commute to the soba vendor, seating yourselves at the counter and ordering respectively. Shoto had insisted on paying since he somehow managed to swipe his father’s credit card, but if it was Enji’s money, you really couldn’t mind. By the time you each had finished up your meal, the time was nearly 11:45. Your walk home was slightly more eventful than the first time around, you decided to take a detour through a park near a quiet pond.

Shoto’s feet dragged after yours all while you tugged his arm as you nearly skipped to the water's edge. You had a slightly more pep in your step than he himself, but that was nearly symbolic of you and Shoto. You two were nearly identical in the way you always held a calm expression, your short but precise remarks, and even in the demeanor you both present when you become even the slightest bit irritated. These similarities manifested from the tough love in which you were raised with, Shoto’s father being mainly all tough and no love. Your parents drilled it into your mind that anything less of perfection was utter failure. But the love he lacked, you still received to some extent as a child. and that’s what set you apart. You had the ability to skip through the night and feel the joy of the starlight reflecting off your eyes, Shoto simply watching and observing your ecstasy. Not entirely processing a feeling he sees now, but has never felt for himself.

Both you and Shoto came to a standstill at the edge of the water, barely any words had been exchanged since you left the soba vendor. The shoes you both wore began to sink into the sand of the bay. You leaned over the edge, Shoto mimicking your actions. Your reflections on the water surface rippled by the Koi fish that swam beneath. The light the stars cast onto their scales bounced back and onto Shoto’s eyes. His focus connected to the fish as it swam down stream and your reflections became whole once more. While his gaze never shifted, you found yours following the change of his features. You watched through the mirror of water as his eyebrows relaxed, the corners of his mouth weren’t pulled tight, but instead they tugged upward in the most subtle of ways. The flames erupted once more, rising from the ashes like wings of a phoenix, the feeling of love you forced yourself to keep inside was fighting back against your will. You averted your gaze in hopes the heat rising in your chest and your face would subside, but even though you stood at Shoto’s right hand, that wasn;t enough to cool the flames. He noticed your sudden change of focus through the movement reflected on the water, and that's when his focus shifted, shifted to meet yours.

When your eyes connected to the brown and blue of his, you couldn’t help but take notice of just how beautiful he truly was. The way his scar emphasized the brightness of his left eye, the way of how they sparkled just as the stars did against the pond you currently stood near. Your mind had become so utterly consumed by your admiration, his words of concern passed right through you.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He spoke softly, the time of night affecting his tone. He waved his hand slightly in front of your eyes, breaking the trance you were trapped inside. His pupils were blown out a slight bit more, his eyebrows furrowed together like they tend to be. You nodded your head, bringing yourself back to reality. Shoto brought his hand down to your elbow, slowly ushering you back to the sidewalk. What happened in the following ten seconds seemed to span for eons. Shoto turned to walk back, still keeping his grip on your arm, gentle but stern. Before you could stop yourself your hand pulled on his shoulder lightly, his attention back to you. Your hand found its way to his chin and his grip on your arm tightened in the smallest bit.

“Wha-”

Your lips cut off his protest of confusion, your eyes squeezed shut as his eyes flew open wider than ever before. You hand caressed his jaw gently as his grip on your arm fell entirely. This connection and such deep affection that was poured into that single kiss was nearly three years of confined emotions, the crave and depth of your love finally sprung free from your soul. But as you enjoyed the brief moment, your senses began to override your heart. You suddenly remembered that what was between you and Shoto was nothing more or less of a close and two way friendship. You were the first to pull away, although the look on Shoto’s face when you finally came back down from your high, he looked as if he had pulled away first.

“Sho, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happ- I shouldn't have done that please-” You rambled on as you took a step back, shame replacing the flames that were there just seconds before.

“Let’s go home, it’s late.” He cut in, his voice possessing an edge it wouldn’t normally.

“Sho please-” you pleaded, but were cut off once more.

“Y/n, please.”

The way he said your name, the motion of his back turned to you waiting for you to follow, it was enough for you to realize this was territory that shouldn’t be touched. And so instead of trying to explain yourself or make sense of what the hell just happened, you both made your way back to your house in complete and utter silence. The street lights and stars your only guide through the wordless lack of warmth. For the first time ever within your connection to Shoto, the silence couldn’t even be described as uncomfortable. It was absolutely unbearable.

Shoto had made sure you made it inside your house before walking down two blocks to his own. The usual goodnight text you received, the reminder to actually sleep, never danced across your phone screen. The conversation labeled with his name remained silent and only held the traces of the goodnight text from the night before. You couldn’t recall crying or ever falling asleep, but you remembered feeling the dampness of your pillow as you woke up the morning after.

Monday soon rolled around and you were in the middle of gathering your things for school. You couldn’t deny you were nervous to repeat your normal routine of walking to school with Shoto, but you decided the least you could do was try. You packed an extra snack for him just in case, just as he did for you on days where you were particularly struggling. You were in the middle of slipping on your shoes when a knock was heard on the door. Your parents left for work before you even woke and so that left you to answer. You expected it to be your neighbor or a local vendor, but there he stood. His uniform nicely pressed, his tie nice and straight, and his hair perfectly parted down the middle, not a single strand of white mixing with red.

“Sho! We don’t have to start walking for another half hour what are-”

“Let’s take a walk. We should talk.” He stated quite plainly, turning and walking down the steps of your porch and waiting quietly on the sidewalk.

You quickly regained your bearings and your bag and made your way to his side as your steps fell in time with his. He began to lead you through a left turn when you two would usually turn right. This is the long way to school, you thought. Maybe he really did finally have something to say. You weren;t sure if you actually were ready to hear it. it all depended on how he felt about your affections. Your fear of rejection still failed to waver even after the act of courage you displayed two days before.

Without knowing, you were walking on Shoto’s right side that day, closest to the street. Shoto only noticed as you accidentally bumped his side as you moved away from a speeding car. Without a word, he placed his hands on your biceps and moved you to his left, putting distance between you and the street. Your breath caught in your throat as he did this, the action that was so natural in any other circumstance. But in this moment in time, it showed that the connection between you two was still there and it held through the tense air that filled the space between.

Suddenly, Shoto stopped. His movements stopped entirely just a few strides in front of you. You as well came to standstill, your gaze connecting to the back of his school blazer. Then, as if the world had suddenly started to move in slow motion, Shoto turned and faced you. His hands flew to the sides of your jaw, his fingers placed behind your ears and at the curve where your jaw meets the start of your neck. His lips crashed into yours, the force behind them angry but warm, much more force than yours had conveyed. He didn’t back away, his eyes were shut as his lips explored yours. The electric that ran through his fingertips and danced across your shoulders and down your arms, spurring into your fingertips. Your hands came up to grip the front of his blazer, trying to ground yourself and not disassociate from this moment. But as quickly as it started, his lips left yours, Shoto pulling away first this time. Both of you heaved, your chests falling and rising rapidly. Saliva glistened across your lips, your own pupils blown out along with his. He brushed his bangs from his vision, focusing his hazed eyes back to you. His silence was broken as he breathed out something similar to a confession and an explanation.

“Y/n I’m gonna talk. And let me say it all before I forget please.” You nodded your head and the intensity your eyes held was enough of an indication that you were ready to hear it all. Shoto was ready to let down his iron wall completely, and welcome you into his heart that was so sheltered it didn’t know what it was necessarily welcoming.

“Look, I’m so sorry for blowing you off and dismissing the kiss that night. I should’ve at least said something, anything. But please understand that rash acts of affection is something I don’t know how to process. You know me and you know how I grew up. The last time I was ever shown any sort of physical love was from my mother, and I was five when she was taken away. I had been feeling a certain way whenever I would spend time with you. My chest would tighten and it seemed as if my heart was going to leap out on my throat. I could feel the heat of my left side intensify, it spreading to my right whenever you smiled at me. I have never felt this way, I never have felt anything close to this. I don’t even know what it is, but it draws me to you. It’s as if I’m being pulled by an unknown force that surrounds you. And it scared me, I was terrified to indulge in this feeling because it was so strange to me. A knot was constantly tightening in my stomach, and when you kissed me it snapped. And it shocked me, the feeling shocked my common sense entirely. I don’t understand this and I don’t know why. I feel these things for you but my body isn;t capable of processing it. And I could see that hurt you, and I’m sorry. I- I just need time. I still don’t know what this is. I can;t say it’s love because I’ve never loved anyone. But I’m trying to understand it because I know one thing. I care about you and I want to always be there to care about you. I feel for you beyond the feelings of a friendship. Maybe this could be love that I feel, but I’m still trying to figure that out. What I’m trying to say is that I want to love you. I’ll teach myself how to do that. But please be patient with me, let me understand these feelings.”

As his voice trailed off, your mind held onto one specific detail he spoke about. It all made sense now. His reaction made so much sense and you cursed yourself for not realizing it before. Shoto wasn;t shown the same love you were as a child, therefore his heart and mind aren’t equipped to process such strong acts of affection. You were, you were shown that extent of love, even if it was just a little. His heart was completely overwhelmed, and his entire ability to reciprocate that affection was held back by those iron walls. Something you failed to realize was that those iron walls don’t only keep feelings out, they also keep his own emotions in. And that kiss that night broke the walls and those pent up emotions flooded his body, rendering him unable to explain his bluntness. It all finally made sense.

“I’ll wait Shoto. I get it, I should’ve known. But I’ll be here to help you understand those feelings. I’ll be as patient for as long as you need because I’m able to understand my own emotions. And from that I know that I love you.” You spoke gently, cupping his hand between yours, silietly promising to be there to help his iron walls come down.

And with that, you pulled him to your chest and wrapped your arms around his waist, his gripping around your shoulders. As you embraced, Shoto vowed that he would work to understand, work to tear down the iron walls around his heart, he would do this all until he could say he loved you too.

Back to present day, nearly a year later. You and Shoto had made your way to the UA campus, about to split to different ends of the hall. His arm was wrapped snugly around your waist as he pulled you closer. His lips connected to your temple as he mumbled something about remembering to eat the sandwich he had given you that morning. You simply nodded and hugged around his waist before he pulled away. You waved him off as he began to walk his own route to class. And before you started to walk your own way, you called out to him just as his back turned.

“I love you sho.” You said loud enough for him to hear, but not so much for everyone in the halls with you two to turn their heads. He turned back around, his bangs hanging low over his two toned eyes, his scar peeking out from behind as he smiled faintly at you.

Shoto waved to you subtly as he mouthed back, “I love you too.”

There it was. You could almost hear the crash of his iron walls fall.

He holsted his bag once more and disappeared into the crowd of your fellow peers. You also began your commute as you smiled extremely brightly to yourself. His iron walls had finally come down, and his heart accepted this emotion now as something it knew. Shoto only knew the feeling of true love because he knew you, and your heart expanded because you knew him. And you now also knew everything hidden behind the walls of his mind and heart. Your guys’ love entirely constructed from the broken fragments of iron that Shoto broke down piece by piece.

>>>>>>

a/n pt. two: gonna take the time to explain why i struggled with this piece. it wasn’t because i didn’t like the prompt or i didn’t have inspiration from it. it was solely based on the fact that i’m terrible at writing love stories! also todoroki is such a complex character and i haven’t completely analyzed him like i have with bakugou and deku and kirishima. that’s why this piece was a little rougher than ones i’ve written for bakugou. nonetheless, i love this story and id love to see shoto smile again :,)

#my hero academia #comfort character #boku no hero headcanons #mha #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x y/n #todoroki fluff #mha shoto #todoroki shoto x reader #mha tododeku #comfort headcanons #friends to lovers #best friends to lovers #ua dorms #domestic #cold soba

197 notes · View notes

the-lightning-strikes-again · 4 years ago

Text

Pacific Rim (2013) and the Chance to Try Again

So I re-watched Pacific Rim (2013), per an anon’s request that I write a Pacific Rim-based Voltron AU. And I know this movie is clearly a love song to mecha genre as its ultimate goal. But in re-watching Pacific Rim in 2021, an odd moment really spoke to me. It was how badly Mako Mori struggled in her official debut in Gipsy Danger, how dangerous her triggered reaction was to other people around her, and yet how Raleigh Becket had an empathetic reaction that helped Mako get back up, resulting in her ability to reclaim her agency against a reputation as a traumatized failure.

I guess a little background to explain further, and why this meant so much to me:

So here’s this Asian woman who’s been asking for years for her chance to prove herself. She’s been told by her guardian, Marshall Stacker Pentecost, that she will fail to function in a drift setting because of her inexperience with reigning in emotions/a need for vengeance. But Mako Mori finally gets the chance to be a co-pilot, finally connects to a very real drift inside a very real jaeger…and then, oop. Becket has a negative reaction to his own memories and falls out of phase. This sets up Mori, who is unexperienced in handling this situation, to “chase the RABIT.” She has a genuinely traumatic breakdown that nearly kills her own comrades in the Shatterdome. She unintentionally activates Gipsy Danger’s weapons to protect herself from the ghosts of her own memories.

The team has to actually shut down the jaeger to protect themselves from being annihilated.

Upon shaking out of the drift, Mako Mori knows she has validated Pentecost’s fears and judgements about her. She is pretty sure she’s lost her chance to achieve her goals.

And clearly, her father figure Stacker Pentecost—who does love her and is as such overprotective—has been struggling the whole time with accepting Mori in a jaeger. The standard Toxic Masculinity figure of Chuck Hansen has a hissy fit that Mori is too inexperienced, and he actively tries to get her pushed out too, even accusing Becket of standing up for Mori only because he thinks Raleigh has romantic interest in her.

But it’s Raleigh…this very masculine dude with the somewhat over pronounced man-strut in his step lol, who does something that I really appreciated seeing.

After everything, Becket fights for Mori’s reinstatement when Mori has lost faith in herself and is trying not to break down in shame. And then he sits by her and actively tries to empathize with her about how rough a drift can be.

And Raleigh doesn’t do this because he thinks she’s pretty, or because he’s trying to take pity on Mori as some kind of male savior for her weak emotional constitution. This is the guy who is most likely to die first if Mori screws up in real-time, and this is the guy who can acknowledge that he helped set Mori into a no-win situation.

And unlike Pentecost (who initially wants to protect Mori at the cost of her own agency) and Hansen (who believes Mori is too incompetent to function above reproach), Becket knows what Mori was capable of. He believes in her 51 drops, 51 kills simulator score. He believes in her physical and intellectual capabilities based off his interactions with her, which are things that both Pentecost and Hanson immediately forget when Mori fails her first real drift and endangers people.

Becket knew what Mori could do if people just…invested in her and gave her a chance, now that she knew what drifting was like. He saw his own struggles in her and empathized with her as a human being. He takes some responsibility even over the fact that she was not simply made aware of/prepared for what she could face in that drift while also being hooked up to a weapon of mass destruction. Because as we see later in the film, once Mori knows what to expect, she can function very well as a co-pilot.

Had Raleigh not believed in her, had Pentecost tried to permanently ground her out of fearful love, and had Mako Mori herself accepted a reality where she was only a failure—the kaiju would have absolutely decimated multiple cities. Because Mori did not remain tied to her initial failure, the resistance lived to fight another day.

The more I thought about the fall and rise of Mako Mori in this 2013 film, the more I really appreciated those moments.

Because if a woman makes a mistake and big-time screws up their debut, it’s usually a death knoll, and even more so if that woman is already living in an environment that makes her a second-class citizen to begin with. People often act like a Chuck Hansen and write her off as incompetent/dangerous, or they pull a Pentecost and assume her to be too weak/too emotional to be of use. There’s not a lot of forgiveness for a woman. Whereas, there’s generally a lot more forgiveness for a man to screw around on the goodwill that he has potential. So it’s pretty rare to see a woman mess up as Mori did, especially in an emotional, traumatized way with such potential consequences…and to see someone still fighting to reach out to her. To empathize with her. To offer her the second chance they knew she could handle.

So it hit me that when the computer in the movie asked, “Drift sequence terminated. Would you like to try again?” and no one answered, Raleigh Becket didn’t have to. Because he had already answered yes, and he had been saying yes for every second he was trying to reach Mori.

