#okay class dismissed

[cloudstongue]

art dump before zee goes to sleep but everything is captioned (woohoo tags @zeeposting @desklamper @ryuatewater) oh yeah most of these are angsty lyric art bcuz i felt more emo than usual yesterday (most were made yesterday at night)

my first time drawing globe ever. it was good but then whiteboard fox was stubborn bc i accidentally deleted stuff so now its “layered” kinda wrong and looks wonky

ahhh yes. sad

redraw of the first one i made this morning, id say ive improved

THIS WAS LAST NIGHT AND BEFORE THEY ARE NOW MUTUALLY MADLY IN LOVE…also i dont trust desklamper in writing a healthy relationship (sorry)

they are the besties ever

like one pot drawing bc i dont like the way i draw him (ill make more art for ryu i swear…maybe just wb im only slightly good at drawing her)

just a silly rapier :3 because i like him a normal amount. uh originally i was gonna draw him with stickers and a kiss mark but i quit bcuz im a LOSER and dont know how to draw kiss marks and cant come up with good sticker ideas that arent cats and stars so…yeah. mic was gonna be there too but uh im tired WHY IS THE CAPTION A WHOLE PARAGRAPH UM???

[cloudstongue]

we need these more often guys i swear not all cats hate birds or eat them some of them actually fw birds LOOKING AT YOU @desklamper…/j

[saedyne]

gooooooooood morning everyone!!

they announced what.

[chizucore]

the KNT subreddit is an evil evil place this one poor person made a post like "what if ayane was gay?? i'm halfway through season 3 and thinking it" and everyone is downvoting them and shutting them down and the like 2 people who agreed are getting downvoted too...girl get on over to tumblr we've been saying this here for years!! these boring boring miserable homophobic unimaginative people don't get you but the real KNTheads do

[kawaiichibiart]

Okay, maybe it's just me, but I can't be the only who's read fanfics where the Akuma class learns Adrien knew Lila was a liar and the only way they say they'll "forgive" him is if he takes Marinette on a date, to be manipulative as fuck, right?

Like, oh you knew this important information that our older friend has said numerous times and didn't say anything?? Even after we made it so obvious we didn't believe the person we knew longer?? We didn't even give her the benefit of the doubt. Because we'd totally believe you, someone we've known for a few months, someone who's a boy (hello misogyny). You gave her advice that she didn't have to take? Advice you didn't force her to follow? Advice she decided to take anyways?? Advice she WILLINGLY took?? You should have said something earlier. Now if you want our trust back, you have to take this girl we know, but you don't know, likes you out on the most romantic (and expensive) date ever. And you have to treat her like royalty. We don't care if you've said your interested in another person/were going to ask someone else out/just got out of a relationship and don't want to get in another one. Take Marinette on a date.

To me that's just so fucking manipulative and uncaring for Adrien's feelings and just a way to make sure Marinette doesn't have to be the one to ask him out.

I'm sorry, but they are not his friends. Who fucking does that?? Who decides that in order to "forgive" someone (which honestly, no, they didn't have the right to. They had no right to "forgive" Adrien when they made it clear who'd they'd be more likely to believe at the time and how they didn't even show that they took what Marinette said to mind) they have to take someone else on a date?? You don't have a choice. You HAVE to take them on a date.

Again. They. Are. NOT. His. FRIENDS.

[anothermonikan]

Man high school was fucked up. You ever think about that. Thank fucking god I'm not in high school anymore

[pinkcasket]

I'm fairly certain I could convince a lot of left-leaning people that solar power is bad. between people's nuclear opinions and the AI (LLM) panic and general hatred of medical professionals, I think the average progressive/leftist is two steps away from becoming joe rogan but woke

[cuddlytogas]

@originalleftist left this reply, which I think is worth digging into!

There is some truth to this, particularly that many pirates were seeking both an escape from and revenge for the harsh conditions of lawful maritime employment at the time (though I'm not sure if the Roberts quote is genuine). But I'm pretty sure a lot of this is incorrect, especially the claim that Golden Age pirates as a group were seeking to abolish nations, which is probably pure wishful thinking from modern anarchists. To the extent that they involved themselves in national politics, a bigger concern was whether the House of Stuart sat on the English throne (the name of Blackbeard's flagship, the Queen Anne's Revenge, is thought to be an allusion to this). I will also note that, ahistorical or not, dismissing the freedom to love as a diluted concept of freedom is simply contemptuous of the queer community, treating their rights as an afterthought, and is a great example of how a certain brand of Left wing politics makes the reductive mistake of treating economic class conflict as the sole issue, to the exclusion of all other concerns.

okay, fair enough on the quotation: nothing in the General History should exactly be taken at face value! XD but it still shows what was understood to be part of Roberts' - and by extension his contemporaries' - motives in turning pirate, so it's still useful

but the rest of your reply is mostly a misunderstanding of my point! so, terribly sorry, but this is about to get long...

firstly, I didn't mean to say that golden age pirates explicitly aimed to abolish nations. you're right, that's a very modern anarchist value. but multiple historians (Rediker in particular, but he's not the only one; I wish I'd digitised my notes already to give proper sources!) identify their uniquely anti-national - or perhaps non-national - energy. previous generations of C17th buccaneers and pirates often retained their nationalism, seeking letters of marque, or targeting the ships/ports of enemy nations. (Henry Morgan was knighted and made Governor of Jamaica after his buccaneering ended!) they were explicitly or tacitly endorsed by european officials as tools in the struggle for mercantile and naval dominance.

in contrast, the 1710s-20s pirates were much less discerning. the post-War of Spanish Succession period saw a (slave) trade boom in the Caribbean/North America, plus a flood of unemployed navy/privateer sailors, predictably leading to increased piracy. but now, they attacked ships indiscriminately, and denied - in action and sometimes word - national allegiances. and the authorities recognised this! merchants and officials begged for help, and the English cracked down harder than ever, because these pirates were no longer useful to crown interests, but a threat to all trade.

this included pardons in 1717 and 18, but also increased naval presence; active campaigns like Woodes Rogers' in 1713 and 18 against the Madagascar and Bahamas pirates respectively; and expanded anti-piracy laws in 1717 and 1721, reinforcing a 1698 act to set up colonial admiralty courts to try pirates rather than sending them to England, and treating the assistance, protection, or trade with pirates as piracy itself, rewarding/punishing sailors who defeated/surrendered to pirates. it was a violent cycle: by the 1720s, the navy and dwindling pirates were both growing increasingly brutal and indiscriminate.

(for more on pirates and labour, especially practices of asking a boarded crew how their captains treated them, there's a talk by Rediker on youtube. pop it on 1.5x speed, he's a slow talker XD)

as to Jacobitism, I honestly think this is a neglected area of research, and I'm yet to find proper, thorough work on it. (suggestions always welcome!) but of course, this period aligns with the 1715 Jacobite rebellion and its aftermath, following Anne's death and the end of the war. many rebels were jailed and executed, or fled, including to the "new world". the 1717 piracy pardon came two months after a Jacobite one.

however, I don't think we can infer much from pirate ship names like Queen Anne's Revenge and Royal James, or reports of pro-Stuart toasts. for one, Jacobitism seems like an easy way to further slander someone accused of piracy. more importantly though, it's very unclear how earnest these declarations were!

these pirates often exhibited a dark sense of humour. they were committed to (quoth Roberts via Johnson again) "a merry life and a short one", and are consistently reported as feasting, drinking, and carousing. Anstis' crew apparently spent a 1721 holiday running mock piracy trials of each other.

such people toasting the Pretender seems less a political statement than general anti-authoritarianism. they certainly never materially assisted Jacobite causes, nor (AFAIK) targeted Hanoverians. in my opinion, the evidence suggests that these toasts and ship names were generally provocative, an abstract allegiance with treason/disruption rather than a sincere political endorsement.

all this to say: I didn't mean that golden age pirates were political anarchists trying to abolish nationhood. but their practices - allying with their own, democratic communities rather than any state - contains anti-national energies that I wish were more often expressed by modern pirate media. again, if we're going to valourise these pirates, we might as well extrapolate the highest of their actual ideals, and wouldn't that non-national, radical-democracy energy be a great place to start?