And as the movie unfolds, yeah it might be redundant that Raleigh talks to her out loud while they’re fighting. But he takes actual time to warn and prepare her for what they’re facing—because he’s been here before in the real world, and she hasn’t. He’s trying to keep her in the present and to keep himself grounded too so he personally doesn’t bog her down. And it’s in this environment that we see Mako Mori absolutely bloom into one of the best jaeger pilots the world has ever seen, not including that she’s part of the first team to ever single-handedly take down two category four kaiju in one night. And furthermore, we see a Mako Mori who doesn’t just internalize her emotions. She uses those emotions to carry on the fight and to rally Becket to another charge, even when he believes they’re out of options.

So I guess to wind down this rambling meta, I felt that this wild and fun movie contained some content that, whether intended or not, spoke to me today in a new way I hadn’t seen it as before. I thought it was pretty cool how in this movie, women can rise above a failure and try again, successfully even. The message that men can feel empathy with a woman or understand their struggles is still wildly progressive in today’s world, where it’s more acceptable for women to empathize with men than the other way around. The message that trying to understand helps everyone rise together is lit. And I didn’t really expect to be flailing over this movie and this concept in 2021, but here we are, lol.

#Pacific Rim #Mako Mori #Raleigh Becket #Stacker Pentecost #Chuck Hansen #fandoms #mechas #empathy #failure #gender dynamics #I watched to think about a Voltron AU but got caught up in how I felt Pacific Rim did some pretty cool stuff #some things that i've been craving being in fandoms where if a female character isn't perfect then she's trash #it was really refreshing to return to Pacific Rim because it canonically grapples with that concept and rejects it #it says that a triggered and traumatized woman or an angry woman is valuable #she might even be the one to help save the world #I think Mako Mori and Princess Allura would get along well #BUT ALSO PACIFIC RIM UPRISING DOES NOT EXIST #I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT MOVIE AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A TERRIBLE FANFIC #but yeah so anyway back to mecha movies and encouragement to try again even if you fail #that sometimes we can't help failing or are set up for failure #but that you can get back up #and try again #and that a failure or a trauma doesn't have to define a person's identity or capabilities #that's how this movie read to me today

206 notes · View notes

xjoonchildx · 4 years ago

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter one: fan mail

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

***************************

You stare at the words for a moment before folding the paper in half and slipping it back into the envelope you pulled it from.

Honestly?

It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a threat. It happens from time to time in this line of work.

But this note plucks a chord of anxiety inside of you. Must be the eleven missed calls you suspect go hand-in-hand with your little love letter. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for a half-hour now.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin’s voice filters through your thoughts. She’s taken stock of the strange look that crosses your face in the split-second before you school your features back into a mask of calm.

She’s observant like that.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Just some fan mail.”

Your phone buzzes against the papers on your desk -- again -- and Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

Make that twelve.

“Tell you what,” she says, standing to stretch her legs. “I’m ready to go blind from reading these files and I could use an Americano. You want one?”

“Actually yes,” you exhale. “That’s exactly what I need. You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives you one last are you sure you don’t need to tell me anything? look before opening the door to your office. You reassure her with a soft smile but the second the door to your office closes, you blow out one long, heavy breath and reach for your phone.

you: what the hell? [ 3:15 PM ]

namjoon: this can’t wait [ 3:15 PM ]

you: clearly [ 3:16 PM ]

namjoon: come in ASAP [ 3:16 PM ]

You groan.

Namjoon knows you avoid that place at all costs.

It’s not a good look for you to be seen there -- and so as a rule -- you’re not. Your brother is usually understanding about your stance on the matter. But it’s not like him to push so there’s probably a damned good reason why he’s summoning you to his office like some wayward employee.

You glance back at the stack of files on your desk, riddled with notes and highlights. Even after a morning spent tag-teaming with Hyejin, there’s still a shitload of work to be done. But then you look back at that envelope sitting on your desk and pick up your phone again.

you: give me thirty minutes [ 3:19 PM ]

namjoon: okay [ 3:19 PM ]

Paperwork is going to have to wait.

*****************************

You’re not a moron.

You know what people say about your family, what they say about you.

You know what they whisper when you show up to charity galas and fundraising dinners. You know what they murmur the second their false smiles fall and you turn your back. They say that the money that paid for your prep schools and top-notch legal education is blood money; paid for by one of Seoul’s oldest and most powerful crime networks. They say that you took a job prosecuting crime to assuage for your family’s sins.

They’re not wrong.

Your father -- your cruel, unsophisticated father -- shelled out top dollar to put you in fancy schools and fancy clothes and fancy riding lessons. He threw elaborate birthday parties where he showered you with extravagant gifts in front of guests who were only there to celebrate because they feared turning down the invitation.

So others saw your material good fortune and mistook you for a pampered mafia princess. None of them had to come home every day to the stench of death and destruction. None of them had to endure the gossip and the looks and the cold shoulders.

That was a burden you shared with only one other person.

You and Namjoon huddled together during your lavish and turbulent childhood, leaning on one another for strength because no one else understood. He was the only safe harbor you had in the storm you both lived every day.

And then you left.

You walked away from your father and the Gajog and crossed the country to study law. Far from the vicious gossip and prying eyes and violent drama that always awaited you in Seoul. You walked away and decided that you weren’t going to live that life anymore.

But you also walked away from Namjoon.

Now it’s a cold comfort, seeing your brother seated so naturally at the throne of power your father vacated when he died. The old-school brute-force organization your father ran for decades is a thing of the past. In its place, a well-oiled, highly-organized machine -- making far more money and far fewer mistakes.

Namjoon single-handedly pulled the crime syndicate into a new era, dusted it off and dressed it up. He legitimized parts of the business, took up residence in one of the city’s most expensive buildings, and basically dared law enforcement to come get him.

They still haven’t.

And there isn’t a day that Namjoon doesn’t cross your mind.

There isn’t a day that you don’t pray that the menace that existed inside your father never takes root inside of your brother. You pray that he can shoulder the burden of his responsibilities without rotting from the inside out.

If anyone can, you tell yourself, it’s him.

**********************

Namjoon cuts an imposing figure behind his grandiose wooden desk.

He’s seated when his assistant first opens the door to his secure private office, but as soon as you follow her inside he makes to stand.

He looks so tall now, you think -- as though it’s been years since you’ve seen him.

In reality, it’s only been a few months since your last brief encounter, but it’s still hard sometimes to recognize the handsome, polished man in front of you as the kid you grew up with. You’re hit with a pang of regret that it’s been so long since you’ve seen one another face-to-face.

Two men stand guard on either side of Namjoon’s desk, which doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is always surrounded by guards these days.

The only one you recognize is Min Yoongi, who gives a slight bow in your direction as you cross the broad expanse of the office. You’re certain you’ve never seen the second man, who stands eerily still on your brother’s other side. You can feel the stranger’s stare from a distance and avert your eyes.

You bow to Namjoon and take a seat in the plush chair facing his desk. A fond look passes over his features but when he opens his mouth to speak his tone is businesslike, serious.

“I know you don’t like coming in here,” he begins carefully, “and so I have to apologize for asking you to make an exception. I hope you understand this can’t be helped.”

“Yes, of course,” you say softly. “Sorry it took me a while. I’m buried with a new case.”

Namjoon nods.

“That case is the reason why we’ve run into a bit of trouble in the past few days,” he admits. “Some of our friends across town are pretty upset about it. Apparently very agitated and hoping to leverage the fact that you’ve been assigned to this case to their advantage.”

“I see,” you murmur.

You knew the men you’d been assigned to build a weapons trafficking case against were part of a rival organization -- but on paper they were low-level foot soldiers, considered expendable in a business like theirs. Why the Ssijog were so worried about losing a couple of nobodies from their ranks was a bit puzzling.

“I guess that explains this,” you say, reaching into your bag for the letter delivered to your office.

You hand it to Namjoon and he reads the words with a tight expression before turning it over to the man you don’t recognize. It’s a relief when the stranger’s focus moves away from you and onto that paper. You take the opportunity to get a closer look at him.

The first word that comes to mind is sharp.

Everything about the man is sharp -- from his meticulously tailored suit to his severe jawline to the angles of his body. Intense dark eyes set in honey gold skin and black hair carefully styled off of his face. You’re caught staring when his eyes snap up from the paper and back to you.

You clear your throat, gaze darting back to your brother.

“They want you to make this go away.”

You sigh.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of authority. And besides, it would attract all the wrong kinds of attention to me and -- “ you pause, choose your next words carefully, “ -- to my ties to this organization.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow bob of his head.

“Right. So we have a problem,” he admits. “Because the message we’re getting is that they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. And it’s been made quite clear to me that hurting you is not off the table.”

You take in a deep breath.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says after a short silence, motioning to the stranger at his side. You straighten when the man acknowledges you with a barely-there bow.

“I’ve assigned him to your detail.”

“Detail,” you repeat slowly. “Like a bodyguard.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Namjoon, I -- “ you look away from the man to turn your attention back to your brother, “-- I can’t have one of your guys following me around. People are going to talk.”

“Amsaja,” he sighs, “They talk anyway.”

You bristle at his use of your childhood nickname.

You know it’s meant as an endearment but it still feels infantilizing in front of his men -- one of whom hasn’t seen you in years, one of whom knows nothing about you at all. You’re a grown woman, a successful prosecutor, and more than just Kim Namjoon’s little sister.

“Joon -- “

There is annoyance behind the way you fire off his name and one of your brother’s eyebrows lifts in warning. A silent reminder that in this room, in this building, in this realm, he is the absolute authority. You swallow back the argument on the tip of your tongue.

“Namjoon,” you start again, this time with a restrained calm. “Please. Let’s have this conversation in private.”

He drums his fingers across the surface of his wooden desk before nodding his agreement and raising a hand to motion his guards out the door. You wait until both men are gone and the heavy door to Namjoon’s office clicks shut to speak again.

“You’re putting me in a terrible position here,” you exhale. “I’ve worked so hard to -- distance myself. I can’t walk around with a reminder of my family history at my heels.”

Your brother stands from his seat and walks to an ornate sideboard, pours liquor from a heavy crystal decanter into a highball glass. He takes a slow drink before speaking.

“You are worried about your image; I’m worried about your safety. Those two concerns are not equal. Not to me.”

Your face heats at the kernel of truth in your brother’s assessment.

Certainly, it’s about how it looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about the life you’ve worked so hard to build away from the drama surrounding your family name. It’s about a future that depends on the burial of your past.

Namjoon leans against his heavy wooden desk, arms crossed.

“You should know me by now,” he continues. “If I thought these were empty words, I wouldn’t have bothered you with them.”

“I know that,” you admit quietly. Doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.

“Hoseok is under orders to stay with you at all times. Obviously, he won’t be physically at your side while you’re working, but he will be close by. And he will be staying at your apartment for the time being.”

You blink. “In my apartment?”

A flash of irritation crosses your brother’s face. “Yes, in your apartment. I’m privy to information you don’t have.” He takes a long drink from the highball glass. “It’s necessary until we have this situation under control.”

“I don’t know this man,” you argue, and that eyebrow lifts again at the rising heat in your tone. “Can’t you give me Yoongi or Seokjin or someone else?”

“No.”

“Thanks for considering that, Joon.”

You don’t even bother to hide your displeasure now, climbing out of the plush chair and walking over to the massive window that makes up the back wall of your brother’s office. You look down at the street. From this height, the cars below look like toys and the people look like ants.

Namjoon joins you in front of the window, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to fight with you, I want to protect you. Jung Hoseok has worked for me three years now and he spent many more years serving in the military. He is the man I want for this assignment and I need you to trust me on that, too.”

You say nothing, staring out the window and feeling suddenly exhausted. You hate everything about today -- the letter, the case, this arrangement you now have to endure. You hate that this is the first real conversation you’ve had with your brother in months and you’re locking horns.

“Okay,” you whisper after a while, reluctant to let the tension escalate. Your brother has asked so little of you since you severed ties with the Gajog -- and effectively, with him. You swallow past the taste of guilt when you turn to look him in the eye.

“I’ll play ball, Jaegyueo.”

Your brother seems to soften when you use his childhood nickname in return, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip from the highball and looks out over the city he basically runs.

“Thank you, Amsaja.”

*************************

Hoseok

“Has she seen this?”

Hoseok stares down at the glossy photograph in his hands.

There’s little to be gleaned from the details in the picture. There are no shadows, no reflections, no personal items to give away any clues as to who took it or when.

You are asleep, one bare shoulder peeking out from underneath your plush bedding -- your hair spilling out onto your pillow. You appear blissfully unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

“Hell no,” Namjoon exhales. “And I would like to keep it that way. She’d probably never sleep again if she saw that shit.”

Hoseok hands the photograph back.

“I need the two of you to figure out who got into her apartment. And then I need you to bring him here.”

Namjoon doesn’t finish that train of thought -- he doesn’t have to. Hoseok and Yoongi hear clearly everything he hasn’t said.

“We’ll find him,” Yoongi vows, and Hoseok nods his agreement. “It’s gonna be handled.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand down his jaw, eyes still glued to the picture on his desk.

He’s an uncharacteristically even-tempered boss, particularly in this line of work. Seeing him this unnerved is unnerving to Hoseok, who’s seen him handle countless shitty situations with an unnatural calm.

“She’s my sister,” Namjoon says quietly. “I don’t expect any of you to understand our dynamic, but I need you to know that her safety is my top priority.”

“Understood,” Hoseok murmurs and in that moment, the heavy door to the office opens wide. Namjoon shoves the photograph into his desk drawer.

Hoseok studies you as you trail Namjoon’s assistant across the length of this massive office.

The first word that comes to mind is small.

You’re much smaller than Hoseok imagined you’d be, basing that assumption almost entirely on Namjoon’s tall and solid frame. Physically, you are nearly the opposite of your brother, delicate features set in smooth skin, any appearance of height owed directly to the high-heeled shoes you’ve carefully matched to your business suit.

Hoseok notes that you have the same stubborn set to your jaw, though -- a defense mechanism that slips momentarily when you lock eyes with your brother. He catches the brief flash of sadness in your face before you manage it away.

In the years he’s been with the Gajog, he’s only heard your name a handful of times -- almost always followed by hushed exchanges and pained expressions. Never once has anyone breathed your name in front of Namjoon, though. That appears to be an invisible line everyone understands not to cross.

But now you’re here, in the flesh. One piece of the puzzle revealed.

Hoseok watches your exchange with Namjoon with curiosity. It’s not the easy back-and-forth one would expect to see between a pair of siblings -- but there is an underlying affection between the two of you. A quiet respect.

Amsaja, Namjoon had called you. Lioness.

Hoseok doesn’t see a lioness when he looks at you, though.

He sees a rich girl desperate to prove how much better she is than her own flesh and blood. He sees a social climber so eager to make a name for herself in this city that she walked away from her own brother to make it happen.

This is the moment that Hoseok decides that you’re not the kind of person he could ever respect.

Because unlike you, he would never put ambition above loyalty.

Never.

**********************

tag list:

@yoongbug @brilliantlybasicb @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain@sunkissed75 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts mafia #hoseok mafia au #bts tsundere #btscreatorscorner #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv

2K notes · View notes

imonthinice · 3 years ago

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 21/?

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name

Hello! I'm back! Time for drama!

Idk if this is coming out at the right time, I deadass forgot what day it is and ughughughyh

Warnings: Swearing, Discussion of Mental Illness (undiagnosed), Injury Description, Taunting, Attempted Gaslighting, Attempted Manipulation, Kidnapping, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd (I've missed saying that<3)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21)

Jason was stumbling over his words after telling Y/N that days were blurring together. When a decently loud crash was heard from the lower level of the Wayne Manor. Jason perked up, getting up and trying to stop Y/N from following him down the stairs.

Which was too late. When they turned to go down the hallway, they were both whacked off the back of their heads. Knocking the two of them out almost instantly. Y/N took a few seconds to catch up to Jason in being out, catching a glimpse of the fight going on down the hall. She thought it was Stephanie trying her best to fight off her attacker. But soon enough her vision blurred and blacked.

She fumbled herself awake in the room. She couldn't even take away anything from the room, it was just sawing and turning colours in front of her. She didn't notice anything in the room, the lights were blinding, she didn't even know if it was lighting.

"You're awake," she said.

And then it clicked. That was Aria's voice.

----------------------------------------

Days before the kidnapping of the Waynes.

Aria sat in her office. Clutching the book her twin gave her for Christmas. It was a journal, with details talking about the schedules of the Waynes. If only Y/N had known that the journal she lovingly gave her sister would end up the way it would.

She had doodles, floor plans, schedules. Everything. She wrote it all down from extensive stalking of the Waynes. She was not going to fail at kidnapping the Waynes. She was going to do it, get the ransom from Bruce, and possibly meet heroes. She was going to fight everyone to death who tried to rescue them.

She knew the morning after a Wayne Gala that the entire family would be off-guard. She knew they owned weapons from the fact of the attacks from September. So she had to catch them fully off-guard to pull off their plan.

She looked at her mask. She knew her sister had seen the mask, the cloak. She was still considering off-handedly that she should revamp it all, make it so her sister couldn't call her out. Maybe add a voice changer? She really didn't know.

If it came down to it, if she had the time, she would do it. If not, she would just hope that her sister didn't recognise anything. Crazy? Yes, she was. The brightest lightbulb in the box? Not a chance.

She went over her plans again, adding them to the massive board she already had of the Waynes. The red lines linking all of them, the paparazzi photos. She didn't realise she was that crazy. She didn't realise that she was that much of a cliche.

She thought this was normal. She thought this obsession was okay. She looked at the photos on the wall and the red lines thinking that this was perfect.

She didn't think her sister would even be bad at her for this. She thought her sister would understand, she would get it. She would forgive her and move on. She would understand her need to get close and with the vigilantes and the heroes. She would understand the need to befriend the villains and crooks.

She would. Aria swore she would.

She heard of the Wayne Gala occurring in a few days. She would prepare her weapons when she found out. Shine her scythe. Polish her guns. Polish her daggers. Clean her cloak. Only touch her mask with gloves on. Hour barely appeared in the sight of the vigilantes. They knew she was planning something.

She hoped that fact would make them come for her further.

"Ma'am?" one of her goblins asked.

"Yes. What do you want."

"Lexcorp is hiring," they shook.

"And? Relevance."

"Alter ego, ma'am."

"Noted."

"Ma'am?"

"Get... out!" she screeched.

"Yes ma'am," they said as they hurriedly closed her door.

Yelling was normal for the army she led. She would yell at them at any moment. For no reason.

She thought this was normal, too. She didn't realise people didn't yell at each other for no reason. She was raised to be yelled at. Y/N and Aria were always yelled at.

Y/N used the yelling to turn herself for the better. She thought of it as good parenting that she wouldn't replicate, ever, but she understood it.

Aria had a god complex. She only felt like she was worth it for 30 minutes of the day. And those 30 minutes were thrown into her work as Hour. She refused to work unless she was feeling her best, but if she was planning on kidnapping the Waynes, she'd have to learn to fake it.

Fake it all, fake nothing, fake everything. She was going to do what she wanted, maybe she'd extend those few and fatal 30 minutes of power into hours, into days. She didn't want to feel like this anymore.

She thought about how she was going to kidnap her own sister, her own flesh and blood, and possibly hurt her.

She pushed those thoughts away.

She refused to acknowledge the pain she was going to cause. She hoped there was none.

Y/N would understand, right?

---------------------------------------------

Aria groaned, getting up in her childhood room, the one she shared with Y/N. She blinked and tried to cling to her sleep, but to no avail. She was visiting their parents.

She looked over to Y/N's side. Her favourite colour painted the walls she had, all the woods matched. It looked far less messy than Aria's side. She figured it was because she was mentally ill, but not Y/N. But then she thought she wasn't mentally ill, and that Y/N was. Aria couldn't be mentally ill, she was doing the right thing.

The thought still pained her. In a few days, she'd be putting out a ransom for her sister in the news. She'd be threatening her life. She'd be putting her under stress and their parents under stress. If she was caught-

No, she thought. No chance.

----------------------------------------

Present-day.

"Aria?" Y/N questioned, basically in disbelief.

"Shut up!" Aria boomed back at her, "You," she said, lifting up Y/N's head with her long claws. "You are my prized possession."

"Prized," she echoed back.

"Don't worry, love," she said. Y/N winced, she knew her sister called her that. She didn't want to think this was her sister. "You will be just fine. If your parents pay up, that is."

"My parents don't-"

"Did I say you could speak?!"

She shut up. Fuck, she thought. Fuck this. Fuck you. I know that's you, Aria. If you can hear me, I hope you rot.

She didn't even know if that was how she felt. Her brain was spinning, like someone put her on a merry-go-round and left her there, to pick up the pieces. She didn't know how to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. She didn't want this to be her sister, her flesh and blood, the person she shared a womb, a room, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles- she didn't want it to be true!

"Maybe you want to know why I'm doing this," Aria asked the air while pulling Y/N's head up again. "Well, love.

"This is what happens when you date a rich man.

"This is what happens when you flip off the press.

"This is what happens when you find yourself wrapped up in the mess known as the Justice League Association, do you know who they are?

"Of course you don't. They're Batman, The Flash, Green Arrow, Superman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, Black Canary, Aquaman and more.

"And their proteges, oh my God! Their proteges! You have Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, Batgirl, Spoiler, Orphan.

"And then Kid Flash and Impulse.

"Arrowette and Speedy.

"Superboy, Supergirl.

"Miss Martian.

"Wondergirl and Artemis.

"Aqualad.

"These people, my dear. These people are my nemeses. And I want them gone!" she maniacally laughed, "Dead! All of them!"

"You're... You're Insane!"

"So be it!" she yelled back, striking Y/N's face with her claws. The blood running down her cheek along with her tears. "If I'm insane, then at least I get paid!"

She laughed and left the room.

And there Y/N was, alone in a room where she couldn't even make out details, with blood running down her face. While she was aware that her attacker may even be her little sister. She was terrified. Petrified. Scared.

She wondered where the Waynes were, maybe they were all together? So that she could use them for ransom, maybe she couldn't use Y/N for ransom, so she was left alone in the room.

She wanted to know if they were all safe. Jason and she had only been dating for 6 months, but she did care- love- every member of the Wayne family so much. And she knew that most of the kids struggled with mental illnesses.

She knew them being alone would be detrimental to their mental health.

She also knew that she had no way, no way, of getting to any of them.

26 notes · View notes

chalkrevelations · 4 years ago

Text

SO, Episode 28 of Word of Honor was a roller-coaster ride.

(Spoilers, as ever, so scroll away and come back later if you want to see it unspoiled.)

They managed two entirely separate scenes in this one that had me going “Did … did that just happen? Is this really happening?” Let’s get this one out of the way first: The scene of Zhao Jing in his serial killer lair with the altar and memorial tablets and his serial killer trophies. Y’all. I swear, scene opens with a shot from behind of drunk Awful Yifu in his Fantasy Ancient China underwear staggering through a set of doors into a room with candles and draperies, and before I was able to register the rest of the set design, my brain gave a terrified squeak and started rabbiting around like, “Oh my god, please do not let this be Xie’er’s bedroom. Oh my god, they wouldn’t actually go there, not even hinted, surely that would be too far!” Then my eyeballs caught up and registered the set, so I thought I was safe, but that didn’t even turn out to be the moment in the scene that had me going “Is this really happening?” (Although I do think the fact my brain immediately jumped to that scenario speaks to the creepy vibe the show has managed to build between Awful Yifu and Xie Wang). So, Zhao Jing is a sloppy drunk and absolutely shitfaced, stumbling around and yelling at his dead brothers, and I’m sitting here watching him, feeling like I need a shower, with my skin a little bit trying to crawl off my body, and then he picks up Rong Xuan’s memorial tablet and pours an entire stream of alcohol out of the pitcher all over it, and I say, out loud, to the screen, “Oh my god, they just had him figuratively piss on that tablet.” Only, no, they didn’t, because there was no need to have him do it figuratively because then, he literally whips it out of his pants and takes a piss on the tablet, complete with sound effects, and I’m open-mouthed, thinking “Is this really happening?” As some background, I grew up in mainstream U.S. culture where ancestor veneration isn’t formally practiced - although it isn’t an entirely absent part of our cultural mythos, it’s just that now when I when I offer cultus to the Patres Patriae, it’s deliberate and intentional – but I’ve been doing ancestor work in my particular flavor of polytheism for long enough, and intensely enough, that I had a visceral reaction of disgust and horror to this. Hand literally clapped over my mouth in shock, even after watching all of his ranting at his dead brothers and spitting at his dead shifu and just generally being a disrespectful asshole with delusions of grandeur building up to it. So, yes, show, you have indeed convinced me that Awful Yifu is the worst, even in an episode that also devoted that much screentime to Prince Jin.

Fortunately, the other “Is this really happening?” moment was at the other end of the spectrum, somewhere in the face of how married Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing are, which I cannot believe passed censorship. I know I keep saying that, but every time I think I’ve adjusted to how far they’re going to go, the show laughs gay-ly as it pushes the envelope another mile down the road. Truly, this show is the gift that keeps on giving where these two are concerned, and not just because of Zhang Zhehan’s face. I realize I had to spend 50 episodes deciphering Lan Wangji’s smallest microexpression (not that I’m complaining), but I can’t believe how expressive both Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun are in these roles, with Gong Jun’s little sadness eyebrows when WKX wants ZZS to humor him, and how soft Zhang Zhehan’s face gets when ZZS looks at WKX, and how great they both are at making all this look like a pair of adults who are in an established relationship and confident of each other. I’d be as weak as Wen Kexing if Zhou Zishu pouted at me the way he does when he tells Chengling that he can’t do anything to help decorate the Manor except observe and direct because he’s oh, so injured and frail, poor him. Wen Kexing can laugh at Zhou Zishu when ZZS pokes at him by saying the papercrafter was such a beauty! (Compare this to his reaction back in the day, when ZZS deftly manipulated him out of bringing A-Xiang along on their honeymoon adventures by calling her a beauty and implying she might draw attention away from WKX!) Wen Kexing waves kitchen knives at Zhou Zishu in (somewhat fond) exasperation! Zhou Zishu now accepts Wen Kexing piling his plate with food at the table as perfectly normal! There’s no crying in Spring Festival! They send their kid outside to watch the fireworks so they can have sex some alone time! (Merciless killers. How the fuck so adorable?) Someone must have backed up an entire truckful of money to the house of someone very important to get this aired, because what is the heterosexual explanation for … any of this?

Other thoughts:

We continue to get small things that maintain the parallels between Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou and Gu Xiang/Cao Weining, including the mirrored theme of finding a home with a welcoming family, shown through family dinner, and expressed through WKX’s description of his former self as a “lonely ghost,” echoing A-Xiang’s self-description (to Shen Shen in an earlier ep) the same way.

HAN YING! Listen, I am stupidly attached to this bit player, and not just because he’s a familiar face (because half of Wen Xu’s screentime in The Untamed was just a disembodied head hanging at the entrance to the Unclean Realm, so it’s not like there was time to get … attached). And I say stupidly attached because ever since we first saw the way he looked at ZZS with big puppy heart-eyes, I knew he was going to be a goner. I just know they’re gonna fridge him for the next step in ZZS’s journey, because something has to pry ZZS out of Four Seasons Manor, as much as I, personally, would like nothing better than to see 8 more episodes of wedded bliss for two gay dads and their son. (OK, one thing I would like better would be if their daughter and son-in-law came to live with them, too.) At least it looks like Han Ying will get to die taking a figurative bullet for ZZS, which will make him happy and might prevent him from finding out the Glazed Armor he’s so proud of bringing is actually pointless, because don’t think that didn’t hurt to know while I watched him being so proud of managing to get his hands on it. But I’d prefer he didn’t die at all, show. Also, why on earth are there only two (completed) stories under the ZZS/Han Ying label on AO3? Because yes, I have looked. I have the search open in another tab right now. Why haven’t more people taken advantage of this guy’s utter devotion for ZZS? How are people looking at the way Han Ying reverently brushes his fingers over the single white blossom on the wall mural in ZZS’s rooms back in Prince Jin’s palace and not falling all over that?

Xie’er, oh, Xie’er. You’re killing me, here. I need someone to rescue you, you desperate affection-starved little sociopath. So, to recap, last time we met, your Awful Yifu finally let it slip that he was never ever going to acknowledge your existence in public. So now, you’re being a very clever boy, setting up a scheme to manipulate him into having to publicly acknowledge you if he’s going to claim credit for your successes (because I’m sure you can’t even contemplate failure) in service to Prince Jin. So clever, but I hate to tell you, you’re clever at everything except learning from your mistakes when it comes to your Awful Yifu. You really learned nothing from Beauty Ghost, did you? Ugh, your sad little face as you watch your hot mess of an Awful Yifu while you wait for the maids to make tea – it hurts me. Please tell me you’re playing some kind of long game, and you’re just a really great actor. Because he’s sloppy drunk, and right now, watching your face journey, I think maybe you think that makes what he’s saying true – that he’s not guarding his words, and he means it when he tells you that of course he loves you and would never leave you. “Are you still angry with me?” Awful Yifu literally asks. “Alright, I’ll apologize. I was just mad. It didn’t mean anything. We’re together in this. I’ll always stand by you.” Xie’er, you have got to stop believing gaslighting abusive men who shovel that BS. This is what they call the honeymoon period in the cycle of abuse. Seriously. This is textbook. Please stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe think about the fact that your Awful Yifu is, single-handedly, the reason the Department of the Unfaithful actually exists in the first place. He is THAT AWFUL. I would like to think actually seeing his serial killer trophy room will make a difference, now that you have some confirmation of what Tragicomic Ghost told you and not the ability to wave it off as part of some he-said, she-said situation where how could we ever possibly know the truth, despite the fact that Zhao Jing has shown he’ll stab anyone in the back in his quest for power? But, then, I also thought maybe learning last ep that he never planned to publicly acknowledge you would make some kind of difference. Are you going to roll the dice again, gambler? Because I’ll tell you right now, the house always wins. (Not that you’d listen to me anymore than you listened to Beauty Ghost.)

(Also, wait wait waitwaitwait. Waitaminit. This is pure speculation and probably way too out there to be true (oh, but, someone’s going to write this AU for me, right?) Hot-mess drunk yifu tells Xie’er that they’ve been depending on each other “ever since I picked you up and brought you back home.” I can’t remember if we know anything about Xie Wang’s background at this point, but it does sound like Zhao Jing might have literally yoinked him off the street to raise him. He … he doesn’t think Xie’er is actually Yan’er, does he? Only he kidnapped the wrong orphaned urchin by mistake? I’m just sayin’, thinking back to Shen Shen’s reaction to finding out Zhen Yan was still alive, it would be exactly the kind of thing Zhao Jing would do, to keep this kid that his brother(s) wanted to find hidden right under their noses.)

Chengling and the chicken. I can’t, y’all. And Zhou Zishu’s face as soon as he realizes what Wen Kexing is telling Chengling to do – he knows this is going to be a show.

Prince Jin, you are almost as bad as Xie’r and his awful Yifu combined:

Prince Jin: Zhou Zishu, you mastermind, your super-secret spy network continues to spread everywhere, including into my very own palace. Oh, the things you must be plotting against me!

Zhou Zishu, chillin’ at Plum Blossom Manor, day-drinking, dressing up in pretty festive robes, taking advantage of his disciple’s unpaid labor so he doesn’t have to raise a finger for himself, and providing his husband with sex so incredible he is never required to actually cook: “OK, my gay husband and our son-with-two-dads, how about we just stay here together forever and be happy?”

Also Prince Jin: *Creeps on Zhou Zishu like a gaslighting m’fker*

Anyway, if Prince Jin always knew what Han Ying was up to all along, is the letter about ZZS’s father a plant, with false info? It was just kind of suspiciously hanging out in the open on Prince Jin’s desk.

#zhao jing #xie wang #zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #cao weining #zhang chengling #han ying #prince jin #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

44 notes · View notes

theangrycomet · 4 years ago

Text

HeadCannon: Ben Tennyson and Steven Universe can’t stand one another.

Ben and Steven, while they have many things in common, would NOT get along, despite both being pretty friendly people.

This is going to be a long one folks

Methods of Addressing Problems: Combat vs Pacifisim

Ben:

Do no harm but take no s***

Fight and subdue the person causing the problem

Attempt to work out a peaceful solution

If that doesn’t work, rinse repeat until someone of authority can help or opponent gives in

He ensures that his opponent can’t cause any more harm/trouble to those around them BEFORE trying to discuss a solutions

Steven:

Sing and dance it out

Attempt peace discussions

Sing song about friendship/ the problem/potential solution or the combination thereof

If that doesn’t work,repeat

If person causing problem engages in combat, use defensive tactics and continue to attempt peace, (song is optional at this point)

Poof only if necessary

Give person time after and continue peace talks

Generally his fights are in less populated locations. Not nearly as many people are indangered when he has to fight so his surroundings are expendable.