as to "dismissing the freedom to love as a diluted concept of freedom [compared to class conflict]"... I mean - come on. that's obviously not what I meant. my frustration isn't with the freedom to love as an abstract political concept, and TBH, as a righteous queer, I don't appreciate being accused of 'treating queer rights as an afterthought'.

my frustration is with how modern popular media utilises a shallow and unchallenging idea of 'freedom to love' to epitomise rebellion, while also erasing the actual rebellions. queer rights aren't advanced by endless anodyne, straight romances in pirate movies with a veneer of defiance because they're a noblewoman and a pirate (sometimes also a nobleman in disguise).

like, we could talk about how class/racial marriage equality paved the way for same-sex marriage; how cross-class relationships were and are oppressed; Anne Bonny/Mary Read's freedom in pirate relationships compared to on land; homosocial male communities and potential freedom from anti-sodomy laws; etc etc etc. all of which would be fascinating, exciting lenses through which to examine piracy historically and in modern media!

but golden age pirates themselves didn't mention that. to repeat the original post, what these pirates expressed - and what's left out of mainstream pirate media - was a specific response to specific social and economic oppressions. the erasure of this isn't frustrating to me because I'm a leftist focused on class struggle above all, but because it ignores and defangs actual political history.

maybe it's just the Radical Rediker talking, but there's something pointed in the way that, say, popular pirate media like Pirates of the Caribbean dilutes the pirate's freedom to "bring me that horizon" as opposed to, say, "plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, liberty and power" (Bartholomew Roberts).

broadly speaking, most pirates chose the life in order to escape and revenge the hard labour, corporal punishment, overworking, and unequal pay of merchant/navy/privateer ships; or the privations of their sudden unemployment once a war was over, ignored as soon as their ability to die for the state was unneeded. yes, many were thugs, but, consciously political or not, they were responding to a particular, material reality.

the pirate's desired freedom was from the effects of exploitative modes of statehood and capital production. but popular media usually shifts this into a general desire for freedom: freedom to roam, freedom to love (usually merely a cross-class white, heterosexual union), or freedom from the personal pressures of social norms. it's a vague, ahistorical, post-Enlightenment, libertarian ideal rather than a response to a real social and economic situation.

to be clear, this only really applies to specifically the late golden age of piracy, in the first quarter of the 18th century. earlier generations of pirates/buccaneers often displayed nationalist/religious motives, and were lauded, tolerated, or even encouraged by the French and English states for aiding their fights against the Spanish and Portuguese. only the last gasp of age of sail pirates had a truly anti-national energy, and both figured themselves, and were figured by the imperial powers, as the enemies of all nations.

but if we are to valourise the late golden age pirate, at his best, his ideals were for true democracy, and the abolition of nation, hierarchy, and labour exploitation; not "the horizon". he was striking out in response to specific political, social, and economic oppressions, rather than a general individual restlessness, and that reality - and its similarities to our own - are important.

I dunno, I just... have a lot of thoughts about the defanging of piracy in modern media. obviously there were a lot of things bad about them, too, and the level of egalitarianism varied between individual people and ships. but again, if we're going to be valourising them anyway... there were idealists. and they weren't subtle about they wanted.

"I shan't own myself guilty of any murder", said William Fly in 1726. "Our captain and his mate used us barbarously. We poor men can't have justice done us. There is nothing said to our commanders, let them never so much abuse us, and use us like dogs. But the poor sailors --"

[pangur-and-grim]

okay sorry, one other thing annoyed me about that writing class. one of the students is this super clean-cut doctor who works at an HIV clinic, and he asked the prof "do you ever get distracted while reading books, because you find yourself analyzing the craft of them instead of sinking into the story?"

and she said "no," and turned away. and the whole class laughed awkwardly, bc it was a pretty abrupt and dismissive answer. so then she turned back to him and said "you wouldn't ask a musician if they get distracted listening to songs. they just enjoy the music."

but I dunno, I'm a newbie writer with only one (scheduled-to-be-published) book under my belt, but I get distracted sometimes when I'm reading. if I find I'm not sinking into a block of text, I'll squint at it and be like "okay, they're using too much passive voice, that's why my brain isn't grabbing on to it." so I'm sorry Mr. HIV doctor, I thought your question was reasonable!

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities

pairing : fem reader x slytherin gang x golden trio.

warnings : SMUT (in the next chapter), tom can read minds, female reader, reader is a virgin, they’re all infatuated with her, ron and draco are really touchy with each other, reader is a pureblood and a rosier, but no physical characteristics are included.

a/n : please let me know if you enjoyed this, it motivates me to write more and faster. also, i really wanted to include smut in this part, but i didn’t want to rush it and make it bad. love 🤍

────── ☾ ──────

“you don’t look too good” a deep, low voice said from behind you, and you immediately turned to see its owner. not that it was needed.

you hummed, incredulous. “nice to see you too, draco.”

he only laughed at your dismissive attitude and sat down next to you. his eyes scanned the paper you were almost ripping into, and he searched for your gaze, silently asking you to let him look at it. “what kind of idiot would even take muggle studies? it’s optional” he nodded slowly, making you feel even dumber. “you don’t have to take it.”

huffing, you took the paper back and tried your best to ignore him, as if that would make him go away.

“okay, sorry” he mumbled, scratching the tip of his pen against a plain piece of paper, his eyes avoiding yours. “i just. i would’ve never taken it. ever. and take that from someone who’s good at every subject.”

and that made you finally snap. “okay, you’re so good at everything! congrats on that, dimwit!” you spat at him, rolling your eyes as you felt your blood boil. “you think i’d actually take this class on my own accord?! think again.”

draco fell silent at that. you were right, you were a pureblood after all. and your family would go crazy if they found out about you taking this class. so that only left him one option - his eyes lit up. “you like a mudblood” he said with disgust, making a face that you were so familiar with already.

and you wanted to lie to him and tell him it’s not true, but your cheeks reddened and you tried to hide it with your hair, but it was no use. draco knew you like the back of his hand. “oh, merlin!” he stood up from the chair, mouth open wide, but instinctively curling into a scowl when madam pince shushed him.

“which one is it? is it riddle, please say no” “no, draco… why would i even take muggle studies for him? he despises muggle-borns. he doesn’t even like his own grandmother since she’s the reason he’s a halfblood.”

draco made a realisation sound, but his eyebrows furrowed. “you know an awful lot about this guy.”

“i only spend like half of my time with you lot. and mind you, the other half i’m sleeping.”

your words didn’t do anything to him, though. only made him fall deeper into thoughts. why was he comfortable enough with you so that he could be himself, yet you weren’t?

you looked up at him curiously, noticing his nails tugging at the thin skin on his knuckles, and you couldn’t help but place your hand over his, that causing draco to look up at you as well. “what?”

he was visibly more relaxed under your touch, but you could tell that he didn’t expect it. you were not too touchy, especially with him. “do you wanna go back to the common room? you look tired.”

but he shook his head, dragging his chair even closer to yours. “no. no, i’m just fine” he whispered whilst trying his best not to yawn.

you smiled to yourself. he was a cutie when he wanted to be. or when he wasn’t trying so hard to make other people feel bad. “i’ll go with you. i’m done here anyway. i think i’ll try to get help from an actual muggle-born.”

he didn’t really let it show, but he was grateful. either you did it because you were tired too, or for him, he was more than content when you took his hand and dragged him behind you back to the common room.

🤍

yet when you arrived to the common room, with draco basically glued to your side, you almost prayed that it would be quiet. it was anything but that.

loud chatter could be heard all the way down the hallway, and as you whispered the password, you could even distinguish the voices.

“oh, look who’s here!” lorenzo basically threw himself at you two, kissing your cheek and squeezing draco closer to him. yet, he only let go of you, keeping the younger boy wrapped around his body.

you took the opportunity and plopped down on the sofa next to a visibly tired theo. he shot you a lazy smile which you returned, your hands resting on the back of the sofa. “i’m fucking tired.”

“poor baby. you stayed late studying again?” blaise cooed at you and your brows shot up hearing his voice, not even aware of his presence until then.

you whined quietly, your eyes closing for a mere moment. “yeah. i think i might need hermione’s help though. i don’t think i’ll be able to do it on my own anytime soon.”

“granger’s help?” theo seemed more awake now, and your words made even tom put his book away. “what for? i’m sure it’s nothing draco couldn’t help you with.”

draco hummed softly from beside you, head resting against enzo’s chest as he looked just about three seconds away from falling asleep. “she’s taking muggle studies.”

you gave him a dirty look that you’re not sure he even caught, judging by his eyes being more than 80% closed by then.

though, around you, strings of questions followed. “oh, dolcezza, what for?” theo was the first one to ask, a gentle smile on his face.

to be fair, you weren’t sure why. you just found yourself wanting to know more about muggle-borns. you were concerned about their abilities. of course, other reasons ensued.

you sighed. “i’m just really curious. how can a muggle do magic? how can some of them be even better at it than us?” you paused, opening your eyes to look at them. “do you ever think about that?”

“i always thought that they’re not really muggle-borns. just adopted by clueless muggles” mattheo shrugged, taking a drag from his joint.

tom looked at his brother with something that you could only call disdain, before he looked at you, your eyes locking. “distant ancestors is my humble guess” his tone had a bite to it, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

maintaining eye contact, you felt as if he was eating you alive with just his eyes, gaze so intense that it made your knees give out. “that’s what the books say” you agreed, slightly startled when theo’s head dropped on your lap, your fingers almost instinctively going to play with his soft curls, the boy humming with appreciation.

you smiled down at him. “what do you say, teddy?”

“whatever you wanna do is fine by me, amorina” he replied a bit too quickly, his long, slender fingers rubbing at your knee.

that made you snicker, and you relax against the sofa, closing your eyes again. you didn’t hear much after that as you drifted off. but you surely remembered someone’s arms wrapping around you and carrying you to your prefect dorm.

🤍

you woke up with a headache the next day, and your owl delivered a letter - oh no. you wanted to postpone opening it, but you had no chance as it opened on its own, your mother’s high pitched, obnoxious voice ringing in your ears.

“y/n rosier! how dare you embarrass us this way??! taking muggle studies?! might as well put a knife in my heart. i don’t care about extra points, as long as you’re risking all of our lives - if the dark lord is made aware of this nonsense, he’ll have our throats! if you put another toe out of line, we’ll bring you STRAIGHT HOME!”

sighing, you ripped the parchment into pieces and threw your bag over your shoulder. you knew it was coming, you just didn’t know who told them.

walking down the stairs, you were met with a pair of curious eyes - they probably heard it all. how could they not?

“what was that about?” a confused blaise came to stand beside you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he walked with you out of the common room.

“my mother” you looked straight ahead as you walked, an unreadable expression on your face. “I have to drop muggle studies or the dark lord will have our throats.”

blaise chuckled lowly and squeezed you closer to his side, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “didn’t you expect that? i mean, we’re friends with his sons, of course they’d tell him.”

“you think so? i thought matt hated him” you said confusedly. mattheo did hate him, but his evil twin was a spitting image of his father.

your mouth opened in realisation. that bastard.

“listen… i love tom, but i don’t always trust him” he explained quietly, his face inching closer to yours as if he was afraid tom would actually hear him. “he’s a lot smarter than i think possible. and we all know that he’s always trying to please his father.”

that left you deep in thought. you had known tom for years, but you never thought he’d turn you in.

arriving to your first class of the day, potions, blaise left your side and went to sit at the table in front of you. funnily enough? tom was sitting just behind you.

“you’ll be paired up today as this is quite a difficult task and i’m not sure all of you can manage” professor slughorn eyed adrian pucey and you giggled quietly, blaise turning to you to shoot you a devilish grin.

dismissing you both with a hand waving in the air, slughorn continued. “alright, if miss rosier and mister zabini will allow me, i’ll start reading” he eyed you rather playfully and you gave a curt nod.

“mister zabini and mister pucey,” you could see blaise’s fall even from the side, as he gathered his things and went to sit with adrian, but not before shaking his head at you. “mister weasley and mister malfoy,” and your head snapped, your eyes widening when you finally heard your name, “mister riddle and miss rosier.”

you froze on the spot, unable to move as you heard shuffling from behind you, and soon after, tom was neatly placing his cauldrons on your table. “morning” his voice was soft but firm.

“morning” unlike your own, which was rather shaky. “did you hear what kind of potion we have to make? i-i wasn’t paying attention.”

he could see the blush creeping up your neck, his eyes observing every little detail - as always. “I didn’t tell father about you.”

you choked on air, tom having to pat you on the back, a foreign glint in his eyes. and once you finally relaxed, your throat rough, you asked. “how do you know that?”

“i read blaise’s mind” he shrugged as if it was nothing.

mouth agape, you stared at him like he’d grown two heads. and when you didn’t speak, he continued. “see weasley and malfoy there” he pointed to them and you nodded. “he’s thinking about screwing him. malfoy.”

“draco?!” you almost yelled and half of the class turned to look at you, which earned you a disappointing head shake from tom.

“yes, draco” he whispered nonchalantly, and his face fell. “they’re screwing more than any of us. they even do it in broom closets and if you catch draco drinking more than two butterbeers, he’ll tell you all about it.”

you nodded once, twice… and your brows furrowed. “any of you? who are you screwing?”

“our group. plus the golden trio, but i’m not big on that. it’s casual, not to them apparently” he nodded toward ron and draco again, and you sighed, still very much confused.

“why… why am i not a part of that?”

tom looked down and you could swear it was the first time he actually hesitated. “draco started all of this. i’m not… i’m not sure why.”

“bullshit” you spat, turning your face away from him. it actually made you feel bad. why did they not include you?

just as tom was about to speak again, probably come up with some lame excuse, you raised your hand, feigning stomach ache. “may i please be excused, professor? i don’t feel so good.”

and obviously, crazy scared about these things, slughorn let you go, and you felt tom’s burning gaze on your back as you left.

you decided that you didn’t want to see any of them that day. maybe the next day too. and the days after that.

you felt deeply hurt. not just because of the physical things you were missing on, but because they were your friends, and you were the only one being excluded from their activities.

sitting alone on the great hall, your mind started to wander. it wandered to all those times theo would disappear right before dinner and come back disheveled, when hermione would leave your study sessions early, when enzo and mattheo would feign being sick whilst the rest of you went to hogsmeade.

and your conclusion? none of them found you attractive. not a single person. you had had problems with the way you looked, as one does, but they were never this serious.

never to the point that you could physically feel the hole in your heart.

putting an end to your thoughts, the bell rang and students started making their way to the great hall. it was already lunch time.

you contemplated leaving, as you could already hear some of your friends nearby, but instead, you sat a few seats down from your usual spot, adrian pucey claiming the sit next to you.

“i must say i didn’t expect this, but i’m not mad” he chuckled as he started cutting into his meat, eyeing you curiously.

you tried to put on a smile, as insincere as it was due to your state. “i could use a change of scenery… what about your match against gryffindor on saturday? tell me about that.”

his eyes lit up instantly, and you thanked merlin for it. he would blabber and never shut up about it, so he couldn’t ask any more questions about your unusual behaviour. “so, we’re gonna beat those dimwits up. i don’t care what it takes-”

“yeah, shut up, pucey” you were startled and pulled out of your daydreaming by mattheo’s rough voice. looking up at him, you could see his eyes turning red with anger, and he took your hand in his.

he was so gentle even though he looked about ready to jump adrian. you stood up and held him close to you. without another word, he shot adrian a dirty look and led you out of the great hall and back to the slytherin common room.

the walk there was quiet, yet you could feel how tense he was. his hand on yours, even if gentle, was stiff. his shoulders were tense and it almost looked like he refused to blink.

you didn’t dare speak a word to him as he led you inside, the common room much too crowded at this time - dinner time, more specifically.

but the people there were not just random people.