How they Grew up and how it affects their intergalactic view

Ben has had to fight multiple sides in conflicts he didn’t fully understand. He’s had to learn that there

Multiple sides to any problem that require multiple views on how to fix things

No such thing as a simple, long term solution

Learning to delegate problems to the appropriate people and leaders

Peace Treaties are more complicated than you’d think

Society as a whole is more important, though individuals have a strong impact as to what happens to it

Steven fought the tail end in a two-sided war between a resistance group and an empire

Usually 2 sides to a problem

No war = no more political responsibility for Steven

See Steven Universe Movie and Steven Universe Future

Delegating problems to individuals to solve for themselves

Little Homeworld

Individuals are more important than society’s designated roles for them

Whose in charge in space

Ben:

There are still laws in space, and while you may not agree with them they are there for a reason

Hence Loopholes

Plumbers will attempt to do the correct thing (this is not necessarily the case, but it’s Ben’s perspective)

Steven:

Free frontier unless you’re on planet, and even then the laws will not be in your favor so you can get away with ignoring most of them

No one really enforces law off planet

It’s up to your to fix problems

Gems Cause Ben problems

This is where I dive more into head canons, but the Impact of Gems going across other planets with the Idea that they can do what ever they want is likely bigger than Steven first imagined.

Economics: With Gems going to other inhabited planet, they single handedly wreck their economies

Causes shrinking working class

They don’t buy anything, so the flow of money becomes stagnant

Only the people who don’t need to eat, drink, or seek medical help (ie the Gems) can continue to work in increasingly harsher conditions

Once they reach complete economic collapse, the Gems simply move on to the next planet

Steven refuses to address this problem, Making it Ben’s problem

Law: Gems don’t Respect planetary government authority nor plumber authority

Steven also refuses to do anything about this

Little Homeworld teaches Gems they can do anything they want after all

War: Conflicts over new territories would break out in mass.

With the mass withdrawal of colonies, thousands of fully formed, extremely technological planets are left unoccupied and unused.Hundreds of wars break out to claim these new territories

The Gempire doesn’t keep track of unoccupied colonial planets so they don’t know nor care

Every planet wants Ben to fight for them

Spends a lot of time negotiating peace treaties

Political Power

Both think the other has WAY too much political sway just because of who they are related to and the fact that they have cool alien powers that they totally abuse

Conflicting Personalities:

The boys are polar opposites in ways that would grate on the others nerves

Ben is arrogant and cocky whereas Steven is humble and modest

To Steven, Ben seems like a jerk

To Ben, Steven seems like a wimp

Defensive Mechanisms/ Dealing with Frustration:

Ben uses his arrogance and laid back manner as a mask to cover up how much heroing takes a toll on his mental, emotional, and psychological health

Resulting in Ben refusing to open up about how he feels on a deeper level, even with people he trusts

Steven’s powers and LITERAL being depend on his ability to be honest about how he feels, both to others and himself

Resulting in Steven trying to push others to discuss their problems mutually in order to find a solution

Both are REALLY bad at acknowledging when their family is hurting them, and get defensive about it

I’m not going into how Gwen and Kevin were outright s***** partners in crime fighting to Ben at times

See Steven Universe Future episode with White Diamond

Contrasting Views on Romantic Relationships

Ben’s Romantic Luck is terrible, and he knows relationships take the time he doesn’t have to give

Additionally, in the words of Rook, his intergalactic fame as a Hero precludes all of his Relationship attempts

Not only is he wary of new relationships, his is weary of them as well

Steven knows that relationships are formed on communication, love, and trust

See his Relationship with Connie

Envy

Ben, whether he’d admit it or not, would be envious that Steven doesn’t have nearly the amount of problems as he does [from Ben’s perspective, not necessarily true to fact]

No constant calls for help for things the Aliens can handle by themselves

No random attacks from people who want to prove themselves

No irritating fans prying into his life

Steven’s actually able to maintain relationships, both platonic and romantic

No public hatred

No plans to slaughter you from numerous terrorist groups

Steven would be envious that Ben doesn’t freak out over what should be traumatizing incidents, and that if Ben really anted too, could completely get rid of his powers [from Steven's perspective, not necessarily true to fact]

No break downs

No outbursts

No one misidentifying him

No cleaning up past mistakes made before you were even born

The longer they know each other, the more irritating the other would become in their eyes. Once Ben goes Ben 10k, I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a full out brawl or two.

Now, would they be able to play nice in the sandbox and play it professional? Of course.

Just... don’t leave them alone in a room unsupervised for too long.

[Though I will admit, due to Reboot!Ben having less experience (meaning less BS to put up with) and being easier going over all, I think he would be fine with Steven, until his dimension’s Alien’s got caught up in the Gempire mess and started coming to Reboot!Ben to fix it. Than he’d be annoyed.]

#Ben 10 #Ben 10 OS #Ben 10 UAF #Ben 10 Omniverse #Ben 10 Reboot #Ben Tennyson #Steven Universe #and Steven!#Character Analysis #Relationship Analysis #Headcannons #AngryComet Rambles #This applies to my AU's #Leave your opinions below

106 notes · View notes

jamaiskookie · 4 years ago

Text

Yoongi Doesn’t Romance [myg x reader]

✂︎ warnings: excessive cursing, bad writing

✂︎ word count: 6.6k (I meant to write a very short drabble… aHAHHA)

✂︎ genre: it’s.. literally just crack. Good dosing of cheesy romance and overused cliches

✂︎ A/N: it took awhile but we here!!! with a short drabble but still!!! hope you enjoy this cringey fluffy fic full of shameless jimin and shy yoongi- arguably the best yoongi

masterlist asks

✂︎ synopsis: yoongi isn’t great at expressing feelings- especially with how nervous he gets around you. alternatively titled: yoongi sucks at romance

“... and I don’t understand why you’re so hell bent on denying it! You obviously have a crush on him!” You roll your eyes at Namjoon, flicking your index finger at his forehead and watching as he flinches and lets out multiple sounds of pain, which you promptly ignored.

“I’m denying my crush because he so obviously doesn’t like me back! He hates me, Joon. He literally detests me.” You say, jumping back onto the stained and cluttered couch that occupies most of you and Namjoon’s shared dorm.

“And I’m telling you that you’re overthinking it,” Namjoon says, chewing on some popcorn. “I don’t think he hates you, you’re just exaggerating things.”

“I am not!” You protest, swinging your head around to look Namjoon dead straight in the eyes. “He hates me! He practically leaps out of the room whenever I’m around.” Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Taehyung, who is currently seated two feet away on a small thrifted chair.

“Shhhhhhhh-” His eyes are still fixated on the TV screen, watching the random nature documentary playing that you and Namjoon had long ago abandoned. You and Namjoon both watch Taehyung for a second amusedly as he attempts to stuff popcorn kernels in his mouth and completely misses the mark. You’ll have to remind him to clean up the floor later.

“But,” Namjoon whispers to you, “Literally every time you aren’t around I swear all he can do is run his mouth on and on about you.”

“Not true!” You yell, squeaking out a quick apology to Tae, who glared at you for interrupting the segment on apes. Something about how apes can learn languages, but you’re not too sure. “Lies!” You hiss, elbowing Namjoon in the rib.

“Ow-!” He jumps back, wincing. “Why do you always resort to violence?” You didn’t have an answer to that question, unfortunately. “And I’m not lying! I swear on my bonsai trees he always asks where you are whenever you don’t show up to stuff.”

“Maybe he just wants to know how much glorious time he has left before he has to face me again.” You offer, tearing open what must be your third dorito family pack of the night. (It’s fine, you’ll burn it off by running to class tomorrow when you’re inevitably late once again.) “Namjoon, face the facts: he only tolerates my presence occasionally because we share a couple of mutual friends. If it weren’t for you and the other guys, he would’ve already started a hate club for me, I’m sure of it”

Namjoon stared at you exasperatedly, before muttering something that very suspiciously sounded like ‘God you’re such a dumbass’ before taking out his phone to swipe through Tinder, not uttering another word to you.

Despite Namjoon’s utter and complete lies, you don’t exaggerate anything when it comes to Min Yoongi. Not his hatred towards you, or how he speaks two words maximum every year directed at you, or your massive slight crush that you’ve harboured for him, or how cute he looks with beanies on, or how you almost fainted that one time you saw him playing basketball, or- well, you get it.

The point is, you can’t acknowledge your crush on Yoongi (Even though everyone around you is fully aware of it) because he seems to completely resent you and your existence for no reason in particular. Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, and many others insist that he doesn’t hate you as much as you think, but you dismiss their stupid assumptions time and time again. You’d love to believe them, but the evidence and first hand experiences you’ve had says otherwise.

✂︎

Exhibit A: He seems to avoid you on campus, or anywhere you go. This one is actually quite impressive considering the classes you two share. You’ve never seen someone go so out of their way to ignore someone they don’t like. It’s pretty commemorable. Whenever you sit in the same row as him during a lecture, he’ll move seats. One time you waved at him at a coffee shop and he just strangely blushed, and bolted out of there faster than you could say ‘rejected’. Taehyung ended up saying it, all while laughing his ass off. (You made him pay for your coffee that day.) Everytime you head over to Jimin’s dorm, he’ll just blankly stare at you two and march straight towards his room and lock himself in there until you leave. He even gulpes and swerves away when he sees you in a hallway.

You know, that awkward thing when you’re heading the same direction so obviously you’d try and be slightly friendly and wave or something but then he’ll just suddenly turn around, navigating through the crowd of angry, late students and facing all that social pressure just so he doesn’t have to waVE BACK AT YOU- okay, maybe you aren’t as over this incident as you thought.

Exhibit B: He won’t speak to you or touch you or interact with you in any way. Okay, maybe ‘in any way’ is a teensy bit exaggerated, but he definitely seems to find trouble when you two are left alone for some strange reason. He seems to be fine when all your other friends are around, but he just looks so uncomfortable when it’s just you two. He won’t look you in the eye, and he’ll just mutter incomprehensible sentences under his breath.

A couple months ago you attempted to hold a decent conversation with him in the kitchen of Jin’s fancy ass apartment. After many awkward silences that you had to fill up with your timid and boring small talk, he just mumbled something and you had to watch him go into the bathroom and scream. Either he was having some really bad explosive diarrhea, or having to talk to you was just that excruciating. Apart from intense Uno game nights or when he’s under the influence of alcohol, you’ve never even heard Yoongi raise his voice!

How is it possible that just by talking to you, he feels the urge to scream? You aren’t that boring, you think-! Actually, now that you think about it, you did try and bring up sea otter fun facts as a conversation starter, so maybe that’s why he had to scream.

Personally, you think that sea otters are the most adorable creatures to ever grace the earth, but Yoongi does seem like the kind of guy to prefer bats or something like that.

Exhibit C: The elbow incident. This haunts you to this day, not just from the horrible humiliation, but if the two previous exhibit’s weren’t convincing enough, this was real cemented evidence that Min Yoongi hates your guts.

You were talking to Jimin about the significance of ‘Phineas and Ferb’ in the cinematic industry, when your dumbass had tripped and caught yourself on Min Yoongi’s fucking arm (His bicep, on a completely unrelated note, was much bigger and stronger than you had thought, which was a complete other source of anxiety.) You would much rather fall on the ground and break all your bones, because the look on Yoongi’s face as he stared down at you clutching his arm like some sort of idiot, could only be described as disgust or horrified. Maybe both. You immediately let go, of course, and blabbered out apology after apology, but all he did was just stare and blink owlishly at you.

You proceeded to blush madly and run away, hiding your face in Jimin’s chest, which was, in hindsight, not a good idea, considering how hard he was laughing at the time. (What you didn’t see was Yoongi staring from behind you, deciding to never wash the hoodie he was wearing ever again.)

So, that concludes your argument against Namjoon’s preposterous claim that ‘Yoongi doesn’t actually hate you Y/n, it’s all in your head’ Delusional, that’s what he is. How could someone like Min Yoongi, a person you have literally been drooling over for most of your academic career, a person who single handedly has every sorority girl wrapped around his finger, even tolerate your very existence, much less be attracted to you? No, none of it makes any sense. You’ll continue to hurt yourself by being around him, despite clearly knowing that he detests your presence, and will even deny the crush you’ve somehow managed to build up for him.

Because even though it hurts to see him flinch and ignore you, you truly do think that Yoongi is one of the greatest people to ever walk on this shitty earth. He’s caring, even if he does pretend to not care, he’s smart, passionate, ambitious, and you’d be absolutely lying if you said you haven’t dreamed of pinching those squishy cheeks he seems to hide away so often.

If only you knew why he hated you so much.

✂︎

All the way across campus, Yoongi was having a similar breakdown while Jimin looked on anxiously.

“God fucking dammit!” He screamed. The sound comes out slightly muffled since Jimin can only hear what he’s saying through the pillow that Yoongi currently has his face buried in. He kicks his legs up and whines, hitting the bed with his hands. Jimin is suddenly reminded of his 4 year old cousin who threw a tantrum when she didn’t get the doll she asked for.

“And then you know what I said, Chim?? Do you kNOW?” Yoongi’s been screaming for the past thirty minutes or so. Jimin’s surprised that nobody on campus has come pounding on their door telling them to shut up yet.

“Please, do enlighten me.” Jimin murmurs, picking at his nails.

“I said ‘Salutations’ AND THEN I RAN OUT THE FUCKING CLASSROOM.” Yoongi tilts his head up from the pillow and groans, scrunching his nose up at the embarrassing thought.

“At least it’s not as bad as the time you screamed in the middle of the street when she touched your shoulder… right?” Jimin offers timidly, forcing a smile on his face. An angry, sleep deprived Yoongi is already scary enough, but he’s ten times more intense when the source of anger comes from you.

Honestly, sometimes he wonders how effective it would be if he could just lock Yoongi and you in a room and force you two to admit your feelings for once. (Until he mentioned this idea to Namjoon, who dejectedly informed him that they’ve already tried that.) ((Yoongi broke out of the room using a bobby pin and sheer force of will)) He’s never even seen a pair so smart, and yet so obliviously naive. Anyone with functioning two eyes could see the horribly obvious feelings the both of you shared for each other. In fact, for the first couple months upon meeting Yoongi, he thought that you were his girlfriend, based on how much he talked about you. That assumption carried on when he met you, until Jin told him that the two of you were just in a weird phase of dumbasses who kinda flirt.

It’s not Yoongi’s fault that he’s so bad at having actual emotions that aren’t the tears of joy that he sheds whenever he gets free coffee from the barista at the local cafe, and it’s not your fault that your self esteem is too low to recognise that Yoongi basically worships you.

In theory, you two are a match made in heaven. Both just as stupid as the other.

“How do you do feelings, Jimin?” Yoongi sits up from the bed, and Jimin thinks that the tear tracks and defeated look on his face is a tad bit dramatic, but he chooses not to comment on it, for fear of his own life.

“... what?”

“You know, feelings. How do you romance?”

“... what?”

Yoongi, completely exasperated, throws his hands up in the air and turns around to face Jimin. “Everytime I try to talk to her by myself it’s like I’m a fish out of water. I get way too nervous, and then she starts talking about otters, and she’s way too pretty so I obviously start freaking out! I don’t know, you and Jungkook have been dating for a year now, right?” Jimin nods.

“How’d you do that.”

“... Are you asking me how I got a boyfriend or-? Because I assure you that 85% of getting Kookie to be my boyfriend had to do with my great ass, so I can’t really help you out there- ” Jimin laughs as he watches Yoongi squeal and cover his hands over his ears.

“Can I ask you for relationship advice without hearing about your sex life, please?” Yoongi pleads. “I know too many unnecessary things about how Jungkook is in bed.”

Jimin decides to put his friend out of his misery. He places a hand on his shoulder, and shoots him a soft smile.