“what is this?” you asked meekly, feeling too exposed as all of their eyes were on you.

they all looked at you with different kinds of expressions. draco looked angry, whilst ron, leaning back against his chest, was more excited than ever. blaise had a stern look on his face, and theo, enzo, tom, hermione and harry just looked thrilled to be there.

when none of them answered, mattheo spoke up. “my brother here is an idiot.”

“say something new” draco scoffed and blaise elbowed him in the ribs, the blond looking down as mattheo glared at him.

he turned back to you, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles as he looked down at you. “sweetheart, we didn’t include you because…” he sighed and you gulped, not feeling ready for the refusal. “because we know that you’re a virgin.”

you gasped, trying to push him away with your hands, but he tugged you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your smaller frame. “this is bullshit, i don’t care-!”

“okay, okay!” theo interrupted you and all of you looked at him, your brows rising. “we thought that even if you agreed to it… we didn’t- fuck! we couldn’t accept that, when you had to pick one of us to be your first, the others would just have to- live with it.”

you froze for what felt like the hundredth time today - they didn’t find you unattractive. they wanted you more than you could begin to think of.

────── ☾ ──────

[iinterstellaarr]

fratboy!satoru having a crush on you is kinda like burning your hand on a hot stove.

it sucks.

satoru is cocky in all meanings of the word. he’s constantly on top of tables, playing beer pong, or dangling and swinging from the chandelier in the frat house that is still up by the grace of God.

yet somehow, despite walking into class 25 minutes late and complaining about his hangover for the rest of your hour long class, he still maintains nearly perfect grades.

every girl has a crush on him, or thinks he’s the scum of the earth. every guy wants to be him and he knows this. he carries himself with such confidence that it’s not hard to see why he’s so popular.

and then there’s you.

you applied to this prestigious college in hopes of getting your degree and getting the hell out of there the first chance you got. somehow, you got in and are now dedicated to spending your next 5 years stuck in this school

and stuck with satoru.

he comes from a family of immense wealth. you were pretty sure he didn’t even need to go to college or have a job, and yet here he was in all his douchebaggy glory. everytime he walked past girls would giggle and guys would grumble

but he was focused on you.

you never made a noise when he walked past, never even looked up from the dumb tiktok’s you were watching on your phone. even when he made a spectacle in class, you wouldn’t even spare him a giggle or an eye roll. to you, it was like he didn’t even exist.

your lack of presence had somehow caught his eye, and through the flood of people that he saw everyday, he was stuck on you.

-

“i literally don’t get it.” satoru grumbled into his pillow as his roommate, suguru, rolled his eyes for the trillionth time.

“why do you care so much? it’s not like the flood of girls nipping at your heels is gonna go dry anytime soon.” suguru massaged the temples on his head, desperately trying to relieve himself from the satoru induced migraine

“it’s different! i want an eyeroll, a scoff, something!” satoru flops over on his back and looks to his roommate

“you’re annoyed because she doesn’t acknowledge your existence?”

“exactly!”

“narcissist.” satoru groaned at his roommate and pouted into his pillow once again.

“your just salty your bumble date ghosted you.” satoru claimed, and quickly retracted as a pillow was throw at his head.

-

the next class you had early in the morning made you groan as you sat down and opened your bag to grab your computer.

“is this seat taken?” your head snaps up while you meet bright blue eyes, although they were covered by dark sunglasses.

you whip your head around to the plethora of empty seats, even the ones in the back held no one, which was a miracle in itself.

“uhm, no?” you scooped up some of your items to make room for the lengthy boy as he sat down next to you. he leaned his head on his hand as he eyed you up and down.

“i don’t believe we’ve met. i’m satoru gojo, although you can just call me satoru, gorgeous.” he had a cocky grin on his face, sure that he was being charming by extending the pleasure of calling him by his name to you and by the slightest compliment.

“yeah, okay.” you nodded slightly, praying to whatever God would listen that he’d just leave you alone. his smile faltered at your dismissive tone, although he was far from done playing with you.

“what are you majoring in?” his eyes were still fixed on you, as if some omnipotent creature was whispering all the ways to make you tick, and he was listening as if it were scripture.

you rolled your eyes and spared him a glance although lacked a response as you continued to furiously type the paper that was due for this class.

after that blatant dismissal, he tried everything.

a large, very expensive looking bouquet by your dorm? he found them in the dumpster the next morning. causing a ruckus in the quad? you walked past him as if he were trash on the sidewalk. a pyramid of redbulls inside your dorm (how’d he get in?) was found in a donation box for other students who were struggling. nothing he did could ever catch your eye.

although he didn’t know the flowers you got him made you violently sneeze, so they were a hazard to keep in your living space. he didn’t know that the day he tackled suguru in the quad with the prayer of a fleeting glance, you were to focused on the mid term that was worth half your grade. the redbulls he left in your dorm just happened to be your least favorite flavor, and it probably was t healthy to drink all of those yourself. it wasn’t that you were purposely ignoring him, you just genuinely didn’t notice his foolish antics were to get your attention.

-

it wasn’t until the end of the year that satoru finally snapped.

he found you in the library, surrounded by books and half drunken iced coffee. you looked different from the girls that usually followed him. not bad different, but raw. real.

you didn’t notice him until his shadow blocked the flow of light that illuminated your books.

you looked up, sighing slightly before pulling out and earbud

“if this is about the flowers, i’m allergic-“

“get up.” his tone was different from the cocky frat boy you knew. he was nervous. nervous in your presence, nervous in the line of your sight. he looked like and insecure school boy finally talking to his crush

“excuse me?” you watched as he scooped up the books and carefully shoved them into your bag, pulling your chair out while you were still sat in it.

“i wanna talk.” he pulled you by your wrist, still holding your backpack as he made a dash for the exit

“we can’t just talk here?” your feet were clumsy following the man in front of you, considering he was a good foot taller that you.

“it’s important, just…” he paused, the words fluttered on his tounge but he bit back before it all came rushing out. “please.”

that shut you up.

he rounded the corner and shoved open the door to a long forgotten stair well.

gojo crossed his arms, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, exposing the frustration flickering in those icey eyes. “what is your deal with me?”

you blinked.

“huh?”

“i’ve tried everything. everything,” he said, voice sharper than his usual smooth tone. “you ignore me like i’m background noise. like i don’t even exist.”

you stared, silent, waiting.

“i mean, do you hate me? did i do something? am I just some frat idiot to you?” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “you’re driving me insane and you don’t even care.”

“i do notice you, satoru.” his real name being slipped on your tounge caused his pacing to falter.

for the first time all year, you saw him. rough around the edges, and slightly insecure. he wasn’t satoru gojo, heir to a fortune many couldn’t comprehend and a total douchebag

he was just… satoru. a boy who didn’t know how to get the attention of someone like you without using elementary tactics.

“you don’t have to do anything dramatic to catch my eye. you don’t have to make small talk about stupid shit to get me to talk to you.”

“i see you, satoru. every over the top stunt, every weird little performance. i’ve seen it all. but the guy who leaves flowers im allergic too in front of my dorm to get attention?” you stood slowly, eyes locking with his. “that’s not who i’m interested in.”

he swallowed. “then who are you interested in?”

you leaned in just enough for your voice to hit him low and clear.

“the real you, whoever that is. it’s up to you to figure that out.”

and then you left him there, quiet for the first time in a long time.

-

the next time you saw satoru, he was just as nervous as last time. his eyes weren’t covered by his glasses and you swore you could see a glimmer of sweat drip down his forehead as he met you for the first class of the day.

“for you.” he held out a small iced coffee, the same one you had ordered for your impromptu study trip in the library.

he had memorized it.

in the small moment he saw to remember it, he had got it perfect.

“no flowers, no stupid tricks. just me.” you smiled as he handed it to you, the condensation on the cup making your hands cold and wet, but you didn’t mind.

“you remembered,” you said.

“ive been paying attention. even if you weren’t.”

you studied him. for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence. he just looked at you. nervous, hopeful, real.

and maybe he was still a little ridiculous. still loud, still dramatic in ways he couldn’t fully shake. but under all of that… there was something honest. something kind.

and maybe that was who satoru was all along.

“your still a frat idiot, satoru.”

“i’m your frat idiot.”

[steddiehyperfixation]

@steddiebingo prompts: college au + crush + bandana | 1.1k words | T |

“Steeeveennnn,” Robin complains, poking Steve's shoulder with her pencil. “This was not the deal.”

Steve blinks and startles as if shaken out of a trance and grudgingly drags his glance over to Robin. “What?”

“You're only supposed to zone out when I'm paying attention and I can only zone out when you're paying attention.” That's their standard deal for any class they share that they're both only taking to knock out some credits and isn't relevant to either of their majors.

“Okay,” he says, “so pay attention.”

“I have been, dingus,” she argues. While this semester's History of Rock course is actually kind of interesting, Robin would still appreciate being able to use some of the precious daydreaming time she’d been promised. “I've been giving you my notes for the last month, at least! It's my turn to zone out now, slacker.”

“Alright, alright. I'm paying attention.” Steve makes a big show of picking up his pencil and writing down what's on the lecture slides, even leaning forward a little to emphasize his focus. “You're free to zone out to your heart’s content.”

Robin doesn't trust him in the slightest.

She enjoys about five whole minutes of spacing out before one Eddie Munson inevitably interrupts the professor to challenge some point and any hope of Steve's ability to continue taking notes for her is lost completely. His attention is stolen the second that ringed hand goes up, focus returning undividedly to the loud, scraggly man who is now standing up in his vehemence to counter the teacher. Steve instantly becomes enraptured by this argument, though Robin doubts he’s really comprehending a single word of it. He even gets this dopey little smile on his face as he watches.

“Oh my god,” Robin groans, rolling her eyes and dropping her chin into her palm in resignation to her fate. Steve is utterly useless when he has a crush. It would be pointless, Sisyphean even, for her to keep trying to snap him out of it; no matter how many times she diverts his attention, it always rolls right back to Eddie.

Robin doesn't know what Steve sees in him. Personally, she finds Eddie kind of obnoxious and thinks he looks a bit like a stray dog that's been left outside in a thunderstorm. But for some reason he has her best friend totally captivated. Even when Eddie sits back down, conceding the tangential debate and letting the professor continue, Steve's gaze still lingers as it always does for the remainder of class, his eyes all dreamy and far away and the very epitome of yearning.

“This is getting pathetic,” Robin tells him when class is dismissed and she looks over to find him still staring. “Just go talk to him already. Make a move. I’m sick of watching you sit here and pine.”

“He might not even be queer, Rob.”

“He wears a black bandana in his back pocket.”

“So? He's all metal and shit, it could just be, like, a style thing. Doesn't mean it's hanky code.”

“Okay, so ask him.”

Steve looks at her like she's gone insane. “I can't just go up to him and ask him if he's flagging.”

“Fine, then I will.”

“What- No, Robin-!”

But Robin is already standing up and marching through the crowd of students leaving the classroom to catch up to Eddie. “Hey, are you flagging?”

Eddie stops short and turns sharply around to face her. “Excuse me?”

“That bandana you've always got in your pocket - is that just a fashion statement or are you flagging?” she repeats bluntly.

Eddie's eyes narrow, halfway between distrustful confusion and a sneer. “What's it to you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Robin says. “I couldn't care less. I'm asking for my friend, Steve.” She points a thumb over her shoulder, fairly certain Steve isn't too far behind her. “He's the one who's been staring at you like an idiot all semester, and he's just dying to know if-”

“Oh my god-” Steve interrupts, shoulder checking her as he comes up beside her, his face flushed and slightly out of breath like he fought his way here desperately. “I’m so sorry about her.” He gives Eddie an apologetic smile and cuts Robin a sideways glare. “She was dropped on the head a few too many times as a baby and it left her incapable of comprehending boundaries.”

Robin scoffs. “Oh, like watching creepily from afar is so much more respectful,” she retorts.

“I’m not a creep-” Steve rushes to protest, looking hastily back to Eddie. “I’m not a creep. She's making it sound like I'm some sort of stalker or something. I’m not, I swear.”

Eddie laughs, and Steve looks whipped. “It's alright, I don't mind.”

Eddie's wary hostility seems to have faded into something more amused and definitely not uninterested, if the way he's looking Steve over is any indication. Robin subtly nudges Steve with her arm. Time to turn on the charm, dingus, he likes you.

“You just catch my eye, is all,” Steve recovers, regaining his composure and quickly attempting to school his flustered, lovesick expression into a smoother, more intentional smile. “You stand out, you know - in a good way. I like your style, how outspoken you are. You seem really passionate about this music stuff; it's cool to watch.”

Eddie's interest only sharpens, slow grin growing. He considers him for another moment. “Your friend says you're curious about my bandana.”

“Yeah, uh-” A little bit of that flusteredness slips out again, just enough that it could possibly be intentional (or maybe not; Robin’s really not giving him that much credit). Steve chews at his lip, eyes flicking Eddie up and down. “That too.”

Eddie's about to say something in response, but he's cut off by someone shouting his name. There's some blond guy at the end of the hall gesturing impatiently at him.

“Shit, sorry, I gotta run, my band’s got practice right now. But, um.” Eddie searches his pockets and grabs a pen out of his leather jacket. “Here.” He takes Steve's arm, scribbling a phone number onto his skin. “Why don't you call me later and we can talk more, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He looks mildly starstruck, smiling stupidly at the number on his arm like it's a celebrity autograph or something. “Yeah, for sure.”

Robin snickers. “Oh, he's never washing that arm again.”

“Shut up, Robin,” Steve hisses, his cheeks tingeing pink again. Eddie laughs and Steve manages a sheepish smile. “I-I’ll call you,” he confirms again as he turns to leave, grabbing Robin by the arm and dragging her with him before she can embarrass him any further.

“You better,” Eddie calls after him, and Steve looks over his shoulder just in time to catch his smirk and farewell salute before he too turns and bounds off in the opposite direction.

Robin digs her elbow into Steve’s ribs, grinning smugly at him. “You're fucking welcome,” she says.

[cuteandhughesy]

You Were Right There All Along ╰┈➤ MB13

summary: you've been harbouring an embarrassing crush on your best friends brother since the moment you laid eyes on him in the 8th grade. during a drunken game of truth or dare with all your friends, mat finds out your secret. but when things start changing between you and mat, you're unsure how to navigate the new dynamic.

[word count] 4.8k

warnings: best friends older brother! mat | oblivious idiots | drinking | kissing | fluff | generally awkward situations | mature themes and dialogue

a/n: the end of 2024, I put out a poll asking which players you wanted to see my write for (that I haven’t done yet) and mat barzal was a clear winner! it took me a hot minute to figure out what I wanted to do for him, but as soon as I settled on this it was a done deal. hope yall love it 🤭

🎵 stargazing by myles smith, messy by renee rapp, wait for you by jake miller, + sparks fly by taylor swift

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

you absentmindedly trace a droplet of condensation, following it's dewy trail as it slowly trickles down your glass bottle of beer.

your friends loud conversation and even louder laughter is all but faded to the background as you fiddle with the bottle in your hands—lost in the smell of the beach still lingering in your air dried hair, and the heat of the bonfire warming your legs from a few feet away.

summer is and always will be your favourite time of year. not necessarily for the overwhelming canadian heat—although, that is a bonus—but rather than for the fact that it's the time of year when everyone gets to be together again.

your friends, who seem to now live all over the place, all come back to toronto for the majority of the summer months every year, without fail. so instead of battling through time changes, uni classes and hockey games, you all rent a place up in muskoka and just be with one another.

the days always consisting of too much sunshine—which inevitably leads to mat getting sunburnt and whining until you're rubbing aloe into his red, crispy skin—sandy toes and the overwhelming smell of chlorine and tanning oil, and nights consisting of s'mores, seltzers and stupid horror movies the guys insist are masterpieces.

it's perfect—and tiring, which means this is the time of night were, combined with three or four beers after a delicious dinner, your vision starts to get a little blurry and you begin curling in on yourself—campfire chair almost buckling in protest.

not that the creaking noises stop you from trying to ball up further though, half tucked under one of the designated bonfire blankets mat keeps in the back seat of his truck.