“Yoongi, my young grasshopper- ” He retracts the hand when he sees the deathly stare Yoongi is looking at him with, but so far so good, “- there really isn’t much to it. Tell her you like her, and in the very, very, extremely small chance that she rejects you, so what? It’s not like you’re going to spend the rest of your life getting ov- ” Jimin’s voice falters again when Yoongi’s stare intensifies.

“You don’t get it!” He complains, throwing himself back onto the bed once again. “You’re all good at this sort of stuff!” Jimin tilts his head in confusion. “You know, relationships! Talking to people! And I’m pretty sure Y/n is the love of my life, so I’m literally going to break down if she rejects me! I’m going to cry for days, I already know it!” Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, pouting at nothing in particular.

“She’s so perfect, smart, nice, caring, funny, strong and incredible. It hurts that she’s never going to like me the way I like her.”

“You know, Yoongi, if you never talk to her, she’s never going to know you feel that way.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, while it takes all of Jimin’s strength to restrain himself from not throwing Yoongi out of the window.

Once he’s absolutely sure that Yoongi is fully asleep, he pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes. After a few quick taps, he brings his phone up to his ear.

“Guys, I can’t deal with him anymore. We have to do something.”

✂︎

“I would like to, once again, reiterate that I am 100% against this idea.”

“Shut up, Namjoon.” Namjoon grumbles something about being unappreciated, but continues to speak up.

“It’s a bad idea, Chim. Logically, there’s only a small chance this will work out in our favour, and if it doesn't, I’m at least certain that Yoongi will dislocate all of our limbs until we’re a pile of human flesh.”

Jimin dismisses the thought. “Yoongi would never do that to us.”

“Of course he would,” Taehyung piped up. “Do you remember the time he dyed my bright pink because I made fun of Y/n for her stupid heart patterned boots and she cried?” 10 pairs of eyes slowly looked up at Taehyung.

“Well, that’s justified, we all want to murder you.” Taehyung gasps at Jin, who smiles back at him in return.

“And also, you were being a huge asshole that day and you totally deserved it. The pink hair didn’t even look that bad.” Tae smiles proudly at Jimin.

“That’s true, I fucking slayed with that pink hair. I kinda miss it, actually… ” He hums thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Jimin looks away and scoffs. Taehyung’s one of his oldest friends, but sometimes he gets a little too art-kid-college-dropout-hipster for him to handle.

“Do you guys think I should dye my hair pink again?” Nobody answers his question.

“Tae might be an absolute douchebag, but he has a point. We all know how protective Yoongi is over Y/n. Are you willing to potentially risk your life if this doesn’t work out?” Curse Namjoon for being logical. Maybe Yoongi killing him is a bit of a stretch, but he would make Jimin’s life a living hell if this operation ended up a failure.

Nevertheless, he continues to insist. “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? I physically can’t stand Yoongi stomping around the dorm because he’s emotionally incapable of working out his feelings anymore! Yesterday he fell asleep in my bed. My bed, Namjoon. For such a tiny man, he’s really fucking heavy, I couldn’t move him and had to crash on the couch for the night. If this doesn’t end up working, Yoongi will just go back home and mope around all day long. Nothing different from what he’s doing now.”

“Um, what’s the worst that could happen?“ Namjoon asks incredulously. “How about if Yoongi finds out we tricked him, invites us to a murder mystery party, but then decides to kill us instead, and covers it up by burying our cold hard, deAD bodies in a highly unhygienic GRAVEYARD? What will you do if that happens, Jimin?“

“..........“

Nobody says anything to Namjoon, and the boys turn to Jimin once again. Shaking his head, and attempting to ignore... whatever the hell Namjoon just did, Jimin speaks.

“Oh come on guys!” He shakes his shoulders and lightly taps his foot against the ground. “Aren’t you guys tired of dealing with these two dumbasses too?” A murmur of agreement seems to go around the group, and Jimin breaks into a huge smile.

“Well, gee,“ Namjoon mumbles sarcastically. “Why don’t you just make a Namjoon Facebook hate group?“ Taehyung shushes him.

Beside him, Jin and Jungkook are exchanging money, clearly for some kind of bet. What the bet entails, Jimin has no idea, but he doesn’t have the time to question them right now.

“So, we’re in?” Everyone slowly begins to nod, all except Namjoon. Jimin beams, looking up expectantly at him. Namjoon bites his lip, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fine.” He grumbles out, not acknowledging Jimin’s shouts of joy. “If this goes wrong though, you bitches better be fucking responsible.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re all on board, because Hoseok is already here.” Jimin happily smiled up to find Hobi shuffling through the cafe doors, waving enthusiastically at him. He also decides to ignore the collective round of groans and ‘Jimin!’’s that went around the table.

“Why did you even ask us for our opinions if you already planned this out anyway?” Jungkook hisses, awkwardly smiling at Hoseok.

“Because you guys can never say no to me!”

“That’s only because of how fucking annoying you are, Chimmy.” Jin moves over in order to let Hoseok sit, even though he doesn’t look overjoyed at having to abandon his favourite seat.

“Well, all of you look super happy to see me.” Hobi jokes, immediately picking up Namjoon’s milkshake to take a sip.

“Sorry that you had to get dragged into all this bullshit, Hobi,” Namjoon says, pushing his milkshake towards him and sticking a second straw in the cup.

“No problem! I love pissing Yoongi off!” The group slowly stares at Hobi, who is still cheerfully sipping at Joon’s milkshake.

“Well,” Taehyung mutters. “What else do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Drowning yourself in lava?”

“Taehyung, play nice. Some people are just special. Anyways, here is the plan for Operation: Delusional Idiots Who Need To Make Out.”

“... Can’t we shorten that?”

“Yeah, seems pretty lengthy.”

“How about Operation: DIWNTMO? Like, pronounced as diwinteemo?”

“That’s… even worse, somehow.”

“Let’s just shorten it to Operation: Delusional Idiots.”

Six voices, in the middle of the busiest cafe on the school campus, suddenly shout out the words ‘Operation: Delusional Idiots!’, and a cheer goes around the table.

Onlookers wonder if they are referring to themselves.

✂︎

In hindsight, Namjoon was probably right. But Jimin can be extremely convincing sometimes, and Jin takes every opportunity to throw a party, so maybe Namjoon was fighting a lost cause in the first place.

He ponders what he wants his tombstone to say, while pacing around Jin’s apartment, where the party is already going on, full force. Maybe something like ‘Kim Namjoon (1994-2020) Murdered by Min Yoongi at a house party.’ Well, at least if he really does die tonight, it would be a good night for it.

Namjoon has many complaints about Seokjin. He could probably pull up a never ending list of the girls and guys who have come complaining to him for his friend’s mistakes, screaming about how Jin broke their heart, so and so. But, even he has to begrudgingly agree, Kim Seokjin throws one hell of a party.

It was one of those rare nights where you could actually make out the faint stars in the Seoul skyline, where the twinkling of the stars felt peaceful. Namjoon isn’t too much of a party person, but the monsters that he calls his friends go out every Friday night, pulling him along most of the time. He’s gotten used to just camping out on Jin’s fancy apartment balcony, (Seriously, what kind of college kid has a balcony?) avoiding the cheers, loud screaming and horribly unhygienic things that are happening inside.

Unfortunately, thanks to Park Jimin and his horrible ideas, Namjoon is currently wincing in the middle of a huge crowd full of sweaty bodies. He regrets not faking a fever while he could, but it was way too late now. His job tonight was to keep Y/n preoccupied.

“Remember Joonie, under no circumstances can Y/n see Yoongi before Hoseok completes the task. If she even sees a glimpse of him, she’s going to freak out and leave.”

His aforementioned target was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon is starting to worry that all their efforts will go to waste just because you decided it was another Friday to stay in bed and watch Disney movies on repea-

“wHOA!” Another sweaty hand pulls him out from the crowd, and Namjoon stumbles out, breathing heavily.

“Why aren’t you out on the balcony?”

“Why- what- oH! Y/n!”

You stare blankly at Namjoon, who is still rubbing his arm in pain.

“You came!” He says, with a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher.

“What do you mean, I came? Of course I came! It was you and Jin who insisted I come, right?” You dragged him over to the makeshift bar that Jin had set up hours ago on his kitchen island, pouring the both of you strong drinks. You’ll need it to get through the night.

“Right!” Namjoon awkwardly laughs and follows you into the kitchen, craning his neck to lock eyes with Jimin, who then gives him a thumbs up and leans over to whisper to Hoseok.

“Y/n,” He says, patting your back when you start coughing lightly from the shot you just downed. “We’re friends no matter what, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, looking around Jin’s apartment. “Wow, it’s pretty empty today. Aren’t there usually like 50 people trying to get into one of these parties?” Luckily for Namjoon, who was almost sweating and about to cry trying to come up with an excuse to satisfy you, you ignored him and continued talking.

“Whatever, it’s fine. The less, the better.” You’re still looking around the crowds when you grab a hold of Namjoon’s shoulders, turning him towards you. “Yoongi’s not here, right?”

“What? hahahHHAHAHA nO of course not!”

“Oh okay,” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “I look terrible today, I would not be able to face him.”

“You look great today! What do you mean…!” Hopefully you dismiss the bead of sweat trailing down from his temple. It is pretty hot in here.

Apparently, it took multiple threats, to Yoongi’s coffee machine and lots of bargaining from Jimin to convince him to attend the party, but it seemed to have worked, considering that Namjoon could make out the dark figure of Yoongi, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans in the corner of the room, chatting to Jungkook. His eyes, however, were riveted straight beside him, on Y/n.

“They really are idiots.” Namjoon muses to himself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung is waving his arms around trying to catch his attention. He mouths something that Namjoon can’t quite make out, so he just mouths a ‘what?’ back at him and shakes his head.

Namjoon can almost hear Taehyung sigh from across the room.

You’re still pouring your second shot, so you don’t notice as Hoseok walks slowly from the living room. Namjoon has actually never seen his friends more concentrated on anything in his life. Even Seokjin, who was, just a second ago, dancing with some guy that Namjoon isn’t even sure he knows, has now pushed the stranger away, completely fixated on Y/n, who is blissfully oblivious to the attention focused on you.

“Hey…!” Hoseok slowly slides in, real fucking smooth, if Namjoon could add, beside Y/n leaning on his forearm and smiling up towards her. Namjoon has to commend Jimin for the execution of Operation: Delusional Idiots. He’s honestly never seen Jimin put this much work into anything.

Hoseok was the only mutual friend they knew of that Yoongi was familiar with, but not Y/n. Jimin said that he had considered Jackson for a short while, before realising that Jackson can’t talk to girls for shit. At least Hoseok can force his thoughts into some semblance of order when he’s flirting.

“Oh! … Who,” You furrow your brows at Hobi, and Namjoon slowly backs away against the kitchen wall. “Are you?” Hobi laughs and spins around to face you.

“I guess you don’t know me. I’m Jung Hoseok,” He sticks his hand out and you tentatively shake it, making him grin. “I’m friends with Namjoon.” He points up at Namjoon, and Joon awkwardly smiles, waving back at the pair.

“Ohh,” You say, nodding. “Hi! Nice to meet you!” Sometimes Namjoon worries about you. You’re way too friendly and nice for your own good.

“I’m a dance major, actually. You can call me Hobi, by the way.” He smiles at you and finally lets go of your hand. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?” You shake your head, murmuring incoherently. “No, I didn’t think so. I’d remember you if we met.” You giggle and push him aside playfully, offering him a drink. Hoseok accepts it with a smile even wider than the last.

(Namjoon is now a little skeptical about Hoseok’s claims of flirting skill, but thankfully, you are, admittedly, a little stupid when it comes to this kind of stuff. You probably won’t even notice Hobi’s flirting with you at all.)

From the corner of the room, Yoongi’s deep gaze is now glaring deep into Hoseok’s back, but Hobi either seems to not notice or acknowledge it. He continues to stare at Y/n, laughing at whatever comes out of your mouth.

“You’re a dance major? That’s so cool!” You gush, and if he didn’t know you so much, Namjoon would think that you were flirting back. No, you were just that naive.

“- Thanks!” Hobi suddenly laughs at something that Namjoon didn’t manage to catch, but what he does catch is the look on Yoongi’s face when Hobi touches your forearm.

Even Jungkook, who was talking to Yoongi, gulped and took a step back. Jin gestures something to Jimin, and Jimin shoots back an enthusiastic thumbs up. He then shouts something over to Namjoon, but he can’t quite hear over the loud party noise.

Based on his own mediocre lip-reading skills, he either said ‘It’s going well’ or ‘Jungkook smells’ He’s thinking maybe it’s the first. Namjoon slides away from the kitchen to join Jin, who is happily watching all of this unfold from the sidelines.

“When do you think he’ll break?” Jin says, sipping on a bright blue drink that Namjoon doesn’t even want to know the contents of. He quickly glances over at Yoongi’s face, which is getting redder by the moment.

“Anytime now. His glass is about to explode from his grip.” Sure enough, Namjoon predicted correctly. A few moments later, Yoongi begins to stalk over to the kitchen, and Jin clinks his bright blue monstrous concoction against Namjoon’s glass. Grumbling, Jungkook also comes over and slaps a $10 dollar bill into Jin’s palm, scowling when Jin smiles and accepts it.

“Yeah, so a group of otters are actually called a romp, can you believe that- oomph!” Seemingly popping out of nowhere, Yoongi grabs a hold of your hand, glaring at Hobi.

“Yoongi!” You squeak out. Namjoon, that fucking liar! He left you all by yourself with a new friend and didn’t even bother telling you the love of your life was in the very same room? You didn’t even wash your hair yesterday night! Well, at least someone finally listened to what you have to say about otters… say, that was a bit unordinary, nobody else has ever been interested in your otter fun facts before-

Your trail of thought fades away when you look back up at Yoongi, who is still strangely looking at Hobi. “Um...” How is he holding you right now? He flinches away whenever you poke him on the shoulder, how is he holding your arm right now, completely unaffected? Oh.

Of course Yoongi wouldn’t touch you willingly. He just has to be stupidly noble and moral and save you when you’re alone with a man he isn’t familiar with. “Oh, ah… Yoongi! This is my new friend, Hobi! You have nothing to worry about, I was just talking to him about otters and- oh, nevermind. Anyways, you don’t… have… to… hold my hand anymore.” Well, at least you can save him from the embarrassment of holding your hand any longer.

“Yoongi, Yoon- Yoongi,” He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you attempt to slip yours out of his. He seems to be gripping on, for a reason you can’t seem to comprehend. All he’s doing right now is maintaining eye contact with Hobi. Instead, he just glares into his eyes, repeating your words.

“Friends. Friends?”

“Yes, friends! Oh, ah, let me introduce you, um, Hobi, this is Yoongi, and Yoongi, this is-”

“Jung Hoseok. You call him Hobi?”

“Well, yes- oh! Do you two know each other, or?”

“Of course!” Hobi says, pouring another drink out. He stretches out his arm and offers the glass to Yoongi, but all he does is stare at the glass, not moving an inch. Still smiling brightly, Hobi just brought the glass to his lips, sipping on two separate drinks at a time.

“Long time no see, man! Yoongi, how’ve you been?” Yoongi, still clutching onto your hand, stayed silent for a while, all while Hobi continued to smile.

“I’m… fine.” He eventually chokes out.

“Yoongi, are you okay? You seem really-” You’re once again interrupted when Yoongi pulls you away, stomping out the kitchen. You lean backwards, yelling out a quick apology to Hobi, but he doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.

“Yoongi, you’re being rude! I said you don’t have to worry! Hobi is a new friend I met, he’s a friend of Namjoon’s, and we were just talking about otters-”

“Why are you defending yourself?” Boy, you just keep on getting interrupted tonight.

“Wha- huh?” Yoongi finally lets your hand go when he reaches the apartment door, shutting it closed, leaving it swinging in midair, even though he regretted it immediately after. You can still faintly hear the party going on through the door, but you had no time to process the fact that Yoongi just pulled you outside the party when he spoke up again.

“I said, why are you defending yourself like that? You have no reason to. You’re acting like I just caught you cheating.” Yoongi’s voice turns faint towards the end of his sentence, and he looks down at his feet, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“I’m not defending myself! I’m just- I’m just, well, I-” You fumbled with your words, stuttering and fidgeting around with your fingers. Why were you defending yourself? It’s not like… Yeah, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything.

“You can talk about otters to whoever you want. You might want to change up your flirting tactics though, not many people can put up with your strange obsession with otters-”

“hEY!”