"truth or dare, y/n?"

liana's half slurred voice pulls you away from your condensation coated beer, and across the fire where your best friend sits, mirroring you position—minus the throw and double the drinks.

she's got an excited glint in her gaze, letting you know that she's enjoying the party game way too much for almost 1 in the morning. but she's not the only one, because most of your friend group is in the same boat.

you take a sharp breath, a playful look of contemplation pulling at your features. shifting slightly in your chair, you wince. "truth?"

liana snorts, "you sound unsure."

"yeah, well after danielle dared austin to chug hot sauce i've been unsure about everything." you physically shiver at the memory of your good friend, and upmost dare devil, turning beat red as the franks red hot coated his throat.

it took him 20 minutes and four glasses of milk to even begin returning to a normal state.

danielle, your other good friend, snickers from behind the rim of her beer next to liana. "okay, dramatic—it was a half a shot." she corrects, shooting you a teasing side eye.

"all the same." you chime, waving dismissively in their direction—lightheartedly and gently, making the two drunk cackle queens almost loose it. and obviously the sound of them laughing gets the group going, because you're all seagulls, truly.

after a giggly beat, liana shushes you between small giggles. "okay, shut up everyone. i'm trying to think."

"god this could take awhile," mat's cheeky remark doesn't go unnoticed by you, half because he's sitting beside you and the other half because he's so far from a whisper that it's almost embarrassing.

but considering one of mat barzal's favourite things in the entire world is annoying his sister, you think his volume level is completely intentional.

"fuck you, mathew." liana spits, her eyes closed and fingers to her temples like she's a physic rather than your best friend trying to conjure up a silly truth or dare question.

the sound of mat's familiar and joyful chuckle has your stomach swirling, your gaze naturally flickering over until you're looking at a sunburnt, eye crinkled smiling mat.

he catches your gaze, and like the cheeky bastard he's always been, mat winks. it's so quick and natural that you almost don't catch it—but who are you kidding? of course you catch it.

because for as long as you can remember, anything your best friends older brother does catches your attention. whether he's simply just walking past you in the barzal childhood house while you're coming back from the bathroom, or throwing popcorn at you from the other end of the couch while liana and his parents aren't looking during movie nights—mat barzal has always been in your head.

it started the day you came home after school with liana—both of you young faced and frizzy hair—and mat was sitting at the kitchen table, homework sprawled out all around him. you remember freezing in the archway, feet stuck to the ground as you stared at a sophomore mat, long grown out hair and braces adorning his face.

you don't remember how long you were caught in the embarrassing, lovey dovey stare, but you do remember the polite smile he sent you, and the elbow liana dug into your ribs to get your attention.

years past and the initial crush you blossomed for mat never dimmed—no, if anything it exploded. for the longest time you couldn't even be close to him without getting flustered, which really wasn't ideal. so with lots of time and practice, you learned to mask it.

which thank god, because otherwise that hot, casually wink would've sent you to an early burial.

your response is lame, because you're just a girl who, although may seem casual about it on the outside, is still freaking out on the inside—you roll your eyes playfully.

it only makes matters worse because mat smirks.

your body flashes with heat. pulling your legs away from your chest, you attempt at crossing your legs underneath the throw blanket, which only gets you tangled in the islanders branded material, before it completely falls to the ground.

before you can even blink, mat is picking up the blanket and covering your legs again. "don't go throwing my precious blanket into the fire now, tater tot." he teases, big hands tucking the blanket between your thigh and the seat. fucking hell.

oh yeah, and of course the torture doesn't just stop there because he's also the only one who calls you tater tot.

tater tot because the very first breakfast you had after a sleepover at the barzal house in 8th grade, you half choked on a tater tot. liana had been too busy snickering and recording your coughing, red face, leaving mat to pat your back until you calmed down.

the most humbling experience of your life, quite possibly.

"thinking about me choking again?" you prompt with a quirked eyebrow, flicking an imaginary piece of lint of the blanket in an attempt to look casual. you look back at mat, "such a perv."

mat takes his bottom lip between his teeth, laughing breathily through the hold. just as he goes to respond, danielle's loud voice echos over the casual conversation of austin and your other friend mark, and the cracking fire.

"oh!" she looks like there's a floating light bulb over her head. "how about..." danielle trails off devilishly, leaning across her navy camp fire chair to cup a hand around lianas ear.

"what?" marcus wheezes, "I feel like that's not allowed."

"technically it is," austin shrugs lazily before taking a slow gulp of his beer, foam sticking to his moustache before he licks it away.

"whatever."

liana gasps loudly, "oh my god, yes!" your best friend, clearly pleased with whatever question danielle has conjured up, sits forward in her chair—looking as if she's trying to bewitch you through the glow of the flames.

you give a half curious, half anxious look as you wait for liana to continue—because of course she paused for dramatic affect.

you already know mat is rolling his eyes at his sisters antics.

"okay, y/n...who did you have a crush on in high school."

the question seems innocent enough to the majority of the group—harmless, even—but you feel like you've just been hit in the head with a damn baseball.

because obviously danielle and liana know about your crush on mat. you can barley keep secrets to save your life, and if you didn't tell someone about the feelings you'd been—still are—harbouring for the eldest barzal sibling, you surely would've imploded.

you're kind of just stuck right now. mouth opening and closing like a fish while your two best friends smirk and laugh across the fire pit.

beside you, mat steals a glance at your side profile, and at the sight of your blank expression, his posture goes ridged. "liana," mat says her name in a warning—in a way that only an older sibling could.

"don't liana me! come on it's a good question." she giggles, a small hiccup following as she falls back into her camping chair, her loose crop top shifting and giving everyone a view of her sparkly belly button piercing.

you can't be mad at her or danielle—or the stupid question, for that matter. you know they're drunk, and they're filter is gone, and they're is no ill intent behind the stupid game. but your heart still pounds and your hands are clamming up like crazy.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to find your words. "it's really not," you half mumble, trying to make your tone as light hearted as possible, as you can feel all your friends curious eyes on you.

mat's eyes on you.

but liana, who is unable to catch the edge to your tone, continues to dig your grave—and this time, coldly shooting you in the process. "y/n, trust me when I say that nobody here cares that you're totally down bad for my brother! just say it."

her words are half slurred and barley audible but it feels like they were screamed from a roof top.

"what did you just say?" mat asks, seeking confirmation to the words that, he too, heard just fine.

but of course he's asking his half way gone sister to repeat herself, because the bomb she just dropped quite literally turned everything on its head.

you don't dare look over at mat. you can't see his face right now, not when you're sure he's in a state of horror while he digests the new elephant in the room—the elephant being your deepest secret, lingering in the air between you all like a pest.

it takes liana one look at your frozen face and tense shoulders for her breath to hitch, falling back into her rickety camp chair again as she realizes what she just blurted out to the entire group.

"wait, fuck my tongue isn't working right," she swallows, guilt lacing her eyes as she blinks hopelessly. "I didn't mean to say that."

the tension lingers in the air, sitting heavy and weaving through the dwindling flames. nobody really knows what to say, especially liana—her sobriety slowly creeping back in as she wallows in further guilt.

you nod in her direction, quick but soft, to let her know that you know you're not mad. fucking mortified and embarrassed, but not mad. you couldn't be. not when it's been the other way around between you both many times—like the time you blurted out that liana had snuck out to meet up with her boyfriend in highschool in front of mat and their mom.

a beat passes before somebody clears their throat awkwardly—austin probably—and then mentions something about roasting spider dogs. it seems to momentarily do the trick, and your friends easily fall back into their usual banter, stabbing raw hot dogs on their wooden sticks to cook.

"i'm gunna grab another drink." you push the throw off your legs, not sparing a glance towards mat as you get off your chair, making the short walk to the sliding back door of the air bnb.

as soon as the door closes behind you, and your left in the silence of the dim kitchen, you cover your face with trembling hands.

"shit," you curse hopelessly, skin burning with embarrassment, "shit, shit, shit."

dragging your hands down your cheeks, you resemble a decaying zombie—hell, you feel like one too. a combination of despair and fear and everything in between sits hot and heavy in your chest, while your best friends playful said words echo through your head.

you didn't look at mat after she practically told him that you're in love with him, for obvious reasons, but you could feel him.

feel the way his spine straightened and his shoulders rolled back in a tense pause. you only picture the way his gaze would’ve narrowed in his sisters direction, plump lips parting in shock as he listened.

he has to be angry, right? or worse, he's not angry but instead he's pitiful. god, the thought of that is somehow worse, and another curse passes through your lips.

you've got use to living in mat's shadows—or so you thought—keeping your feelings for him buried deep down to not upset the steady stream between you, your best friend, and her older brother.

so much hard work from the time you were 13 to now...all for what? for your embarrassing crush to get revealed in a drunken game of truth or dare. a secret that is surely to disrepute the calm of your friendship with mat.

you never wanted messy. and now, here you are.

the door slides open behind you, the sound making you spin on your heels just to see mat enter the kitchen. unfortunately for your already racing heart, mat barzal looks glorious.

his dark hair is at the perfect length to tuck behind his ears, but always falls away because it's not quite long enough. and although he's sunburnt, the colour on his face makes him look beautiful.

he's wearing a pair of board shorts and one of those earth rag sweaters you can buy at carnivals, one that he's given you many times over the years when you're shivering on board walks or sitting on boats without a second thought.

your eyes meet, and you groan, hands falling to your sides in defeat. "oh no, you followed me."

mat walks right up to you, bare feet padding on the tiles because he insists that in the summer he doesn't need shoes—tell that to him everytime you're pulling thorns from the bottom of his foot, which inevitably happens at least once a summer.

his brows draw down towards his nose, like he can't believe the words that came out of your mouth—as if those are the words he can't believe out of everything he's heard tonight.

"of course I followed you," mat says, tone his usual mixture of firm but also toeing the line of playful.

confusion bubbles in your veins, eyes narrowing on his seemingly calm and carefree expression as he looks at you. looking at you how he always does—like your friendship just didn't get pushed off the deep end.

"are you mad?"

mat's furrow deepens, but the faintest ghost of a smile graces his mouth. "why would I be mad?"

your lips part, close, and part again as you attempt to collect your scrambled thoughts. you quickly cross you arms—some kind of defensive attempt that only feels silly, because hello? it's mat—and just as fast they're back at your sides.

and then, the scrambled word vomit ensues in the form of a run on, stuttering sentence, if you can even call the words you're hyperventilating out a scentence. "well—because—did you not hear—I used to—"

mat, ever the steady stone in your life, gently cuts you off, big and warm hands squeezing the meat of your biceps. "slow down," he commands gently, "take a breath."

and like a trained puppy, you do—inhaling sharply through your nose and letting it all out in a shaky exhale through your lips, mat's hands on your body for the entirety of it, which you're chalking up to him just being too kind for his own good.

he nods approvingly, "okay good. now, one thing at a time y/n. my minds kind of all over the place here." mat admits with a breezy chuckle, knees bent just enough so he's peering into your eyes.

it makes your knees feel weak.

"your minds all over the place?" you repeat incredulously, "my deepest secret was just spewed out—a secret that very much involves you, by the way—and now i'm totally freaking out."

despite mat's firm grip on your arms, you manage to drag a hand down your face again, a high pitched whine muffled beneath your palm as you do so. after a pause, you look back into his gentle gaze, "i've definitely creeped you out, haven't I? I mean, god this is just the worst."

he shakes his head, "you could never creep me out ."

"well you should be creeped out," you breathe lightly, "hell, you should be scared, mat. seriously this is like stalker level type shit."

"it's not," he laughs.

you gnaw the inside of your cheek, "this is the part were you let me down, right?"

mat takes a deep breath, "y/n."

"oh god...just say it. I've had enough drinks for the guy i've had a crush on since the 8th grade to reject me so I don’t not curl up in a ball and die." you pause, "actually, that may still happen I haven't decided yet-"

"y/n."

the way he says your name has you pausing.

you swallow, throat bobbing anxiously. "mat."

"just....stop rambling and hear me out for a second, okay?"

you groan, fully ready to get rejected and spend the rest of your life pretending it never happened. you can already picture it—mat, happy on his wedding day with some model blonde, while you sit in a meaningless row. watching. single. and very much still in love with your best friends older brother.

regardless, you nod. "okay."

mat's eyes dart all over your face, assessing every single part of your expression. you barley notice the way he's looking at you, not when you can feel his fingers pulsing on your arms.

he licks onto his bottom lip, a hushed curse following suit as mat pulls his arms off your skin.

you want to frown, but you refrain, focusing your attention on mat as he grips the back of his burnt, thick neck. he looks almost distressed? or maybe nervous? and it makes you want to comfort him. god, even on the brink of rejection you still want to coddle the man.

after a beat, mat's hands falls back to his sides, eyes meeting yours once again. he doesn't look anxious for himself, but rather for you—and that only makes you want to spiral.

but then—

"If I was to tell you that i’m in love with you, would that freak you out or could we talk about it?"

you blink.

and blink again.

"I—what—you? are you kidding? I—don't know—mat."

"this feels a lot like you freaking out."

"no! i'm as cool as a cucumber," the way your voice cracks says otherwise.

mat snickers, because he doesn't need your voice to crack for him to know that you're most definitely freaking out. "yeah, okay cause that's so you."

he takes a step impossibly closer to you, toes almost touching yours.

your breath catches, head tilting back so you're able to keep eye contact. "mat..." it's a warning from you, one that says if he's not serious about this, he needs to stop.

but mat doesn't stop. he doubles down.

"I love you, y/n."

you shiver and press a shaky hand to the center of your forehead, attempting to at least ground yourself. "what the actual hell is going on right now?" you mutter to yourself.

"breathe baby."

the pet name slips off mat's tongue so easily that his words have the opposite affect on you—you're so far past trying to breathe that you're on the brink of dying.

"oh my god, i'm going to pass out."

he laughs again, breezy and light. "you're not."

"I'm not sure about that."

mat gently takes ahold of your face, keeping your chin tilted upwards and in his direction. "hey...." he trails off, a playful edge to his tone and a boyish smile pulling at his lips.

you are so confused that you may just die. "hi?"

"I love you."

you swallow thickly, your mouth so dry that it feels like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. "yeah, I got that part," you croak.

"you going to say it back? or are you just going to keep babbling like a fish?"

"a fish?! i'm not a fish."

"it's okay," he shrugs, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone—just once, as if he's trying not to startle you. "you're a cute fish."

shuddering a breath and skin heating up under mat's touch, you gently shake your head—perhaps in disbelief, or perhaps obliviousness. regardless, you keep your wide, glassy eyes open, peering up at mat with a combination of doubt and optimism.

"I still can't tell if you're being serious or if this is some kind of weird dare they've put you up to."

"I would never joke about something like this." mat says quickly, voice hard and leaving no room for argument.

but being the worry wart you are, you can't help but to narrow your gaze, a sure look of skepticism crawling across your face. a look that mat clearly registers, because he's letting out a little sigh—one that's not irritated, but rather knowing.

because mat knows you, and he knows you need to hear him say that he loves you without actually saying those three words.

"okay," he starts hopefully, "what if I told you that i've loved you since you used to wear those above the knee plaid shorts when you were 13. and when your hair used to always be in tangles because you didn't like people brushing it. i've loved you since you asked me to peel your orange for you because the smell on your hands drove you up the wall—it still does."

your jaw goes slack, "oh."

"yeah," mat grins, "oh."

even if you didn't realize it back then, your best friends older brother was looking at you—paying attention to you, in a way most people don't. he remembers your clothes, and your hair and your distaste for the smell of citrus.

but it's more than that. it always has been.

it's mat keeping a blanket in the backseat of his truck because you are always cold, and it's him teaching you the perfect way to toast your marshmallow when you were 14 during a camping trip you took with the barzal family—his knee is touching yours and the fire not being the only reason you’re hot.

it's the first day of summer, swimming in the pool with mat while liana fills up a pitcher of lemonade inside when you were 16, and mat tugging on your wet hair playfully.

it's coming home from the bar on your 19th birthday and piling into a car full of your friends, and mat letting you sit on his lap once you noticed that all the seats are taken.

it’s mat always buying your ice cream, and walking on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road—without second thought—and it's him playing your favourite music anytime he's on aux so that he can hear you sing along.