“- Anyways, Hoseok’s, not a bad man. He’s pretty great, actually,” Yoongi admits. “He’ll treat you well. And he seems to be super interested in you, so… ” Yoongi clears his throat. You narrow your eyes and look down at his shuffling feet. This is probably the most Yoongi has ever spoken to you, in private, anyway. Why is he so unbothered? And why does that bother you so much? He doesn’t even care a little bit? Does Hobi really seem like such a great guy?

“You don’t care?”

“No, just, you know, don’t get hurt, or whatever. I’ll have to murder him… Or something.” You let out a small laugh, but he doesn’t seem to be joking.

“So, if I go straight back in and ask Hobi out, you wouldn’t mind?” You swear that a vein pops out from Yoongi’s neck, but perhaps it was just your imagination.

“Why would I mind?” He says, through clenched teeth.

“... You’re right. Why would you be mad? You don’t care about me anyways.” Something ticks in Yoongi’s jaw.

“What do you mean I don’t care for you?” He blurts out, just as you were about to head back through the apartment door.

“Oh no, please, it doesn’t bother me as much now, trust me. It’s fine, Some people just don’t… vibe with you, I get it! You don’t like me all that much, it’s okay! It’s not like you’ve hurt me or anything! You just don’t like talking to me because I’m kind of a dumbass, that’s alright. It’s okay to keep avoiding me. And again, I’m sorry for the whole elbow thing, you didn’t talk to me for like the next two weeks, and again, I totally understand, you know?” Yoongi stares at you, blinking in realisation.

“So… you mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve thought that… I didn’t like you?”

“Well,” Now you’re blinking confusedly along with him. “Isn’t that… why you run away everytime I come over to hangout with Jimin?” Yoongi brings his hands out of his pockets and buries his face in them, groaning.

“And that’s why you don’t like talking to me, right? And that one time I spoke to you and you went into the bathroom and screamed for like five minutes? … Do you not hate me?” A look of realisation floods his eyes, and Yoongi leans against the wall, slowly sinking down to the ground until he’s practically sprawled out on the floor. Staring aimlessly, he reaches up and grabs your hand again, pulling you down to face him. You let out a small squeak, but you crouch down on your feet, awkwardly looking at your right hand that Yoongi (!!!) is currently holding for the second (!!!!) time.

“Forgive me, Y/n.” He whispers, dropping his head onto your hand.

“Forgive you? What for? Yoongi this is a little dramatic, don’t you think? This is technically a public area, um, maybe you wanna go back to your dorm? I can call Jimin out here, I’m sure he’ll leave the party early, let me just-” He pulls you back and won’t let go, even when you try to stand and leave his grip.

“Yoongi!” Like a child clutching onto his mother, he just sits there and pouts, not letting your hand go.

“I’m sorry!” He wails, lightly kicking his feet up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being my emo self and avoiding you, I’m sorry for making you think I hate you when that really isn’t the case at all, I’m sorry for being an idiot and screaming whenever you touched me, I promise that none of that was ever your fault, because you must have felt so hurt and disgusted by me-” Yoongi suddenly looks up and glares at you.

“Yah! Why didn’t you just slap me!”

“Slap… you?”

“Yes, slap some sense into me, you idiot! I was so mean to you, why didn’t you just tell me you were hurt?”

“Well,” You said, smiling nervously. “I wasn’t hurt!”

“Yes you were!” He wails again. Some sort of strangled noise comes from the back of his throat. “You must’ve been really hurt, and I’m sorry! I don’t want you to be hurt! I don’t want you to date Hobi, and I don’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and I’m fucking stupid!”

You speechlessly opened your mouth and closed it again, like a fish. Well, that was a full 180. What is he talking about? Apologising? You had dealt with the uncomfortable small talk and denying your feelings for years only to have him apologise now? You finally manage to open your mouth and firmly say something, but what comes out of your mouth is certainly not what you planned to say.

“Min Yoongi!” You yelled and watched him slightly tilt his head up. “How could you say that now!?” His head is fully up now, gazing at you slightly dazed. “How dare you mess with my feelings for the past two years, just to completely, unexpectedly, blurt all of this out outside of Seokjin’s shitty house party?” You cry, slouching down onto the ground and sitting cross legged. Your unoccupied hand reaches up to your hair, frustratingly running your hand through your messy locks.

“... If it counts for anything, I think that your obsession with otters is really cute.” You sniffle, for no particular reason, and nod.

“... Does that mean you like me then?”

“Y/n,” Yoongi sighs, taking your other hand out of your hair and placing it into his own. “Isn’t that obvious, you fucking dumbass?”

“You’re kinda giving off mixed signals here.” Yoongi squishes your cheeks together in a brave act from an unusual burst of courage that he managed to somehow build up.

“Y/n,”

“Mmph- Yesh?”

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’m sorry for being a dumbass who couldn’t ask you out, and I’m sorry I had to do this at Seokjin’s ‘shitty house party’, but I’d really like it if you would go on a date with me sometime.”

Yoongi releases your cheeks from his grip when you stay silent for a small while, red slowly creeping up from the neck up to his ears.

“I mean, you know, only if you want to, it’d be fine if all of that was just, you know… ” Yoongi mutters, gesturing around randomly.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Yoongi.”

“Oh. Cool, that’s cool. That’s… yeah that’s cool.”

“Text me the details?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, I’ll do- I’ll do that.”

You can hear a faint scream when you enter Seokjin’s apartment again, but instead of filling you with the insecure, horrible feeling like it once did, you just smile and giggle to yourself again. What you don’t seem to notice is Jimin, Jin, Joon, Tae, Jungkook and Hobi exchanging victorious glances across the room.

(About a week later, Yoongi took you to the zoo for your date. He slightly regretted that decision after you spent an hour making faces at the otters.)

224 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

bad boy good thing iii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 393

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“You’re bailing again?” Taehyung looks up from his stack of books for the first time in the last hour since the two of you have started your study date. Granted, he meant no spite but he didn’t understand what set you to flee. The name that was almost taboo to you; the name that brings more tugs to your heart that hurts than one that’s fond.

You glance up at him with meek eyes, “I have an office hour with my economics professor in half an hour.”

Taehyung purses his lips.

“This is the fourth time this week you’ve ditched.” Taehyung sounds mildly irritated and you don’t blame him. You made a promise months ago before mid-terms coming up that you’d help him with statistics. But before the two of you could ever get into the nitty-gritty details of math; somehow the forbidden name comes up.

“I know.” You say softly. “I’m sorry …” You don’t say anything else because your heart is speeding up in a way that is anxiety-inducing. Because Taehyung off-handedly mentioned that Jungkook would be dropping by in a few; and you didn’t know when he’d turn up and you rather not stick around to find out.

His words still linger in your mind and every time there was any prompt to remind you of his face, or his name—you remember the way his words sounded so assured in the context of the situation first. You remember the malevolence that lied behind his usually kind eyes. But it’s like the eyes filled with desire in a one-dimensional view of your body replaced the youthful mirth you grew up with.

“Look.” Taehyung sighs, pushing himself up to look at you with a stern stare. “If you don’t want to tutor me that’s fine. I can find another tutor. But I’d appreciate if you’d let me know beforehand so I don’t have to come all the way just for an hour then have you leave once the content begins to get tougher.”

Taehyung was by no means being rude or outwardly offensive. He was straightforward and you appreciated that he was honest with you. And rather, you feel guilty of the fact that you bailed for your own selfish reasons.

“I do want to tutor you.” You tell him, fiddling with your fingers as your eyes dart to the doors of the library. “It really just slipped my mind.”

It sounds lame, even to you; and Taehyung picks up on it too.

“You don’t forget things like this.” He says pointedly. “It’s like every time I mention—”

Taehyung stops himself and your eyes dart away, hands already tugging your bag over your shoulder. Maybe if you sped up, he wouldn’t stare at you with an inquisitive stare that looked similar to one of realisation.

“Did something happen between you and Kook?”

You wince. Taehyung is observant.

“Are the two of you—?”

“I’m fine.” You snap, tone defensive and on edge when you hear the bell of the library door ring. You don’t dare to turn to look. “We’re fine.”

“_____ …” Taehyung frowns.

“I gotta go. Okay?” You huff, offering one last apologetic look before you turn to leave. But in your haste, you bump into a solid figure and you’re terrified that it’s—

“Careful.” A deeper, unfamiliar but welcomed voice murmurs.

When your eyes look up, it’s just someone you recognise from Jungkook’s football games. You were sure he was a key player too. His stature was definitely one of an athlete. He was tall, broad, and firm; and the black shirt that hugged his chest only emphasised your guess.

“S-Sorry.” You squeak, looking down.

You brush past him before he can get another word in, and only when you slip past him do you see Jungkook lingering behind with a frown on his face.

“______—” He calls.

You’re able to leave before he can get a hold of you; and that only causes the frown on Jungkook’s face to harden.

When the door rings once more to signal your departure, Jungkook is already sat with Taehyung and the other person that bumped into you.

“What’s up with the two of you?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook stiffens and responds with a grit of his teeth. “Nothing.”

Taehyung doesn’t look convinced and Namjoon—though recently enlightened with the fact that there was potentially something brewing between the two of you—was also observant enough to pick up on the tense atmosphere that you left with.

“Aren’t the two of you super close?” Namjoon says offhandedly, already shifting through his assignments while he lays them out.

Jungkook wants to let out a dry scoff at the assumption. Sure, the two of you were close. He isn’t so sure about that anymore.

“You’re clearly lying to me.” Taehyung snorts. “So whatever it is the two of you are keeping a secret please just sort it out because I need _____ here to tutor me and you’re getting in the way of my education.”

Taehyung mostly says this as a joke, but it strikes Jungkook straight where it’s vulnerable. He wasn’t going to be the first to break, nor will he indulge Taehyung into what he said to you in the same library they were in at this very moment.

So instead, Jungkook brushes it off like he’s been doing so more recently than ever.

“Whatever.” He mutters.

For some reason, you see Jungkook again on the same day—accompanied by the same person that you bumped into.

You realise that you’ve spent more time avoiding him than dealing with your feelings after what transpired. But you’re weak and you suppose you’ve always been weak when it came to Jungkook.

It was difficult … to say the least. Because while Jungkook’s words were malicious and filled with the intent to hurt and break you; the better (and foolish) part of you wanted to believe that he was angry. Driven by emotions that he wasn’t thinking straight. But while you were naive, you were also substantially aware that there had to be some form of truth to the words he’s thrown at you.

But this was the same Jungkook that you grew up with, the young boy you’ve somehow seen transition from awkward and endearing teen to … to the confident and assured man he was. You didn’t want to make any excuses for him but you’ve always been soft. And you hated that your eyes somehow still linger on his approaching figure when the rational side of your brain tells you to run away.

However, it’s not him who greets you. It’s his friend. The one you vaguely recognise but can’t quite put a name to a face.

“Hey!” He calls out to you.

His smile is easy with a dimple appearing on his cheeks. He looks kind and soft for someone that was easily a head taller than you were, and despite his height—there was something oddly comforting about the way he approaches you as if he knows you.

You try to ignore the coldness from Jungkook’s end and remind yourself that you should’ve felt angry—not the other way around.

“Hi?” You say, or more appropriately ask.

Jungkook’s expression is still blank; every time your eyes briefly linger on his face you wonder how it’d ended up this way.

“_____, right? I’ve seen you at a few of our games.” His friend enters a conversation so seamlessly. “Kook’s never introduced us, though.”

You clear your throat and you hope your face isn’t a dead giveaway of your discomfort. Especially when you blatantly ignore Jungkook’s piercing stare on the side of your temple.

“I don’t … mingle around that much.” You say softly,

And it’s parallel to the image that Jungkook has of you. The quiet, timid girl that’s free time is consumed with books and assignments than a social life to make up for it. You used to think that maybe you weren’t the type that enjoyed large or loud gatherings. But Jungkook’s voice only makes you wonder if you were the problem instead.

“Well, I’m Namjoon.” He smiles at you, offering a grin filled with teeth that you find yourself unconsciously returning, albeit awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you … uh … Namjoon.” You mumble, and your eyes nearly land on Jungkook’s face out of pure habit, but you stop yourself before you hurt yourself even more.

“It’s nice to formally meet you too. I’ve been asking Jungkook to introduce the two of us since forever ago but he seemed dead set on keeping you to himself.” Namjoon jokes lightly. And you almost miss it, but you swear Jungkook stiffens by his side.

“Ah …” You reply lamely, fingering your strap as you shift on your heels.

It feels awkward to not acknowledge Jungkook; you’re wondering if Namjoon picks up on the cold air between the both of you. Namjoon looks like he’s thinking of something, but before he can say anything—Jungkook is tugging his arm roughly.

“We have practice.” Jungkook grits, finally making himself known.

Your eyes dart to your feet, and you hate how small you feel in his presence. It should’ve been easy but this was the hardest part of it all. Pretending like you were objectively okay when his words constantly lingered at the back of your mind.

“Go ahead without me. I want to ask _____ something.” Namjoon shrugs Jungkook’s hand off of him. And this time you catch the venomous glare that he shoots his friend, accompanied by the clench of his jaw.

“Coach will—”

“I’m the captain, remember?” Namjoon snorts, but it’s not condescending. Just a reminder.

Jungkook purses his lips and his eyes dart between the two of you; and you know him well enough to know that there’s something on his mind, especially with the way he nibbles on his bottom lip.

“Don’t be late.” Jungkook grits, stomping off in the other direction without even sparing you a glance.

You frown at him because he was the one that came to you that day unwarranted; treating you like absolutely nothing as if there weren’t years of history behind the two of you.

But Namjoon is large enough to distract you because he quite literally blocks the view of Jungkook’s disappearing body with his own when he stands right in front of you.

“Sorry about that.” Namjoon looks sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind …” He trails off as he scratches the back of his neck.

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, “N-No! It’s fine. Just … uh … what’s up?” You wince inwardly at your horrible social skills and you have a slight understanding of why Jungkook pointed out the things he did. Maybe he was right—

“I—well …” Namjoon mumbles, and he seems less assured than he was earlier. “I think—you’re really—cool?—and smart—you seem nice so … sorry! God.” He rambles as he brushes his hands over his face.

You blink at him.

Namjoon takes your reaction as a bad one as he winces, chuckling lowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m not this … awkward.” He tells you.

You nod your head slowly trying to process his words. And you feel a little guilty knowing that your lack of response probably pushes Namjoon further into his shell. But he has a glare in his eye that shows that he won’t be affected so easily.

“Well.” He clears his throat. “I follow your podcast. And I think it’s really great. You offer some really interesting perspectives on the War on Drugs—or as you mentioned—the disproportionate effects of racial tension that lead to unjustified or mass incarceration rates in the U.S.”

Somehow you know you’ve said the exact same words in the monthly podcast you do with the International Relations department for extra credit. But when Namjoon speaks, it’s as if he’s carefully picking apart the context and nuance of your words so carefully before he quotes it back to you; as if he treats your opinion with heavy regard and not one of the light matters.

You feel flattered.

“Oh.” You blink. “Thank you?”

Namjoon offers you an easy grin. And you recall: captain of the football team, he says? He doesn’t really … fit the stereotype. Besides the fact that he looked insanely fit. He was gentle, that much you could tell. But you also were a little biased when it came to footballers because you only had Jungkook to compare him with.

“Sorry for just springing that on you.” He apologises sheepishly and you’re even more confused as to why he feels the need to say sorry. “It’s just that Kook was always so bitchy about introducing me to you whenever I asked so … I thought why not take the chance myself?”

You gape at him. You don’t know what to do with the set of new information you’re presented with. Firstly, the fact that someone like Namjoon paid attention to a nobody like you? And secondly, the weird revelation that Jungkook somehow gate kept his friendship … or whatever the fuck it was … with you.

“No, no.” You shake your head, “I’m really flattered. Thank you. No one’s ever … told me that before.” You give him a gentle smile because that’s all you can muster.

Namjoon returns it tenfold as he hikes his bag across his shoulder.

“Well, I gotta go now. Practice calls.” He jokes, waving at you. For a moment, he stills; as if remembering something before he fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket and shoves it to you in a haste.

“What is—?”

“My number. You know—if you ever want to talk. About … stuff. I think you’re super smart—and intelligent. They’re synonymous but yeah. If you want.” He rambles.

You blink up at him and before you can muster a response, he’s darting away.

You watch his figure retreat and notice that Jungkook is waiting for him a good distance away. But his eyes aren’t on Namjoon’s somewhat giddy figure—but on you.

He stares at you long and hard, and you feel conflicted. The paper in your hand nearly chafes, but the feeling is easily forgotten when his expression hardens.

When Namjoon reaches him with a clasp to his back, the pair walks off. Not before he gives you one passing glance over his shoulder that leaves you feeling more restless than ever.

560 notes · View notes

deerth · 3 years ago

Text

my first mistake in witchcraft

yes i’m going to be petty over religion for a second here.

i have been slowly inching out of the broom closet as i now consciously move on from the atheist mindset to the pagan one. i was looking for more resources to research my path, and i ended up on a witchy server... woe unto me as i try to fit in once more, for it seems that not even witches are unified.

forget about all that shit about garden, cosmos and whatever witches. the religion actually broadly branches into two practices - Wicca and regular witchcraft. so you are primarily the one or the other, no matter what flavour of ritual you practice.

the primary difference between Wiccans and general witchcraft is your belief of whether religion can be used for harm or not. in short, Wiccans state “an it harm none, do as ye will” (as long as you don’t hurt anyone [including yourself], go bonkers), therefore you will not find Wiccans casting curses or hexes. we know the responsibility of our faith and we know that if you radiate bad vibes, it will come right back around to bite you in the ass later. that said, most Wiccans don’t mind witches who do curse or hex. some cultures use practices like voodoo, and even old eastern European practices were not free of rituals that were made to directly interfere with someone’s will (love spells that were supposed to make someone love you). therefore, a disclaimer: I’m not anti-hex. I would not use a hex because I feel that hate will not solve hate, and as long as you’re an adult, I trust you know what you’re doing with your power. maybe you are of an oppressed culture and have good reason to exact revenge on someone who severely hurt you, especially if you have a long-standing tradition of hexes. even Nina Simone sang “I Put a Spell on You” (albeit this is also a love spell). I know curses and hexes and even spells affecting with another’s free will are an inherent part of witchcraft and I won’t deny it. I follow my doctrine, you follow yours, that is fine by me.

what is NOT fine with me, however, is propagating hex culture among minors. why? because minors are not ready to take on that responsibility!!!! just like they are not truly ready to make healthy decisions about sex, alcohol or other substances, they cannot take true responsibility over causing harm, be it spiritual or otherwise. “what’s a little hex do?” you might ask, if you’re a minor. not to sound like a boomer, but when I was 16, I was edgy as fuck. I hated everyone while claiming to love everyone. I was in NO correct mental state to make decisions about the aforementioned things. even without casting any hexes, I made many mistakes. big ones. I hurt a lot of people. yes, I regret it all deeply. I wish I had thought things over rather than stay stubborn. in fact, most people under 20 are not ready to enter discourse, drama or a vicious cycle of hatred purely because it will always turn into “all bite but no bark”. I purposefully say it that way because although youngsters are admirably spirited and ready to take on the world... they often bite off more than they can chew. I see girlies straight out of high school trying to solve huge problems like racism, and although, again, admiring these young people, they have researched their stuff. to an extent, they know what they’re talking about... but I do believe hate will not solve hate.

one of the moderators of said server retaliated with it not being a universal truth, and claimed my take to be “unverified personal gnosis” (what is a verified gnosis, anyway? how do you measure it? especially in a practice like witchcraft where every bloody individual practises it differently and there are no priests or churches?). if the moderator happens to read this and wishes to elaborate, i’d be welcome for a bit of constructive discussion over what is and isn’t personal gnosis. I acknowledge that “hate cannot be fought with hate” is not a universal truth... that is perhaps where I went to the extreme. but believe me, I did not say it to be holier-than-thou. I was actually shocked to be called out by not one, but two moderators on my behaviour, instantly. I did not read in the rules that one would be forbidden to state their opinion or softly disagree, but perhaps it is so and I did not pay enough attention.

there comes another food for thought: is it possible to socialise without being opinionated in any way? would shutting down opinions truly prevent conflict? because I’m feeling very bitter and left out now. I know everyone on that server is not Wiccan. but to get slapped in the face right after I attempted to be friendly (laconic and feeble as that was), among who I considered to be my own people... I feel conflicted. now mind, I’m not going to leave witchcraft behind. it is my religion, and thanks to this experience, I learned that Wicca is the right thing for me. I don’t want to advocate for violence and a vicious cycle of hatred. my grandfather was Romani, therefore I believe I know a thing or two about mislabeling and hate enacted upon minorities and outcast people. does that mean I want to kill and hex every white in sight? the answer is no. if anything, me being both Wiccan and Romani, it would just add fuel to the fire. especially because Romani are stereotyped as evil witches in the first place, so it would be a double suicide. by propagating violence, I would give these people more reason to hate pagans and Romani people. both cultures are already feared and hated upon as it is. I am not going to give people more opportunity to hate me.

coming back to the minor I disagreed with in the server. I was shocked that the first thing that came to a teenager’s mind was a revenge hex. it screams of naiveté and irresponsible behaviour towards your faith. and not JUST your faith. as I am a student of psychology, I am well aware how mind patterns work, and here’s the funny thing: psychology has proven that witchcraft’s law of returns is somewhat true, not on a magickal level, but on a mental one. if you ponder over violence and revenge excessively, you are reinforcing those neural pathways in your brain. there is a reason why they say “hate breeds hate”. it is the same reason why depression is so hard to deal with. anything you obsessively ruminate over reinforces it again and again until escape seems impossible. I’m not only speaking as a witch, I’m speaking as a human being. is it correct to propagate petty violence among minors when we as adults can do better and guide young people to better paths?

I’m not saying young people shouldn’t use hexes. but I am questioning their ability to take on the responsibility of potentially hurting someone, or even just thinking of hurting someone. you plant a seed of hate and it may just grow. you knock on the devil’s door enough times and he will answer (disclaimer: I’m not Christian either, I just like the saying). soon there shall be nothing left but hate. if the person in question had not been a minor, I would have left it at that. but religion is sacred. a witch’s magick is essentially making something important to you sacred. it’s not a plaything. it’s not to be used light-handedly. it’s not a trend. and hexes should be the last resort if all else fails OR the person you hate has a damn good reason for being hated.

is it wrong to vote for love and peace? yeah, I sound like a hippie, but I think they’re right. love was not born from continuing to fight each other - love was born from unity, from coexisting. how does one fight racism? psychology says see more poc, interact with them, understand their struggles. how to fight religious fear? spend time with people of different views. how to get over homophobia? spend time with the gays and try to understand their views, and like, actually understand them. spending time with someone just to berate them is still bigotry. the interaction I mean here is coexisting with minorities in a shared space and them slowly, but surely becoming more accepted and normalised because we finally see them. even a bigot can’t stay a bigot if they are brought out of isolation. if they’re forced to see people different than them.

unfortunately, not even your own faith can comfort you sometimes, mostly because the community is still divided. there are rules on what should and shouldn’t be done, and woe upon thee if you dare to even peep one of your thoughts. I merely said thank you and sorry and left, as I always do when I feel misunderstood. it was a valuable yet harsh lesson, and I regret hoping for acceptance or even offering me a moment to be understood without being shut down without a second thought. I regret hoping for a little discussion where it is seen as a violation of rules.

again, as long as you are ready to bear the responsibility of harming another, do whatever you want. as a Wicca, I prefer staying benevolent and kind, even to those who traumatised me. you might argue that this essay in itself is not benevolent... after all, Wiccans don’t slander people behind their backs, you might say. but it is not my intent to slander. it is just me expressing sheer confusion over what I expected to be a community to hear out all voices, because why have a community at all if you allow for no discussion? do we shut off discussions entirely in fear of fights? but alas, it is human nature to be opposed, but it’s also human nature to still hold hands despite the differences - one just needs to acknowledge it.

blessed be.

#own post #witchblr #witchy #wicca #laconic and gross oversimplifications to this post will not be accepted.#i am naive in my own way for believing people want to be kind #but i do believe that there can be love and peace on the planet earth. as a survivor of hate #i know it.

10 notes · View notes

loruleanheart · 4 years ago

Text

Desired Fate, Chapter 14

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

Zelda and the others were transfixed as they looked up at the spirit of Calamity Ganon writhing around the castle. The anguish of all Hyrule hung stagnant in the air along with the ambient gurgling sound of malice.

"It's here…" Impa was the first one who managed to speak. "The Calamity has already begun…" She said, at a loss.

"No, No…." Zelda gasped when she noticed malice enter one of the nearby Guardians and became animate. It made a horrible mechanical sound as it turned its 'eye' towards the princess, a red laser appearing on Zelda's chest. Link immediately sprang into action, deflecting the Guardian's blast back at it in a brilliant flash of light.

"Calamity Ganon is taking control of the Guardians!" Zelda lamented. "It's going to turn them all against us!"

"It can do that?" Said Revali in surprise, realization starting to dawn on the Rito champion, as well as the three others. The Calamity was far more cunning than any of them had imagined.

"There are still more on the castle grounds. It's too dangerous. Everyone, protect the princess as we make our retreat!" Impa called.

"But…"

With that, Link grabbed Zelda's hand, pulling her roughly behind him as he ran down the brick path away from the Castle, which didn't go unnoticed by Astor, feeling an intense wave of sullenness he couldn't shake. They disappeared down the path and the Champions and Sheikah aide followed, no one paying him any mind in the frenzy the Calamity had created.

Astor remained, feeling out of sorts and alone, but determined to fully embrace his new destiny. Hyrule really was on its knees… Especially Zelda, who was being crushed under the weight of her duty. How had he ever been so blinded by Calamity Ganon to want this? To want to harm her? He had almost killed her for the sake of Calamity Ganon… HER! He was barely aware that his fists were clenched, wanting to make her his and spare her all this pain and suffering. The back of his neck was becoming sore as he glared up at the beast he'd once dedicated his life to serving. Calamity Ganon opened its maw to a right angle, and a thunderous roar of rage issued forth as if demanding the prophet make a blood sacrifice of himself to atone for his disloyalty.

Astor smiled up at the beast spitefully.

I wasted so many years of my life on you…. But serving you led me to her… I must thank you… I'm going to live on and create a legacy for myself, and you… You're going to be sealed away… Forever perhaps.

Astor's smile faded as he noticed King Rhoam emerge from the castle's sanctum.

"You're coming with me…" Rhoam said in a stern, matter-of-fact way., The King wielded a huge claymore single-handedly, flanked by three knight attendants.

Astor scowled at the older man, raising his hand to summon his orb, but then thought better of it, giving only a huff of defiance.

"I'm glad I have your cooperation, Astor," Rhoam said, coming close as he brandished his claymore in a vaguely threatening way. The sword was almost as big as he was.

Confident that Astor would not run or fight back, Rhoam nodded to his attendants. "Alright men, retreat!"

"Yes, Sire!" The three knight attendants said in unison. They were looking around wildly, in horror at the destruction the Guardians were bringing and a bit miffed that their king had apparently decided to take a prisoner at the worst time possible.

The five quickly, but carefully made their way down the path, Rhoam staggering a Guardian that blocked their path with a single swing of his sword. Astor could almost feel the brunt of that swing.

"Astor, I'm afraid we're going to get to know each other whether you like it or not. Had the Calamity not happened when it did, you would be in lockup now. However, since my castle is currently overrun with Guardians and all manner of Ganon's monsters, I will be keeping an eye on you myself. Suffice to say, I am not in a good mood."

Astor kept his gaze forward as they moved forward. The king's tone did not bode well for him. It wasn't lost on him that he was in a precarious situation. Still, this could be amusing.

"I know I'd rather not," King Rhoam continued, "but given that I fear you are encroaching on my daughter's divine duties, I must go above and beyond to perform mine as her father and as king." Rhoam noticed Astor's attention was elsewhere. "Look at your king when he's talking to you, you piece of filth!" Rhoam raised his voice, finding the younger man infuriating, despite knowing so little about him. The prophet had already left the worst impression on him, not that he stood a chance in hell of making a good first impression all things considered. Why would Zelda consort with this man, let alone trust him? He was scrawny, deathly pale, and dressed in rags. Everything about Astor was… off-putting. How had he and Zelda even met? Was the young knight he'd appointed to Zelda slacking off?

Astor turned his attention to the older man slowly, giving him a look of intense spite. He then saw the king's eyes widen, looking at something beyond him. Astor turned to come face to face with a Guardian's laser trained on him.

Rhoam and his men stood back, apparently obliging the Guardian to make short work of Astor.

The Guardian's laser rested on Astor for a moment, moving over the malice eye on his circlet before fading and readjusting to focus on the king.

Rhoam wasted no time in raising his claymore and bringing it down on the Guardian, giving a grunt of effort. Bolts and gears flew out of the busted machine, littering the brick pathway.

"Why did the Guardian disregard you?" Rhoam mused aloud. "How disappointing..."

"Thank you for looking out for me, Rhoam. Such a caring king and father, too… You're going to make a fine grandfather someday..." Astor said darkly, facetiously.

"How dare you!" Rhoam bellowed, giving the young man a ruthless slap across the face, causing Astor to stagger and fall. Astor simply returned a perverse smile despite the stinging sensation on his cheek. Astor began to laugh, chuckling at first and then breaking into an intense round of laughter, his yellow eyes going wide in a way that unsettled the old king - as if seeing beyond. "Yes, my children. Go harass King Rhoam and do not disappoint me!"

Rhoam was fuming. Astor was either very insane or intentionally provoking him, perhaps both. Either that or he had injured the prophet's mind when he struck him. Astor's antics were making it very difficult for the king to maintain his composure.

"You're very fortunate I am not a crass man, or I'd tell you what I think you deserve… Now tell me, how well do you know my daughter?"

"Well enough to know she is terribly lonely." Astor replied. "She despises you."

"What nonsense… Everything I've done has been for her! She was supposed to be Hyrule's pride, but it seems that the gossipmongers' words are coming true... Look around you. Hyrule is on fire. What sort of future does she have? 'Heir to a throne of nothing' if she does not awaken that power very soon. I can tell you're a lousy prophet by that alone."

"Bold words from a king who does not carry the blood of the Goddess."

"I may not carry the blood of the goddess, but I am still the rightful king of Hyrule in my late queen's stead. I was born into a noble family and my union with her was arranged by the former king and queen. The only thing I'm going to be arranging for you is an execution. Know your place, Prophet."

"An execution?" Astor almost laughed. He couldn't imagine what Rhoam's reaction might be when he learned he had formerly been trying to bring about Calamity Ganon's revival. "On what grounds?"

"Interfering with the Princess awakening her power to seal Calamity Ganon away for one. Also because it would bring me personal satisfaction. Now, get up, before I change my mind and grind my boot into your head. You're slowing down our escape."

Slowly Astor got up, dusting himself off, raising his chin to the older man in a testing manner.

"Wipe that smirk off your face. Move!" Rhoam said, giving Astor a shove with the side of his claymore.

oOo

Zelda looked back over her shoulder, her hair whipping in the wind as she ran. "Wait… Where are Astor and my father? We can't leave them behind…!"

Nobody seemed to acknowledge her question or nobody heard.

They ran through the chaotic town streets, witnessing horrifying scenes as the Guardians wrought havoc upon Hyrule's capital. Guardians were climbing the walls of houses and shops alike, some not being able to bear the weight of the mechanical wonders and the rooftops beginning to crumble.

They finally reached the main gate, crossing the threshold into Hyrule Field, as the Guardians had completely overtaken the castle and even the surrounding town. They stopped to look back, now a safe distance away. Zelda's eyes widened in horror when she realized more Guardians were appearing, being methodically ejected from the five columns that had suddenly risen out of the ground to surround Hyrule Castle. The same columns she had tried so hard to locate just days ago.

"Where did he go…?" Zelda said out of breath and sick at heart, but trying not to break down again. Hadn't she already cried all the tears she thought she had at the realization of her failure? She knew the Calamity was eventual, but experiencing it was beyond her worst nightmares.

"Little bird… How do you know he wasn't the one to summon the Calamity himself just by being present?" Said Urbosa.

"T-that can't be… " Zelda said, exasperated, not even willing to entertain the idea.

"His Majesty is missing as well… Did he remain behind on purpose?" Impa mused.

"The two are probably still bickering for all we know…" Revali quipped. "Hylian males…"

It would have been a humorous mental image in any other circumstances: Astor and her father too entrenched in their argument to notice as Guardians flooded into the Sanctum, but Zelda was vaguely aware that Astor had at least left the sanctum when the Calamity appeared.

Zelda turned her gaze elsewhere. Watching Castle Town burn was too much to bear. She happened to catch Link's eye, the boy wearing a severe expression.

You're fated to unlock your power because of him.

Zelda looked away from him and then at the back of her hand, giving an inaudible sigh, doubts about so many things clouding her mind.

This didn't go unnoticed by Urbosa, who came to stand behind Zelda, placing her hands on the princess's shoulders. "Don't give up! It's not too late."

"I know… We can't let the Calamity win. No matter what…" Zelda said, sounding downtrodden, but resolute.

"All is not lost. As long as I live I will fight. Just as you must." Impa reassured Zelda.

All the champions agreed one by one.

The group lifted their heads when they sensed others making their escape into Hyrule Field and out of Castle Town. Zelda's breath caught in her throat when she saw Astor standing in the shadow of her father's sword. He was unbound, yet it was clear from their expressions that he wasn't standing there on his own volition. Astor held her briefly in his gaze and then looked away, in shame. His face was more bruised than before.

"Champions, go to your Divine Beasts!" King Rhoam called in an official tone. "Astor will be coming with me, lest he interfere any further. Link… You are the knight to Princess Zelda. I trust you understand your duty." Rhoam said, shooting a disapproving look at Zelda.

There was a flicker in Zelda's eyes as they began to sting. "Where are you taking him?!"

Suddenly their hands held her back before she could rush forward. Zelda cried out for Astor as Rhoam and his attendants turned to leave, giving Astor another shove in the direction they were going.

A million horrible possibilities rushed through her mind. She was under no delusion that her father would deal with Astor kindly, especially if he were to ascertain Astor's former ties to the Calamity.

"What are they going to do to him?! Please, Someone, do something... Don't let them take him away!" Zelda implored pitifully, despairing because she knew none of them were going to defy her Father. Zelda dropped her head. "He's all… He's all I have…"

It was very soft, but everyone heard. Her pleas sounded all too familiar.. Rhoam halted, just for a moment to look back in irritation instead of pity as he had when she was young.

"Dammit, Zelda, show some self-control!" Rhoam said, angrily. "Your whining didn't work back then, what makes you think it will work now?"

Zelda looked hurt by his response, her shoulders shaking. Rhoam wondered if she remembered when he had confiscated the little Guardian she had named Terrako in a bid to get her to focus on her training. A decision that regrettably hadn't borne any fruit. Rhoam had almost cursed the late queen. Damn her for instilling such a love for Sheikah technology and relics in her daughter, which only proved to be a distraction for Zelda in awakening her divine power. That had been the most grievous flaw Rhoam saw in his wife.

Astor knew this was his moment to act. While the king was distracted, Astor phased past Rhoam like a restless spirit, knocking Rhoam off balance for a moment.

Zelda looked up and exhaled in surprise.

Astor came to a stop in front of Zelda, making a show of pulling her close. She clutched tightly to his robes, and for a moment everything else ceased. She was his and he was hers. She would have given much to live in that moment forever, relieved tears cascading down her cheeks.

"Her Highness is mine now. Have fun fighting the Calamity, Rhoam. You don't deserve her."

"Hylia on her throne! Stop him!" Rhoam ordered his knight attendants.

The men hesitated, fearful of the prophet's magical abilities. And in the blink of an eye, Astor raised his orb high, vanishing with Zelda in tow. Those that remained looked on in silent disbelief.

A short distance away, the scene was reflected in the 'eye' of Harbinger Ganon. Ganon knew it was winning, though that did not satisfy the being's intense all-encompassing rage. Its plans had still been disrupted. The weak-minded, disaffected Hylian man it had chosen to do its bidding in this age had somehow seen beyond the illusion of importance and power it had engineered for him. High above, the spirit of Calamity Ganon gave a shattering roar of detest for the goddess it knew was at work. And because of that vile goddess, the foolish bag of flesh was stepping out on him, even after all the power it had bestowed upon him. Ganon would simply take the man's ability to wield malice away. It would make sure the seer suffered tenfold for betraying him and choosing the girl who bore the goddess's blood. That pathetic mortal was supposed to remain loyal until his dying breath at its hand, for Ganon hated all life and showed no partiality even towards those who swore allegiance to it. It had been over ten millennia since Ganon had been mortal, and any memory of its past humanity or semblance of understanding human emotions had long perished. Calamity Ganon's inhuman hatred burned against the Hylian seer, rivaling its hatred for the hero and the young woman who bore the blood of the goddess. And so, the corrupted Guardian began to plot.

#Age of Calamity #Astor #Zelast #fanfiction #Feeling good about this chapter #so decided to go ahead and post

18 notes · View notes

stellar-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝hey, Mr. Villain.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku (Villain) ]

「Scenario of Villain Deku with reader who's an information broker. The two met one another in a bar and has a really interesting relationship with one another. The reader sells information to both heroes and villains, completely disregarding their status.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU (VILLAIN)

Sometimes, you weren't sure which side you were on. Was it on the good side or the bad side? But all you knew that things like these were fun. Surely, this line of work isn't something your parents would be proud of. Then again, you could no longer remember their faces after being abandoned by them and sent to an orphanage. You were what people would call an information broker. Selling information was very fun. Not only you could name any price you wanted but you could witness the chaos and conflict that erupts. There were heroes and villains who knew of you but you were always equal to your clients, no matter what side they belong to.

The only reason you were only able to run free was thanks to the heroes and villains who kept your existence a secret from one another. One of your favorite places to trade information was a small bar in the back alley and it was known to very few people. You have befriended the bartender who happened to be the owner. He was a man no older than 40, someone very knowledgable about alcohol. You find yourself sitting by the bar, shrugging off your vest, and stretching your arms. The bar was empty, the seats were unoccupied. The bartender quickly acknowledged your presence and smiled at you.

"Good evening, [Last Name]-san. A long day at work, I suppose?" the man began to prepare your drink while you made yourself comfortable. There was gentle music playing in the background, one that soothed your nerves. A soft sigh left your lips as you rested your elbows onto the table, supporting your head with your left hand.

"You know it. Anyway, you have to hear this, barkeep. There was a car crash today. I was trading information with a mafioso and apparently the information he just traded with me was top secret. Later that day, it's reported that he's hospitalized from the car crash." you said while the bartender gently placed a coaster and a glass filled with some liquid over it.

"Then I was almost killed because my client slipped out the fact that he had passed on the information before being taken away. Well, I managed to escape."

You grabbed hold of the glass and swirled in the contents as the ice clinked against the walls of the cup. A river of clear-golden cider flowing over crystal cubes. The glass was then raised to your lips and you inhaled the scent of your drink. A sip was all it took. The taste is like a hypothetical melted scoop of apple gelato. It's as if you were drinking the juice from ten apples in one gulp—multiplied by alcohol. It has a nice tartness without becoming syrupy sweet. The taste had you humming and sighing in the content. The stress from putting your life on the line was suddenly washed away.

"Almost all critical and classified information in the world is in your hands. Your head's full of them that's more valuable than gold. There must be as many enemies as there are stars in the sky who wish to torture you for information." the bartender was busy wiping glasses as he said this.

"But you seem so happy." he smiled.

"Well, it's because the information seems to be interesting and I look forward to others that might mix things up a bit in this case. Because I have a feeling it's far from over." you chuckled gently.

You always appeared to be an innocent civilian outside your work. You didn't have any friends at all aside from the bartender and probably the very few people you always traded information with. While you drank, you had your phone in your right hand, looking through the news on heroes. They seem to be performing well recently, stopping villain attacks, helping, and protecting civilians. In a way, your job is helping people but its completely different from what heroes normally do.

A plain white long-sleeved top finished off with a black vest, a tie, and black trousers. If he weren't sitting two seats away from you with a drink in hand, you would easily mistake him as a bartender. His face looked a bit young, framed by a short mess of fluffy dark-green hair that sticks up at odd angles. Somehow it looks really fluffy too. His eyes are large and somewhat circular, their irises the same green color as his hair. He has a set of four symmetrical freckles in diamond formations, one on each cheek. You recognized him as one of the most notorious villain.

"So you're the infamous informant broker?" he spoke first.

"And you're the villain, Deku right?" you asked.

"Oh! Am I that famous?" he perked up.

You chuckled at the sight of his face lighting up in surprise. Sure it probably was him just messing around with you and faking an expression. Deku smiles at you in response and you couldn't help but think that he looked quite attractive despite being a villain. You've heard a lot of rumors about him but honestly, this was your first time seeing him face to face like this. And you couldn't help but think that he's quite attractive. Overall he looks innocent but you've met countless villains before and you could see the crazed look in his eyes.

"So, you needed something from me? You're quite lucky to run into me in this getup." you said, setting down your drink back onto the coaster.

"Are you implying that this is how you really look?"

Your quirk was a strong one but you never really used it for combat, you often it used to hide your identity and to escape. The name given to your quirk was Illusion. It revolves around the use of illusions, allowing you to create illusions that deceive many people. You can also determine who sees and hears the illusions and who doesn't. When the targets strike the illusions, they will break after a few hits. You often used your quirk to change your appearance and sneak into places, it was easy to deceive cameras and people with a little bit of acting.

"Perhaps." you shrugged with a coy smile.

Deku was surprisingly a talkative person and a smooth talker. You've had your fair share of guys that flirted and tried to pick you up but none of them actually caught your interest. Most of the time, you would do this for the sake of obtaining information. But with Deku, you were genuinely interested in whatever topics he brought up. It was as if you were talking with one of your old friends. You felt at ease and even thought that lowering your guard wouldn't be a problem at all. Then again, the bar was a quiet place with only you, Deku, and the bartender inside. He was a gentleman through and through, even going as far as to pay for your drinks.

The two of you had an odd relationship. You both flirted with one another often, acting like lovers when you're actually not. However, you couldn't deny that Deku is an attractive person.

You’d always meet Deku in the same bar at the same time. Sometimes he’d pay for your drinks and sometimes you’d pay for his. He was probably one of the very few people that actually meet up with you just to spend some time instead for information. He often went on about his day, talking about how he just got rid of an organization that was using his name, spreading false rumors which caused other organizations to attack them. It was very interesting for you to hear him talk about his thrilling life. As an information broker, you often assisted people who're living a lifestyle where they know they could lose your life at any moment was to be expected.

It was the kind of lifestyle you can never relate to. Of course, just like any other human, you feared death. You preferred listening to stories of people living that lifestyle you could never imagine yourself in. You actually loved watching from a distance whenever a fight breaks out. It's like watching an action movie for free and thanks to your quirk, you get a front-row seat to it.

"Damn, they’re at it again."

"What's it this time?"

"The port on the north, there was a fight between two organizations and it blew up!"

You heard people whispering about that while you were walking around town. At that moment, you recalled blurting out that a certain organization was planning on shipping high-quality explosives to Yokohama. The only people you told that to were ones that were really close to you. As you stepped into the bar, you were greeted warmly by the bartender and the music. Your eyes landed on the familiar figure sitting by the counter, casually sipping their drink and looking like he has been here for quite a while.

"That was quite an explosion, Deku-kun!" you exclaimed, skipping over and taking a seat next to the man. He let out a chuckle in return, his posture was relaxed and just by looking at him, he was giving off an innocent vibe.

"Hm? What are you talking about?" he feigned innocence with a smile.

The two of you conversed like usual. It was all over the news that there were theories that Deku was the culprit behind this explosion but the police didn't have enough evidence. On the other hand, you had been observing the whole incident from a very safe place. It was very thrilling, there were quirkless people with weapons and a ton of action. The explosion was one that attracted attention and woke up countless of people. Despite being within a safe distance, the heat from the explosion and the noise managed to deafen your ears. You knew that it was him because you only remembered babbling about it while you were in the bar. What’s more, it wasn’t a fight between two organizations. It was only Deku single-handedly destroying the entire port.

”Maybe I should’ve become a detective instead.” you hummed.

”No way. This job suits you well.” Deku said with an innocent smile, leaning against you.

”With that innocent vibe you give off and your quirk.....And not mention, your irresistible charm and draws in men.” Deku takes hold of your hand and gently strokes the back of your hand with his gloved hand.

“Don’t tell me that you’ve fallen in love with me?” you teased playfully.

”Perhaps I have.” Deku answers within a heartbeat. He sounds pretty serious for once, dropping the playful smirk that he usually has. But that serious look disappeared and was replaced with that usual grin he had. He chuckled and told you that he was just joking. You rolled your eyes in response and watched as he sipped his drink.

"Any man would be lucky to have you as a girlfriend. I know I would be." Deku rested his elbow on the counter, holding his cheek with his hand and looking at you.

"Is that your way of asking me out?" you smiled cheekily at him.

"Not today sweetheart. I will ask you out in a way that will blow your mind." Deku said with a confident smirk. You could only smile at him.

"I look forward to it."

On the next night, instead of heading to the bar, you decided to head elsewhere. The streets were still busy with people crossing the road and cars passing by. However, you took another road that was small and vacant. You were closing in on an abandoned building by the port which was currently used as a storage. As you looked up into the sky, you could see a few heroes flying in the air and making their way to the same destination as you were. You laid low, ensuring that no cameras and people caught you snooping around.

When you arrived at the abandoned storage building, you could hear a conversation going on while you sneaked into the building, and found the perfect spot to watch everything unfold. This kind of information will really sell well, especially to the news reporters. You kept quiet, holding onto a voice recording tool as you sit atop a bunch of crates, swinging your legs back and forth.

"Villain Deku. On the criminal charges of complicity in 140 murders, 67 cases of extortion, and sundry other crimes. You are under arrest."

"I guess I have finally been caught." Deku raised his hands in defeat. He was out of tricks, even injured from fighting against heroes. He was laying atop of broken crates, blood running down his face and his body ached all over. His wounds weren't that major but if he moved, it was still painful. Not to mention, his pristine white dress shirt was soaked in his own blood.

Deku finds himself closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"Hey, Deku. Do you want to live?"

Your familiar voice caused him to open his eyes. He has never felt this relieved to see you here. Seeing you smiling at him made him smile too. His gaze softened into the one that you’re used with, one that was playful and loving.

All of a sudden, the moon emerged from its hiding spot behind the clouds. The moonlight cast a silhouette over your figure and with the help of your quirk, you were well disguised, looking like a completely different person. You stood at the top of a stack of crates and the spot where the moonlight shone onto the building. Using your quirk, you changed your appearance, from your hair to your clothes. Instead of making yourself visible to only Deku, you decided to reveal yourself to everyone. While everyone still has their attention on you, you hopped off the crate and landed on your feet gracefully. The people Deku were fighting against heroes who were looking into the port explosion incident.

"Oh! You came to save me?" Deku's eyes gleam in surprise.

"I can't have you dying." you stood in front of the villain who was knocked down with debris of the crates scratched up his skin. You paid no heed to the heroes who were telling you to get out of the way and wondering whether you were an accomplice or not.

"Not when you promised me a date."

"What kind of magic are you gonna show me today?" Deku finds himself smiling at you. He knows the full extent of your quirk and has seen you actually use it before. It was very versatile. You could create a smokescreen and use that chance to escape. Or you could create illusions of soldiers to distract the heroes and escape. Honestly, the things you could do were endless. You pulled out a grenade from your pockets and waved it around.

"Nothing. Just a simple old grenade." you grinned.

You both miraculously escaped despite your half-assed way of escaping. Normally, you always planned everything carefully to avoid people looking for you. However, you just felt like taking a risk today. You took Deku to your apartment to patch him up. This was your very first time actually bringing someone to your apartment and you couldn't believe that Deku was the first-ever person you've brought.

"I feel like I just did something really bad." you muttered to yourself as you gathered the medical supplies you had laid out.

"Would you feel better if I took you out on a romantic date as thanks?"

"Maybe."

Total: 2595 words Published: 09.09.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ First time writing for villain Deku! Hope you liked it anon! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! How does one write for villain Deku? Our very first time But we hope you enjoyed this, anon! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

113 notes · View notes