"that long?" you ask tentatively, wringing out your fingers hopelessly in between your bodies  

mat hums, "mhmm hmph."

it's mat crashing your first date with a few of his buddies when you were 15, embarrassing you at the movie theatre until you started tearing up. then immediately feeling bad, and buying you almost one of every treat at the concession stand.

it's mat never approving of your crushes or boyfriends—turning his nose down at them and bumping their shoulders with his roughly on the way by.

it's him warding off every guy at school to stay away from you.

"oh god," you groan, "i'm so stupid."

“you're not stupid.” mat reassures you like it’s second nature. and perhaps it is.

it’s mat making sure that you know it’s your ex-boyfriends loss when they ghost you or leave you stranded at a stupid high school party.

it’s mat who ensures that your skirt isn’t too short, and if some sleaze makes a comment—‘he can fight.’

it’s your best friends older brother who has truly, unarguably loved you all along.

you let out a pathetic laugh, “I should've realized.”

he grins, all boyish and with all his teeth—the sight of that teasing look makes your heart flutter. “you were too infatuated with me to realize.”

“mat!”

he laughs, all loud and proud, head thrown back and exposing the thick column of his throat. “It was soooo obvious by the way,” mat continues to tease once he looks back at you, grin unwavering.

“please,” you beg loosely, eyes fluttering close as you head drops foreword, a lame attempt at hiding from him. “i'm already embarrassed as it is.”

but mat isn’t done—obviously. “always staring at me, and laughing at my shitty jokes. sitting beside me whenever you could.” naturally, he tilts your face back up, giving you a nice view of the admiration swimming in his gaze. “it was so fucking cute. made me wanna kiss you all the time.”

the admission has you feeling shy and flustered, but you don’t back down. not anymore. not when mat barzal is looking back at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars—like you’re the most important thing in his life.

“yeah, well I did all that because I liked when you would tease me, and pinch my leg when you thought no one was looking.”

he nods, once. “I know.”

a beat passes with no words spoken between you. the only thing to be heard is the dull laughter and voices of your friends outside and the consistent humming of the refrigerator in the corner.

you’re still looking at one another, all timid, nervous smiles and loose limbs—glassy eyes for a different reason than tears.

it’s you who breaks the comfortable, belly swooping quiet with a breathy, excited sound. “you're holding my face in your hands! I can't believe this is happening right now.”

mat quirks an eyebrow in question, “this feels like the beginning of another freak out,” he states, “is it another freak out?”

“no.” you say all to quickly.

he grins, “yeah, I think it might be. don't freak out baby-“

“oh my god—baby!”

“it's just me and you,” mat ignores your babble, soothing you with his voice, “nothing has changed.”

“expect that you love me now,” you remind him.

“I told you that i've always loved you, so no, nothings changed—expect now you just know about it.”

it’s then, with those reaffirming words, you realize that you've never been uncomfortable around mat. or scared. or truly embarrassed—not even with this entire situation. because here you are, speaking freely regardless of the circumstances without a second thought. because he's still mat. your mat. never judging or dismissive, and always patient and a listener. and don’t tell liana, but mat barzal is your best friend.

and that, combined with all missed signals and signs from mat, going as far back as you can remember, that you know that he loves you.

and it may of taken you more than a decade to notice—and with a more than a nudge from him—but you’re here now.

“you love me.”

a slow, lazy smirk grows on mat’s face. “I do.”

“I love you.”

“you do.”

“oh my god.” you mutter with disbelief.

“okay, now take a deep breath for me.”

“what? why?”

“because i'm going to kiss you.”

you blink and open and close your mouth like a baby bird—completely taken back, in the best, hottest possible way. “fuck me,” you curse in shock.

“not right now baby.” mat’s sly remark comes instantly, already leaning in, in search of the lips he’s been thinking about kissing since he was 15.

“god, you're such a loser—“

his mouth is on yours before you can even finish your sentence, and you accept the interruption with open arms. your hands catch up before you mind does, moving on their own accord and sliding up mat’s strong chest, over his collarbones until your cupping his neck.

mat smiles against your lips at the feeling of your nails digging into his sunburnt neck, and your tongue easily gliding with his. one of mat’s hands makes home against the back of your head, scratching at your scalp absentmindedly while his other hand drags you closer.

it’s smooth, and easy and perfect.

it’s just you and mat, held together but the same thing that’s always had you drawn to one another.

undeniable love.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 1)

masterlist

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.

a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!

wc: 5.5k

warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff

Your fingers were beginning to cramp. 

You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.

He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible. 

Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through. 

Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether. 

You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner. 

“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.” 

The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time. 

Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it. 

You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name. 

Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal. 

“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk. 

“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.” 

His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.  

“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”

“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”

Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”

“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”

Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?

That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over. 

“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”

“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”

You blinked. He would do this to you.

Why would he do this to you?

“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”

You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?

“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”

“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”

Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”

“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?” 

“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?” 

“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.” 

“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”

“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”

“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”

“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”

You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”

“You’d be correct.”

You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”

He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours. 

“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”

You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.” 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.” 

“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.” 

He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.” 

“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.” 

“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.” 

Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back. 

Oh, how you loathed group projects. 

-

The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong. 

You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted. 

“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.” 

“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.” 

“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.” 

“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.” 

Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.” 

You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.” 

She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.” 

“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.” 

“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.” 

“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.” 

“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.” 

Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away. 

He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it. 

“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?” 

Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed. 

“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.” 

Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.” 

“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?” 

“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”

“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?” 

“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.” 

“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said. 

Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!” 

“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.” 

“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.” 

“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.” 

That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing. 

He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you. 

He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more. 

He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there. 

Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.

-

True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.

You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together. 

Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless. 

Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled. 

“Sorry. You were in the zone.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”

“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”

“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said. 

“I know my way around a lot of things.” 

You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”

“I’m sure I could make it one.”

“If you bothered to think at all.”

“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”

“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled. 

“I have more important things to worry about,” he said. 

You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.

“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”

“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”

“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”

“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”

“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed. 

“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”

“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”

You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you. 

You frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead. 

“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.

Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”

Your frown deepened. “Really?”

“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”

“Just you.”

“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”

“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”

“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?” 

“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”

“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”

“What are you majoring in?” you asked.

“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”

“Not really a surprise,” you said. 

“Really?”

“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.” 

“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.” 

“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.” 

He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?” 

“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.” 

“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.” 

You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent. 

“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?” 

You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.” 

“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.” 

“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.” 

“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.” 

Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?” 

He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!” 

“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?” 

Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.” 

You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”

“Utterly charming?” 

“Entirely insufferable.”

You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him. 

“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.

“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.” 

“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?” 

“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.” 

“Like?” 

“Like my studies.” 

“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?” 

“Ha ha,” you said dryly. 

He tilted his head. “Do you?” 

You frowned. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”

A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected. 

“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”

Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”

Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”

“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”

You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”

“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.” 

“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.” 

“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.” 

“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.” 

“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.” 

“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.” 

Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.” 

“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked. 

“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften. 

“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”

“I don’t have—”

You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”

Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”

He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”

-

You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now. 

Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign. 

Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence. 

You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all. 

But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.

It was nice. But that was all. 

You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.

“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”

He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”

“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”

Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”

“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”

“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”

“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”

He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”

“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?” 

Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?” 

“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.” 

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”

“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming. 

“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed. 

“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.” 

“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?” 

Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.” 

“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”

Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.

“You need a break,” he said. 

“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”

You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?” 

You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.” 

“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.” 

You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand. 

“You need a break.” 

You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look. 

“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly. 

You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”

Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed. 

“Shall we?” he murmured. 

You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you. 

“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast. 

Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”

“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”

He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”

Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile. 

“Yes?”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”

“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”

Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him. 

Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm. 

That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before. 

You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience. 

It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—

You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them. 

You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps. 

“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”

“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”

Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”

“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh. 

There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.

Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep.