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yunhostinyuyu · 4 years ago

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pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

#wow idk why either just go with it #ateez #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez san #choi san #ateez smut #ateez suggestive #san x reader #san x you #san fluff #san smut

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hockeyforthefirsttime · 4 years ago

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Home For Christmas- Mat Barzal

AN: This is no shame, I started this before Christmas with the intention of finishing it as well... bitch I didn’t, so here we are.

Word count: 4k

TW: bad parenting, mentions of cheating, kind of angst? idk

Sitting alone by the kitchen table, you watch the snow fall heavy over the town. You’re supposed to be working on your masters thesis, but your mind is a thousand miles away, 2 185,4 miles to be exact.

And even that far away, Mat is still everywhere to be seen in a town he’s never been in. He’s in the cafe with the really bad coffee and the really good cakes, he’s in the window reflection in the old thrift shop you used to go to when you were younger. And you can imagine him so easily outside on the front porch, playing in the snow.

In all honesty that would be ideal, having him here. But he’s not, he didn’t have the opportunity to come. You understand that. You understand that he’s got his own traditions, family and friends to see.

But when you left JFK to come to the cabin in Alta, you wished that he was by your side, you by his. Instead of the snoring man that sat on your right hand side the entire flight. At least you got the window seat.

Your parents went out to have dinner or visit some friends, you don’t care enough to remember.

All you could think of was how Mat had been babbling about how excited he was for Christmas, and going home. And how you deep inside dreaded coming here. It’s not that your parents don’t love you, they just love the idea of the past you. Mat cares for you a lot, you know that, you’ve settled for that. But you haven’t had the heart to tell him how your parents only care for perfect facades and flaunting their riches. That's also why you haven’t told them about Mat.

The snow is still falling over the perfectly decorated front lawn.

You’re still thinking of Mat and how he would look with rosy cheeks from the cold, when your parents move in through the front door whilst talking in low murmurs.

“Y/N, darling? You’re still awake?”

Your mother asks, not yelling though, never yelling. She waits until she can see you from the hallway.

“Yes, still kind of working.”

You answer politely.

“Oh, you’re still writing your thesis?”

Quickly as she comes around the table, you switch from the spotify tab, to the uni home page.The lie comes smoothly and she doesn’t notice, she never does.

“My little hard worker, you’re gonna be such a good psychiatrist one day.”

And your heart sinks all the way down to your stomach. You’ve never told them that you switched majors three years ago. Or that you’re not writing a dissection of the human mind, but rather a song. As well as a thesis.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to my room.”

Your mom nods at you with what almost resembled a fond smile. Passing your father in the hallway you see him slip something into the pocket of his already hung coat.

“Night sweetheart.”

“Night dad”

You smile half heartedly while balancing your books and laptop in your hands.

No matter how nicely the property is decorated, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be what your parents expect you to be. They are much like their cabin in your opinion, pretty and inviting on the outside, shallow on the inside.

You don’t know how to handle this. Because while you grew up a lot around here, New York feels like your home now. With pictures on the walls and tiny memories littered around the place. The bedroom you’ve always had in the cabin hasn’t changed much since you last were here. Pictures of people you no longer talk to still hang on the vanity you never used.

Crawling underneath the thick duvet, you pull your phone off the charger on your nightstand. There are a few messages on snap chat and instagram you’ve missed. Mostly friends from college, all in their respective homes with their old friends and family.

You close both of the apps, and sigh when you see the wallpaper of your phone. It’s a picture of you and Mat. You’re dressed in a hoodie with his jersey over it and his arms slung around your middle from behind, the both of you smiling at Beau behind the camera. You remember that day.

It was in the early days of your relationship and only the second or third game you had been too of his. The Islanders had played the Rangers and won, Mat scored twice and it was overall a good game. The WAG’s had all started to head for the locker room hallway, while you set your path for the exit, planning on meeting Mat back at his apartment. Lauren was the first to see you trying to sneak out. And had instantly called you out on it. She’s a miracle worker with people, and within seconds she had figured out how scared you were that Mat wouldn’t want you there. After all this was a team win, and you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of the team. Not yet at least.

And despite your fears, Lauren convinced you that he would love to see you first thing as he exited. And he had been. His already beaming face had swept you up in his strong arms and spun you around. Mat truly was and still is at times more excitable than a puppy.

-----

You wake up abruptly from someone yelling. That someone you quickly recognize as your father's voice. And your heart drops, even though the words are muffled, you can imagine the scene. Your mother, sitting at the kitchen table, in the same spot as you sat last night, telling him to calm down and stop yelling. Your father pacing in front of her, screaming about something you can’t quite figure out what is yet. He is obviously ignoring her.

Picking your phone up from the mattress as you sit up, there doesn’t seem to be anything new. You enter the messages app and shoot Mat a message, telling him to call you in thirty minutes.

With a sigh, you pull the warm, comfortable duvet off yourself and drag your body out of the bed. Everything in the room seems a little colder, and you know it’s probably because of the badly isolated windows. That’s probably why the cool floorboards tickle your feet when you step on them. Luckily there is a pair of thick socks on the floor next to the bed, so you pull them on and walk to the door.

Carefully you let the door creep open silently.

“- and why couldn’t you just leave it be?”

You hear your father yelling.

“Because you’re my husband and I love you, you’re not supposed to have a second phone, much less a second girlfriend.”

Immediately your stomach sinks. Your dad has a mistress? Then it was probably the second phone he slipped into the coat pocket last night. God, christmas spirit, eh? You shut the fight out of your mind instantly, not wanting this to be your christmas. In this moment you hate all the bad hallmark movies you’ve watched with Mat. Not for having watched them, but for letting them give you hope of a normal christmas.

On autopilot, you start packing the bag you never finished unpacking. It takes fifteen minutes for you to finish. Your phone starts ringing as soon as you zip the back shut. With a deep sigh you answer the phone.

“Hi Mat.”

“Hey, babe. You okay?”

You can hear laughter in the background and the smile in his voice. You hate yourself for the next words.

“No, not really.”

The admittance lies heavy in your chest, but some of the weight seems to lift off when you speak the feelings into existence.

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?”

It's like the world disappears for a minute, and just hearing his voice calms you down.

“No, I don’t think so, I just don’t think I can handle this right now. ��M just gonna head home to my apartment. I can’t take my parents right now.”

It’s a relief to get the words out of your mouth and into existence. You can imagine him right now, with the cute frown on his face and the cogs and wheels in his brain turning.

“Hold on, you’re not gonna spend christmas morning alone are you?”

“Why not? It’s not really different from what I’m used to, and it’s already the 23rd today anyway.”

“That gives you just enough time to fly here!”

Your heart soars at the thought of waking up with Mat in his childhood home, but reason strikes you seconds later.

“Mathew, I’m not gonna intrude on your family like that.”

The sigh he releases on the other end of the phone, is followed by a small chuckle.

“You’re not intruding. I promise. Plus they all love you.”

------

You order an uber straight after calling Mathew. When you open the door to your bedroom, the yelling still hasn’t stopped. The log walls have always been pretty soundproof, but you swear, right now there is an echo in the house. Silently you close the door behind you. Your dad is still ranting on about how none of this is his fault, and how some things women simply don’t understand.

You sigh and take off your shoes to make your steps even quieter than usual.It’s not that your father isn’t kind, it’s just that he seems to have been too kind to another woman. And it puts a great deal of fear into your heart. It makes you scared that Mat might do the same.

You shake the thought (almost) out of your head, Mat is not your father, and you are not your mother. Still, you can’t help but feel like your mother deserves better. Leaning against the door frame, you pull up your phone and start scouring the web.

The uber app alerts you of your rides arrival, and you go into your travel backpack and pull out a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly you write down the number and name of both a divorce lawyer and a couples therapist. Your coat is already on and your bag doesn't have wheels, so it’s a silent endeavour to the other bedroom in use on this floor. Your parent’s room.

It looks like it always has. Everything is neatly put behind closed doors and the bed is perfectly made. No knick knacks on the bedside table, not even a book or an alarm clock. You sigh, put the note on your mothers side of the bed and leave.

You’re glad the kitchen doesn ‘t have a clear view of the hallway, your parents are too immersed in their fight, to notice the fact that their child is slipping through their fingers. They don’t notice you walking away from them.

------

The airport is not so surprisingly filled only with stragglers and people who are most likely working this christmas. The pine trees are decorated and everywhere, but you don’t feel as sick to your stomach as you usually do. Quickly you find your gate. It’s got a great view and you watch the snow fall under the lights of the airport and sip the holiday drink you uncharacteristically got from the coffee shop beside the gate. You have already checked in the luggage, so yet again you pull out a pen, but also a worn and torn leather bound notebook that’s been with you since the start of your degree.

The songs usually come from poems but somehow this one is different. You start the melody quickly, writing down notes and sometimes little words that you feel make sense with the melody. Your hands start to itch for the ivory and ebony keys of a piano, but just as the feeling arrives the flight attendant calls up your flight and you have to pack up.

The plane is only half full, so you get a row to yourself. Resting your feet across the two free seats is a little uncomfortable, you’ll admit as much, but the feeling of having the piano at least on your computer is settling some of the itch.

-----

Mat comes alone to pick you up from the airport. He’s standing in the parking lot leaning against his car. The second he hears you approaching he looks up from his phone, pockets it and meets you halfway. Immediately he hugs you tight.

“Hi babe, I missed you.”

He says with a low voice into the scarf wrapped around your neck. You just hug him tighter. The tension that took a hold of your body during the layover, is releasing from your body. Mat’s entire being is like a weighted blanket covering you.

When he lets you go, you miss his warmth, but it’s short lived. He picks up the bag you dropped to the snow covered ground and puts in the trunk before opening the passenger door for you. Upon entering the car, you are engulfed in everything Mat and warmth.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with your family?”

You sigh at the question, knowing it was going to come sooner or later. To be honest you’re glad he asked now, and not back home, back with his family. It’s just, how do you explain the entire messy situation to Mat, without getting pity points? You don’t want to feel like some charity case or, even worse, like some spoilt child who can’t handle the situation.

Instead of dwelling over it for too long, you decide to jump into it as he starts the car and enters the freeway.

“My dad is cheating on my mom, and she found out last night. I think they were up the entire night just arguing. I just left a note on mom’s bed with the number of both a divorce lawyer as well as a couples therapist.”

You rant off, state it matter of factly. Trying to shut off your emotions.

“Are you okay Y/N?”

Mat asks. Simple as that. He asks you if you’re okay, and you can’t quite handle it. The tears are pressing on behind your eyes. And you look out the window, trying to hold them back. But when he puts a hand on your thigh, you let the first tear fall.

“No.”

And it really is as simple as that. You’re not okay. And you hate it. Just in that second your phone starts ringing in your back pocket.

“Sorry.”

You say as Mat looks at you. He just gives you a soft smile. You check the caller id, and see it’s your mom. Quickly you clear your throat and wipe your tears away.

“Hello mom.”

You answer, trying to sound neutral.

“Y/N, where are you? Did you go to one of your friends here? I can’t find any of your things.”

She sounds confused to be honest.

“Yeah no, I left, I’m on my way to my boyfriend’s house.”

You hear her suck in a breath. Probably trying to calm down. You do the same, hoping for a calm conversation.

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend? Where are you?”

You sigh, know it’s gonna be a long conversation.

“No, I know, I didn’t tell you on purpose. He lives in New York usually, but he’s from Canada.”

Ideally, you know, this would be a conversation to have with Mat, about why you haven’t told them about him, before you had it with your mother.

“You’re in Canada?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what does he do then?”

“Mom..”

You start to avoid the question, but she interrupts you.

“No, I want to know what he does that makes you think it’s okay for you to run away from your family right before christmas.”

In that second, just a split second, you get a little fight in you.

“First of all, it wasn’t his call, he invited me, when I called him. Originally I was just gonna go back to New York. Alone. Second of all, I am not interested in spending christmas around you and dad when you can’t figure out your lives. Third of all, he makes me feel safe and appreciated and I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.”

You can feel the tears streaming down your face, but you don’t care.

“Fine, if you are going to be like that then.”

“I am gonna be like this mom.”

“Fine.”

She says, and then she hangs up the phone. And to be honest you’re kind of glad she did.

“That sounded rough.”

You nod and close your eyes. You don’t want things to be this way. You truly don’t, but it the way it is.

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

Mat asks. Possibly sounding hurt.

“No, I was scared that they were gonna be who I know them to be, especially upon finding out that you play hockey for a living.”

He sinks a bit back in the driver’s seat.

“You think they wouldn’t like me?”

He definitely sounds hurt.

“I think they would like your image, your paycheck and what you could do for them publicly.”

You answer earnestly. Before continuing.

“They want a solid paycheck and all the nice things in life. The things that prove that they’ve got a lot of money, and that about sums it up.”

“Oh, well that’s not good.”

Letting out a sad chuckle, you nod your head. You can tell you’re closing up on his house because he seems to be driving slower now.

“I hope you know I’m not into you for the paychecks.”

“No I know-”

He turns and smiles at you.

“You’re in this, for the amazing sex, eh?”

“Oh, for sure.”

You smile and take his hand.

---

Waking up is always kind of heavier in the winter, but with Mat’s arms wrapped around you in the morning, it’s just something else. You fell asleep in one of his hoodies and flannel pj pants. You’ll admit it, it is a bit too warm, but hell it’s so worth it.

You can feel him behind you, bare chest rising slow and steady. Soft snores escape him every now and then, but his arm around your waist stays there. Mindlessly, you start tracing shapes and letters on the back of his hand. You feel his hand start twitching, and all of a sudden he squeezes you tight and pulls you on top of himself.

“I love you too.”

He smiles up at you with his bleary eyes. Your cheeks heat up. You didn’t think he’d actually notice the letters you had been spelling out on his hand. So you hide your face on his shoulder and stay there. Just placing small, light kisses there.

“Can you say it? Like out loud?”

He asks you, quietly.

“That I love you?”

Immediately you feel him smile into your hair.

“I love you Mat Barzal.”

And you swear, you can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Merry Christmas, by the way.”

You say, feeling content. This is by far the best Christmas morning you’ve had, and you haven’t even gotten out of bed.

“Oh shit, it’s Christmas morning!”

And before you know it, the light is on, and he’s out of bed and pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweats. He turns and looks at you expectantly.

“Well, aren’t you coming?”

He asks, moving in your direction. Mat all but drags you out of the bed and barely let’s you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth, before meeting his family downstairs. And it’s a glorious sight that meets your eyes. The christmas tree is decorated with little lights and different colour baubles?, as well as glitter. It looks homemade, and not like the perfectly decorated trees that have made their mark on your childhood.

The sight of it causes you to stop dead in your tracks. God, how you love the normalcy of this. The morning is filled with laughter, jokes and copious amounts of hot chocolate. It’s not until the end of the gift unwrapping, that Mat slips away from you, claiming that he has to go to the toilet.

He returns a few minutes later, carrying a big box wrapped in paper. It doesn’t take you long to notice that all eyes are on you.

“Maty, I told you no gifts.”

You sigh, but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips as you see how giddy he is.

“I know I know, and originally I was going to stick to it, but I saw this in the store and I know you said you’d manage without it, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

And as you listen to him rant his heart out to you, realization dawns on you.

“You didn’t seriously..”

Your sentence trails off as you watch him carefully place the box down on the dinner table.

“Please, just open it?”

And he knows you could never resist his pleading, just as well as you do. Nodding, you head to the table and start unwrapping the way too expensive gift. Soon the logo of the electric keyboard begins to unravel to you, and tears are seriously prickling behind your eyes.You pull the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands and wipe the tears away.

“Mathew, this is seriously the best christmas gift I have ever gotten.”

You mumble. He comes over and wraps you up in his arms again, and you can feel him smiling, how his entire being is happy, and maybe a little proud of himself. His mom and dad gush over how cute the two of you are, whilst Liana rolls her eyes with a fond smile.

“Well, why don’t you play us something sweetie?”

Mats mother asks you carefully once you unwrap yourself from Mat.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

And just like that the living room is cleared enough for you to set up the keyboard along with a chair from the kitchen. You even go back upstairs and find the chords you have written down for the song you wrote in the airport.

Testingly, you play a few chords. That is the moment you notice how quiet they’ve all gotten, so you decide to speak up, just to shake the nerves a little.

“Okay, so this is kind of a rushed song, I wrote it on my way here, but I do hope you like it.”

And then you start playing the first notes. You do love how the keys seem to find their way to you right away, like you’ve been playing this keyboard for a long time already. And then the words spill from your mouth. And you just sing.

Careful what you say

This time of year

Tends to weaken me

And have a little decency

And let me cry in peace

But there's a place where I

Erase the challenges I've been through

Where he knows every corner

Every street-name

All by heart

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home for Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home for Christmas

Let me find home this year

I'll pack my bags

And leave before the sun rises tomorrow

'Cause we act more like strangers for each day

That I am here

But I have someone close to me

Who never will desert me

Who remind me frequently

What I I can truly be

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I don't know what my future holds

But I know who will love me

I can’t tell you where I'm from

But this one loved me to life

And so it is a part of my

Courageous plan to leave

With a broken heart

Tucked away under my sleeve

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

I wanna find home this Christmas

Let me find home this year

Playing the finishing keys, you look up from the keys, and see both Liana and Nadia smiling through a few tears. Mike is holding his wife close as he smiles at you. But Mat, he looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky.

Quickly you get up from the chair and wrap your arms around his neck. Closing your eyes, just letting yourself be completely enveloped in him.

For a second though, he pulls slightly away, just enough so he can look you in the eyes.

“I love you so much, and you’ll always have a home with me.”

Your heart swells ten times bigger than what your chest is made to encompass.

“I know. I love you too.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal fic #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #new york islander fic #new york islanders blurb #nhl imagine #nhl new york islanders #nhl fic #nhl blurb

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renegadeontherunn · 3 years ago

Note

19 for the prompts if you haven’t receive it yet <3

of course jas my beloved!!!! thank you so much for the ask <3333

19. "You were supposed to be there." // from these prompts! // read it on ao3!

The Force is just as surprised as they are.

So when a flash of orange darts around the corner accompanied by two white blurs, Anakin and Obi-Wan don’t even get the chance to blink in appropriate surprise before they’re on the ground. A knock to Obi-Wan’s head and in the delay, his wrists are bound with Force suppressors. He half crumples when they make the fatal click, strength, peace, power smothered under frigid metal.

Ahsoka almost feels bad.

Almost.

The real pain comes after weeks in those horrible cuffs, the hole in your head, in the air, where your whole life used to reside growing sharper, hungrier, darker. But Obi-Wan will understand that soon enough. Just like she had.

“Ahsoka?”

It’s Anakin—isn’t it always?—and his voice is dripping with shock. One of the guards Ahsoka had taken with her on this little hunt, Cross, has Anakin’s arms wrenched behind his back, but the Force suppressors still dangle from his belt. Ahsoka is banking on Anakin’s confusion, his attachment, to keep him weak. She can’t take that same chance with Obi-Wan.

“Ahsoka you—you’re here.” His eyes are wide like a child’s, and Ahsoka can practically see all the things he wants to say crowding behind his tongue. “What’s going on? Are—are you alright?”

It’s been months since she’s seen either of them and when she’d trudged down the steps of the Temple this was certainly not how she’d expected their reunion to go. A small part of Ahsoka, the part that’s still the other one, grips her ribs and screams to be let out. To reach out to her Master, her brother, to slip back into the spot between him and Obi-Wan where she’d fit so well for years. Her throat grows tight. Ahsoka despises her. And so she leans harder on the Force like she’s been taught and hopes the voice—voices—will die out in agony. Starting with his.

“Ahsoka?”

Obi-Wan hasn’t spoken yet. Silence is a weapon too and Ahsoka doesn’t appreciate such chilling indifference. She remembers why she’s here. Not to talk or back down or weep. She’s here to kill.

She takes a soft step forward and almost like he knows what’s coming, Anakin starts struggling against the guard, trying to push himself to his feet, words tumbling out of his mouth. “Ahsoka, wait, wait, wait, what’s—what’s going on?” Thunder cracks low in the sky and it’s only then that Ahsoka notices the enormous hole blown out of the Temple hallway. Smoke blackens the night sky and shrieking sirens collide with the screaming Force. “Ahsoka?”

She can tell he’s trying to ignore the flashing gold of her eyes, but he can’t look past the blood-red beam of light that ignites from her saber. Ahsoka has never seen him more in denial, more heartbroken than he is kneeling before her now. Her ever-sure steps stutter and to compensate, she digs down into her rage. Anger keeps her strong, keeps her fighting, it shields her from the weakness that love or pity or regret will sink her to.

“Ahsoka, stop!” Her hand is already shaking on her lightsaber hilt. Ahsoka strikes Anakin across the face, her metal-laden fist cutting a line of blood down his cheek. She’s never preferred such hands-on combat, two lightsabers and her agility give the distance and speed she needs to fight, but rage—and it’s rage, she tells herself, not sorrow, not grief, not guilt—is weighing her down.

That’s fine. Power can be a million things and so can Ahsoka.

The need to adapt has been forced on her by the very people Anakin and Obi-Wan are trying to protect, and it’s always good to give back.

She realizes she’s still hitting him. Anakin’s face is awash in blood—Ahsoka doesn’t know what’s his and what’s from her own knuckles. She looks at the guard and he releases him. Anakin stumbles back and up, heads outstretched in front of him. He wipes his face, clearing as much of the blood as he can and his lightsaber is ignited a shaky breath later. Obi-Wan might be saying something at last, but it’s lost as Ahsoka bounds toward Anakin. She lets instinct and primal, brutal fury take over. Their sabers clash.

Later, when Ahsoka has cried and screamed and torn apart her new quarters on Coruscant, she won’t remember what happened. All of a sudden, she’s towering over Anakin, both their lightsabers gone. She’s mildly surprised when she realizes she was actually able to best him, then scolds herself for not having faith in her new teachings. A swift kick to Anakin’s ribs leaves him gasping, and Obi-Wan is definitely saying something, but Ahsoka knows she’s far from vindicated.

“Ahsoka, stop,” comes Anakin’s voice, strong as it is quiet. “Please. Listen.” His eyes are bright blue through the bruises, the blood, and Ahsoka has always folded first. She squeezes her eyes shut and stumbles away, tearing apart whatever vile emotions swarm her.

The Force is dark and stormy around her, suffocating, but powerful. It blocks out the pain, the grief, the failure Ahsoka feels, and she clings to it.

Anakin is standing, one hand clutching his ribs, when she looks up again. His hands are reaching for her. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, we will fix it.”

Furious tears race down her face. “You can’t stop this!”

Ahsoka wants to scream. She wants to scream because this is hard, far harder than she’d expected. The Jedi are wrong, the Jedi are evil, she’s had more than enough experience to understand that. How many times has she heard their immeasurable list of crimes, how they abandoned their own principles and people, their own children. Words flicker through her memory. “The rift in the galaxy is not our fault.”

But Ahsoka has learned that it is.

Given the right circumstances, a little education, nudging (pressure—torture—part of her brain cries) by the right people (the wrong people—don’t you see, child?—this is all wrong) and here she is. And here they are.

And she has a score to settle.

Ahsoka grits her teeth, taloned nails cutting crescents in her palms.

There will be justice, there will be recompense, and by her hand.

She looks into the eyes of her old Master and it’s like looking into the past. There’s that sick feeling in her chest again and Ahsoka crushes it, pushing down until something shifts and then snaps, sharp shards of glass cleaving her ribcage.

Ahsoka raises one shaking arm and chokes him with the Force, his feet drifting off the ground, back pressed hard against the wall. Though she’s never done it herself, she’s seen it from Anakin plenty of times and Ahsoka now understands the fury he wields that’s always surprised her.

His hands scrabble against his throat, desperate stare pleading, trying to reach her.

Something burns her eyes. Her fist tightens. “You were supposed to be there!”

The words tear through her, ripping the already scarred air. Months of unsaid words choked back swell, clogging her throat, and she can barely breathe past the broken syllables. With another yell that scrapes her insides raw, she throws Anakin down on the other side of the room. They both gasp for breath. Obi-Wan has stopped talking.

Anakin pushes himself up on a shaking arm, eyes darting straight to Ahsoka’s crumbling facade. Salt stings her lips.

The guard—Ahsoka thinks his name is Double—shoves Obi-Wan down beside Anakin, and his bound hands immediately go to Anakin’s trembling shoulder. Mumbled questions fall from his tongue, panic twisting his tone. Anakin’s eyes never leave Ahsoka’s.

“You were supposed to be there.”

The words are quiet, rough, homesick notes barely speaking through her tears.

Obi-Wan’s head whips over his shoulder, grey eyes too hard to read, and Ahsoka decides he’s never looked at her with anything but ice.

Hell has frozen over and so have they.

Anakin is openly crying, his gaze melted into waves of sorrow meeting Ahsoka’s gold-eyed shore. Obi-Wan has always been a glacier. Icicles prick his cheeks.

Biting rage sears Ahsoka’s chest. She doesn’t care what it takes; she’ll burn this Temple to ash just to feel the thaw.

Injured as he is, angry as she is, Anakin is too easily thrown when Ahsoka coaxes the Force to her will. Obi-Wan reaches for him, helpless, his hands useless under those cuffs. Anakin flies back, his shoulder clipping the side of the hole in the wall, and he tumbles off the edge. Ahsoka rushes forward, for a moment scared she’s killed him, but his hand—his metal hand—is digging into the rim of the hole, just barely holding on. The metal creaks.

It’s not a far drop, not enough to kill him anyway, and Ahsoka doesn’t know if she’s disappointed or relieved. She tries to be disappointed. Rain beats down against his face, but his eyes are bright blue when they look up at her.

She sees his lips move, hears the faint notes of his voice—something like I’m sorry, something like please—but the clouds scream over whatever he’s trying to say. Ahsoka looks away. Something is on fire out there, even in the storm, and the horizon is darkened by smoke.

“Ahsoka.”

Her head automatically jerks down to meet his imploring gaze. That sorrow again, that guilt, worst of all, that hope. Both halves of her howl with the roaring rain.

“I’m here now.”

You were supposed to be there.

“I’m here.”

Ahsoka can’t tell what’s rain and what’s tears on Anakin’s face, can’t tell the same on her own. She looks behind her at Obi-Wan, for reasons she doesn’t bother to understand, and sees him struggling against the guard harder than ever. She wonders what he would do if he was free, almost calls for his release just to see.

But she has already spent too long here, made too many mistakes. The weak part of her has grown louder, and she needs time to smother it completely.

Ahsoka looks down at Anakin again, salty tears biting through her gritted teeth. She calls her lightsaber to her hand, hovering it just next to his face, barely searing the edge of his skin. The red glow makes him look dead already.

“I could do it.”

Then she tears herself away, turning into the shadowed warmth of the Dark Side.

It’s a disappointment, it’s a failure, it’s a relief drowned by wrath at having allowed these parts of her past to live. Obi-Wan shudders to his feet, bleary eyes panicked as he rushes to Anakin, Double and Cross now dutifully following Ahsoka out. There’s sounds of struggle, movement, shifting robes. Ahsoka can almost picture Obi-Wan’s strong grip, Anakin hauling himself back up into the Temple, hair sopping, water pooling down around them. It’ll stain the stone. If it survives that long.

By the time Anakin pulls trembling limbs up, his mind still shaking off frigid rain, raw betrayal, chilling hurt, Ahsoka is already gone.

#fiona speaks #HEHEHEHEHEHE #ALL I KNOW IS ANGST #thank you for the ask jas!!!!#i hope you like it!!!#this was very fun to write mwahahahaha #disaster lineage #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #proofreading this was just me going yikes....YIKES #ASDJKSDA;LASJK #my writing #answered #jas tag!#and thank you to katie for the guard name assistance akdjajfka very much appreciated!!#i’m not totally happy with this one but yeah!

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 5 years ago

Text

you say you hate me

summary: four times you were forced to spend time with Matthew plus one time you chose to.

warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing

word count: 7.2k

note from the writer: is it bad that I’ve already started another Matt fic? also this gif is *chef’s kiss* amazing

ONE

You knew you ran the risk of running into him when you moved from St. Louis to Calgary. But you couldn’t pass up the job opportunity you were given, even if it meant you were looking over your shoulder as if to avoid running into him.

But after three months of living in Calgary you hadn’t seen him, so you were certain you were in the clear. You reasoned that he would’ve popped up sooner, you followed each other on Instagram and have each other added on Snapchat, so you knew that he knew you were in Calgary. You pushed him to the back of your mind, though, not wanting him to take up any more residence in your mind than he already did. And after a while you figured you were safe from his presence and any headaches that seemed to follow him around.

So imagine your surprise when he shows up while you’re in the middle of a date.

Chris is a nice guy. It’s your third date, and the bar he’s taken you to is a little more on the casual side, but the Edmonton vs. Canucks game was on the television above the bar and you knew he was a big hockey guy.

Clearly, you had a type.

“So, I think my boss is going to give me a big project, which would be a huge step in the right direction for the promotion I—” You were gushing about the news you had received earlier in the day, but you were unable to finish your thought as Chris yelled.

“Oh, fuck off, Mcdavid! You should have scored that.”

After realizing that he wasn’t talking about your ability to buy a goal or calling you McDavid, you learned two things about the man sitting across from you. One, he hadn’t been listening to a single word you were saying and you could count on the hockey game being more interesting to him than anything you could have said. You should have known, anyways, on your first date he spent five whole minutes talking about how the Oilers were his favorite team after you mentioned you grew up in St. Louis. And two, he was that kind of hockey fan. The kind that tore down their team’s top players over any little screw-up. The kind that made your skin crawl after having grown up with the sport.

“It was a rookie mistake.” Chris’ attention turned to you since it was a T.V. timeout and you blinked at him for a moment, wondering just how your night took a downturn so quickly. The bar was so low, and he managed to limbo under it.

“McDavid. Rookie mistake?” You blanched, propping your chin on your hand as you waited to see what kind of bullshit excuse he funneled at you. He stuttered over his words, and you were about to interject with a very well laid out explanation about how players were people and able to make mistakes without having their skill questioned. Plus, it was McDavid.

But then a hand landed casually on your shoulder, and your first instinct was to turn and face whoever decided it was a good idea to randomly touch with a scowl. Your frown only deepened when you spotted who it was, completely ignoring the choked noise Chris made.

Of course he had to show up on the one night you were on a date.

“Couldn’t hide from me forever.” Matt drawled easily, removing his hand from you and leaning against the edge of the tall table you were sitting at. You rolled your eyes, not at all surprised at the fact that he decided to start the first actual conversation you’ve had with him in weeks with a tease.

“I’ll try harder next time.” You stated dryly, taking a sip of your nearly empty drink and avoiding the gaze of both men around you. Well, Chris was too busy eyeing Matthew and puffing out his chest as if he was trying to assert his dominance. Please.

You didn’t get the appeal of Matthew. Sure, he was attractive and pretty good at hockey, not that you’d ever admit that to anyone, but he was a pest. He grew up next door to you, which meant the better part of your childhood was spent at the mercy of Matt’s teasing. You adored the rest of his family, you had a four-hundred and thirty-six day Snapchat streak with Taryn, a number seven Senators jersey hanging up in your closest, Chantal’s number was saved as ‘mama tkachuk’ in your phone, and you had once called Keith in a panic when you were sixteen and got a flat tire and your parents weren’t answering.

Matt had laughed at you when you stumbled walking across the stage at graduation.

You were not his biggest fan.

“Hot date?” Matt questioned, not even looking over to Chris who nodded the moment the words entered the air. You winced at the question, because you were technically on a date, but you weren’t exactly feeling it, especially after what had just transpired. But you would marry Chris on the spot if it meant annoying Matt.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke through gritted teeth, plastering on a forced and obviously fake smile. Matt grinned at you, his mischievous look that you had seen a thousand times growing up that warned you that he was going to do something to get under your skin made warning alarms flash in your mind.

Your suspicions were proven correct when he reached a hand up to ruffle your hair before slipping back into the crowd. You pouted, glaring at his back until you couldn’t see his mop of curls anymore and turned to face Chris again. Your date was looking at you with an annoyed expression, one that was surely mirrored on your face but the only difference was his look was directed at you and yours was at Matthew for showing up out of nowhere.

“Are you okay—?” You barely got the question out before Chris was interrupting you. Again.

“You can’t talk to him if we’re going to see each other.” He stated, as if it was that easy.

It wasn’t as if you wanted to hang out with Matt, not since you hit middle school, but it would be a cold day in hell before some guy told you who you could and could not talk to.

“We’re neighbors, nothing will ever be going on there but our families are good friends. I literally have to talk to him whenever I go home.” You weren’t sure why you were explaining this to him, maybe a part of you wanted to see if he’d bactrack and apologize, even if the relationship was damaged beyond repair. Those hopes were squashed the moment he spoke next.

“Then I’m out.” And he was standing up, barely giving you a second look before he was headed towards the door.

It was pettiness that had you crossing the bar in search of the one person that you couldn’t stand to be around for an extended period of time. You had seen a whole new side of Chris in a matter of five minutes and a small part of you was glad that Matt interrupted and brought it out. Emphasis on small, though.

“You owe me a drink.” You nudged Matt’s shoulder, sliding in next to him at the bar. You didn’t care that you were interrupting his conversation with one of his teammates, you had just been dumped by the guy you’d been somewhat seeing for a few weeks because he couldn’t handle the idea of you knowing a NHL player. “Scared my date away because he didn’t like the fact that I talk to you.”

“I feel like I did you a favor, if he really is that insecure. We don’t even like each other.” He had waved down the bartender with a chuckle, ordering you a beer like the one he had clutched in his hand. It was seconds before the cool glass was set in front of you. Perks of being a hotshot hero in Calgary, you assumed.

“I’ll drink to that.” You clinked your bottle against his, taking a generous sip as Matt watched with an amused grin. He was leaning against the counter, his back now fully turned on his teammates. Clearly, he wasn’t planning on letting you finish your drink in peace.

“Mom told me you got your dream job, so tell me about it.”

“Like you care.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. You were feeling especially bitter, and you were taking it out on Matt. To be fair, he was taking it all in stride, but you knew he was biding his time until he could make a joke.

“Try me.” Matt wasn’t a bad guy. Annoying, sure. A pain in your ass? Since the day you met. But you knew him better than most—begrudgingly, of course—and you could tell he was genuinely curious. He probably had plans to tease you about it later, you would put money on the fact, but with the way your night had turned out, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Fine, but just until I finish this drink and my Uber gets here.”

TWO

mama tkachuk: Hi sweetie! Keith and I are in town for the weekend and were wondering if you wanted to get dinner with us and Matt! Text me when you get a chance!

It was so unfair. How could Chantal be as sweet as she was and have produced a child like Matthew? You were so caught up in how kind her invitation was that you had agreed to meet up with them before it really set in that you would have to sit through a dinner with Matt.

You had arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later than the agreed upon time due to traffic, so everyone else was already at the table by the time you made it. Chantal was the first to jump up and greet you with a hug, Keith following after with a ‘how are you, kid’ and a tight squeeze. You shot Matt a tight-lipped smile, trying to remain civil infront of his parents, and he returned with his typical smug grin, though it was more subdued than usual as a result of sitting next to his mother.

“You always liked to be late.” Matt teased as you sat down. You rolled your eyes at him, annoyed but willing to let the comment slide for the sake of his parents.

“I don’t know why you guys bicker all the time, you used to tell us all the time that you were going to be a family someday. You guys even practiced with Taryn and Brady.” Chantal reminisced, and you smiled uneasily at the memory. It wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant one, some of your best memories took place in the Tkachuk living room. Back when you were kids, you and Matt were attached at the hip. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum—if Matt was caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar you were right at his side reminding him to grab one for you too. This particular instance stuck out in your mind, though, because your mom teased you about it whenever she got the chance.

It was a rainy Saturday, Keith was out of town for hockey and your dad was at the office, which left the moms sitting in the kitchen chatting about whatever adults talked about. Taryn had just learned how to walk, which meant that she was trying to follow you around to the best of her ability, even if that meant watching from the sidelines as you played mini sticks with her brothers.

But after Matt had scored against you and Brady enough times, you declared that it was time for them to play your game—house. Taryn was your baby, and she happily filled the roll as she toddled behind you. Brady was your other son, and Matt was the dad. You played like that for an hour or so, Matt pretending to come home from road trips while playing in the NHL just like his father, only to help you pretend to cook dinner and put ‘the kids’ to bed.

At six years old, he was a dream pretend-father.

“I can’t help it if Matthew runs his mouth too much.” You chirped, and though you meant it in good fun there was some seriousness. Matt never knew when to quit, his comments more obnoxious than endearing most of the time. Though, he did have his moments, you were willing to admit. You knew he had your back when it came down to it, but he also would be the first one to crash your date and tell the guy you were with some embarrassing story about you from when you were seven.

He did that no less than three separate times when you were teenagers.

“Remember when they pretended to get married at like six? And Matt cried when I told him that he wasn’t actually her husband.” Keith nudged his wife with a grin, his statement earning a groan from Matt. You flushed, keeping quiet as the memory flashed in your head—the theme of the night, apparently.

It was a summer wedding, so to speak. Sometime during the offseason your family and the Tkachuks rented a lake house for a week and you spent the entire time racing from one activity to the next while clutching Matt’s hand. Your aunt had just gotten married, so weddings were on your mind and you decided you wanted a party like she had. Your choices for potential husbands were limited, Brady and Matt the only other boys close to your age. When Brady claimed that you had cooties and ran away, Matt was the only option left and it simply took the bribe of sharing your dessert with him after dinner for him to agree.

You had made paper rings and even forced Matt to fake propose to you, all while both your mothers looked on with camera’s clutched in their hands. You had claimed your unending love for Matt that day, and he had done the same. In an effort to tease you, your mom had said that he had to kiss the bride and you both looked at her like she was crazy—though he did end up pressing a quick and sloppy kiss to the back of your hand to appease her.

And then twenty minutes later he shoved you off the dock because you were too scared to jump in.

Matt was watching you as his mother told the story, chuckling as she added in anecdotes about how she and your mother had almost started planning your real wedding that day and similar comments. It was no secret that she was rooting for you to get together with her son, and even though Keith would try to get his wife to tone down her comments, you saw his smug grin every once on a while.

The rest of dinner and dessert passed by with minimal reminiscing, and soon enough the check was paid. Matt picked up the bill, and though you tried to argue that you could pay for yourself, Matt simply stuck his tongue out at you and Keith said that he would’ve paid for everyone if he had only been able to grab the check faster. You rolled your eyes at Matt’s childishness, but thanked Keith for his kindness despite the fact that he hadn’t even really done anything.

“So where did you park?” Chantal asked as the four of you stepped outside. The cold air made you shiver, and you used one hand to tighten your coat around you while the other gestured over your shoulder in the general direction of where your car was.

“Like three blocks away. It was pretty busy when I got here.” You replied. Chantal nodded, opening her arms for a hug you readily reciprocated.

“I’ll walk you. It’s way too late for you to go by yourself.” Matt spoke up, interrupting your goodbyes with his parents. He handed his keys off to his dad so they could wait in the car while he went with you, and because he simply couldn’t just be nice, he added his next comment. “You’d probably get lost if I don’t go with you.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You said sarcastically, the roll of your eyes coming almost naturally. There wasn’t room for you to argue, because Chantal was nudging you in the opposite direction she was headed to get to Matt’s car. Part of you wondered if she somehow planned this in an another attempt to get you to spend time alone with her son. You didn’t have time to think about it too much, between saying goodbyes and making plans to meet up when you went home for the holidays, you were rushing a bit to get out of the cold.

While you walked, Matt stayed quiet, something you didn’t realize he was capable of. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to try and stay warm, but you felt his arm brush against yours every once in a while.

“Thanks for coming tonight, mom loved it.” He was softer now, his voice devoid of any of its usual smugness.

“Are you kidding? I love your parents.” You teased, trying to figure out where this quiet side of Matt was coming from. It was the side of him that rarely came out, especially in front of the media and never on the ice, but it was the side that you got along with the best. You stopped at your car, turning to face Matt. “Thanks for walking me.”

“No problem. Uh, text me when you get home, or whatever. So I know you got there safe.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a slight redness to his cheeks that caught you off guard. You nodded, unlocking your car and offering him one last smile and goodbye before climbing in.

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you drove home. He was trying.

THREE

You had the worst luck.

Firstly, the only flight you could get home for the holidays was a red-eye to try and save some money. Secondly, your parents were making you get a cab from the airport instead of coming to pick you up. It was fine, you were an adult and could handle both those things. You had long come to terms with it by the time you were settling into your seat as everyone boarded.

But third—

“No way am I this lucky.”

The sound of the familiar voice had you tilting your head back with a groan, not even bothering to look at the person who was dropping unceremoniously into the seat beside you. Though his curls were tucked under his hoodie and he was trying his best to remain undetected, his presence was one that you would recognize anywhere.

“I’m just really, really, unlucky.” You told Matt, and though your comment was a jab at him, he wore the same grin he always did.

“That’s mean.” He teased, reaching over to poke your side because of course he hasn't outgrown giving you jumper cables. You glared at him, momentarily pausing your efforts to dig through your bag in search of your headphones just so he knew how annoyed you were. Not that he cared, or that it ever really stopped him.

“Look, Matt, I’ve had a long day, and I was looking forward to just sleeping this whole flight.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face in frustration.

“I’ll leave you alone, promise.” Matt grinned that stupidly smug grin of his.

Yeah, right. You thought, but kept the comment to yourself. It was better to let Matt think he won than invite him to keep going by replying. He grinned at you, simply miming zipping his lips shut as you rolled your eyes.

He lasted longer than you thought he would—ten minutes.

“I don’t know what you don’t like about me so much, it’s not the hockey thing, because you love Brady.” Matt spoke up, going so far as to pull your headphone out of your ear so you could hear him.

“Brady’s adorable and like a baby brother to me.” You said matter-of-factly, earning a snicker from Matt. “You chipped my tooth when we were twelve and then blamed it on me.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.” He snorted, and for a second you thought he’d leave it at that. He had succeeded in getting under your skin, just like he usually did. “And it was your fault. You weren’t paying attention.”

“You didn’t have to shoot the pucks at me that hard!” You frowned at the memory. You had offered to stand in goal for him while he practiced shooting, and though you were definitely not destined to play in the NHL like him, that didn’t stop him from acting as if he was taking part in the hardest shot competition.

Matt didn’t respond, instead he just shook his head with a grin. Clearly, he was more amused by the memory than you were.

He went back to leaving you alone, though he stole one of your headphones and placed it into his ear to listen. He scrunched his nose up at the song, and you rolled your eyes at the silent jab at your taste in music.

Eventually, you did end up falling asleep. When you woke up to Matthew shaking you gently, you realized that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder and that he was waking you since you had landed and people were starting to exit. You waited for the chirps to come about your subconscious action, knowing he probably had a few comments up his sleeve. Except, he didn’t say anything, only stood up to retrieve both of your carryon bags from the overhead storage.

Matt stuck by your side the entire time you got off the plane and headed to luggage claim, unable to help himself from chirping you at the fact you couldn’t find your suitcase. You poked your tongue out at him, admittedly a little juvenile on your behalf, when you spotted your bag come around the carousel. Before you could grab it, though, he snagged it and stuck his tongue out at you before departing into the airport in search of his parents. Now, you were forced to trail after him.

Your annoyance faded, though, when you heard Chantal call your and Matthew’s names. You smiled at the woman, who hugged her son quickly before turning and pulling you into her arms.

“Guess who I got to sit next to?” Matt chimed, sounding a bit too pleased with himself for your liking. You rolled your eyes, unable to help the tiny bit of amusement you felt at how excited Chantal looked at the idea that you had each other on the flight. You and Matt may both be adults, but to her, you were still toddlers that needed constant supervision and she loved the idea that you were there to watch after each other.

“Oh, that’s lucky!” Chantal cheered and you grit your teeth, forcing a smile on your face at the way Matt was grinning smugly at you. Okay, you figured it could have been worse, you could have been seated next to a creep, but you weren’t about to admit that to Matt.

“So lucky.” You muttered sarcastically. Thankfully, Matthew wasn’t given a chance to comment further on your response, as his dad spoke up before he could.

“Is your dad here? I got a new set of clubs I want to brag about.” Keith questioned and you shook your head with a genuine smile. Living next to a retired NHLer gave your dad plenty of opportunities to bring out his competitive side, and golf was definitely one of their favorite pastimes.

“No, he and mom couldn’t come to get me because they both had work.” You explained and Keith rolled his eyes in good fun. You always wondered how both families got along so well when you couldn’t stand Matt.

“Do you want a ride home then?” Chantal offered sweetly.

“That’d be great, thank you.” You were glad you wouldn’t have to worry about getting an Uber, and you didn’t feel as if you were crashing the Tkachuks’ time with their oldest son since as soon as you started to head to the car, Chantal fell in step with you.

“Oh, Matt, you’re being such a gentleman, carrying her suitcase for her.” Chantal gushed after having noticed that Matt had an extra bag and you didn’t have one. She shot you a look and you just knew this was only fueling her belief that you were destined to end up with Matt. She would probably mention it to your mother, and then you really never would hear the end of it.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Keith chirped, earning an eye roll from Matt and laughter from you and Chantal. It was all in good nature, the teasing comments a sign of love amongst the hockey family.

And really, you had no choice but to agree with Keith.

FOUR

“I need you to run next door and give this to Chantal.” Your mom told you, holding out a tray of holiday cookies. You sighed, reluctantly getting up from your spot on the living room couch. You weren’t doing anything, but the aspect of having to walk all the way next door was not totally appealing.

But you did as she said and stuffed on some shoes before heading next door and letting yourself in. Taryn was the first to greet you, taking the tray of cookies and leading you towards the kitchen. As soon as the platter was set down, you both helped yourself to a cookie.

“How’s Calgary? Is Matt showing up randomly to bug you?” She was teasing, but she was right. You laughed, nodding as you broke off a piece of your cookie to eat.

“He showed up while I was on a date, completely by chance, and ruined it.” You chuckled at the memory and at the way Taryn laughed loudly at that. It wasn’t entirely true, Chris was doing a pretty good job of ruining the date on his own, but Matt’s appearance was the final nail in the coffin.

“That’s because he's practically in love with you.” She spoke between giggles. You rolled your eyes, having heard the comment countless times before. It had followed you and Matt around since you were kids, and by the time you were thirteen it morphed from platonic love to your moms explaining what soulmates were to you guys. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered the idea of Matt having a thing for you, but you had long since given up on that idea.

You didn’t have time to comment on it, though, because speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Matt marched into the room, a smug grin on his face. While he spoke, he reached across to where you were standing and broke off a piece of the cookie you were still eating. With a pout, you watched him pop your cookie into his mouth all the while eye contact with you and wearing a self-satisfied grin.

“Oh, just how you’re in love with each other.” Taryn said casually, her sentence punctuated by Matt choking on the cookie. Clearly, he was caught off guard.

“You deserved that, and no, we were not.” You told Matt as he tried to catch his breath. You couldn’t help the grin you were wearing, and for a brief second you acknowledged that he looked adorable all flustered. Matt shot a glare at his sister, who was laughing hysterically at him, and launched forward to dig his fingers into her sides.

You watched carefully as he tickled his sister mercilessly, preparing to make a break for the living room if he turned his attention to you. You were smiling, widely and genuinely, as you watched Matt mess around with his sister.

This was the Matt that you grew up best friends with.

As you were distracted, Matt let his sister go and she caught her breath while cursing him out and you let out a loud laugh at some of the creative things she said. She certainly was from a hockey family.

But then Matt turned his attention to you, a wicked grin on his face and a playful look in his eyes. Your own eyes went wide, and as soon as he took half a step towards you, you spun on your heel and dashed out of the kitchen.

You heard him chasing after you, but you didn’t risk looking back knowing that if you even wanted a chance to outrun him you would need to stay focused. And as you took a particularly sharp turn into the other room, you heard him crash into the wall, clearly not as agile as he thought he was.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Tkachuk! I brought cookies from Mom!” You greeted with a laugh as you sprinted past Keith and Chantal in the hallway. You barely had time to register their looks of amusement before you felt Matt’s fingers brush your back, signaling that he was close to grabbing you.

“Don’t hurt her, we like her more than you!” Keith called after you, teasing Matt and catching him off guard enough that he stumbled, and you were able to put some distance between you and him. You were laughing maniacally, the sound mixing with Matt’s chuckles and Taryn encouraging you to run faster.

Eventually, you made it to the living room, and you spotted Brady’s head poking up behind the back of the couch as he watched some rerun hockey game. You know it’s a longshot that Matt will give up and that you need to bite the bullet and let him catch you, but your stubbornness is what makes you throw yourself over the back of the couch, your head landing in the lap of a very confused and surprised Brady.

“Protect me.” You order, grabbing the younger Tkachuk brother’s bicep as Matt leaned over the back of the couch, his curls wild and grin wicked. For a second, there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat, but then he was back to being smug.

“Brady can’t stop me.” Matt teased, leaning against the back of the couch. Brady didn’t comment, though he rolled his eyes at his brother. It was an argument that had been going on for a decade or so—which brother was stronger? And though they wrestled from time to time, Brady being victorious more often than he used to be, you knew they would never actually fight. You had been there when Keith made them shake heads and promise not to drop the gloves the first time they played each other.

“He’s taller.” You argued, and Matt chuckled as he made his way around the couch. You watched as he lifted your legs, dropping into the spot on the couch they once occupied before resting your limbs across his lap.

“Doesn’t matter.” He replied, giving your shin a squeeze as he spoke. You rolled your eyes, getting comfortable in your spot laying across the Tkachuk brothers and turning to watch the Blues vs. Stars game Brady had put on.

It felt nice to laugh with Matt again. It was as if things were back to normal, and you tried to ignore the funny fluttering feeling in your stomach as his thumbs brushed back and forth along your legs. You hated it, because it was Matt, and you had long since declared that you couldn’t stand him. And yet, there you were, melting under his touch.

“Oh, come on, you’re not going to attack her?” Taryn complained as she dropped into the free chair on the other side of the room. You stuck your tongue out at her, smiling at the sound of Matt’s chuckles. You were going to make a comment about how she was supposed to be on your side in response, but Brady was faster, and his words—for whatever reason—made any reply die on your tongue.

“It’s because he’s in love with her.”

AND ONE MORE

You hated the fact that you weren’t able to sleep. But even more so, you hated the fact that you knew exactly why you couldn’t get your mind to turn off. You couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet Matt had been earlier in the day, and though you knew he always had a soft spot for his sister, for some reason this time it was hitting you differently. Plus Taryn and Brady’s ‘he’s in love with you’s were bouncing around your head.

Finally, after what felt like the hundredth time you had tossed around under the covers, you sat up and snagged your phone off of the nightstand. You sat up, unlocking your phone and opening messages and before you could really think about stopping yourself you typed out a text and sent it.

Only after the message was sent and you couldn’t do anything about it, did you reread what you said and check the time. You couldn’t help but cringe at the one in the morning ‘hey, are you up?’ text that seemingly glared back at you. But then the three dots appeared that signaled that he was typing, and you quickly slid out of the conversation so he wouldn’t think you were waiting for his text. You were, and though he responded within a minute, you didn’t want to give his ego that extra boost.

matthew: usually I’m the one that sends that text

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, having expected him to say something along those lines. You had practically handed that joke to him. Before you could type out a reply telling him to forget about it, your phone buzzed again with another text.

matthew: front door is unlocked, meet in the basement for a movie?

He was giving you a choice. You could go to bed and pretend this never happened and continue to tell everyone around you that the only thing you felt for Matt was annoyance. But you didn’t. You knew that you might regret it, but you slipped out of bed and tugged on a pair of leggings and a hoodie over your sleepshirt. Shoving on a pair of shoes, you tip-toed outside and to the house next door. It felt a little ridiculous, you were an adult, sneaking around to visit a boy like a teenager. But, you were quiet, and made sure you didn’t make any noise as you slipped down the stairs.

“Why am I sneaking around here like we’re fourteen again?” You teased as soon as you saw Matt already on the couch as he flipped through movie options. For a reason unbeknownst to you, your heart skipped a beat in your chest and your breathing stuttered as you cataloged just how attractive he looked in something as casual as a hoodie and sweats, how suddenly you wanted to run your fingers through his curls that definitely needed a hair treatment.

“I don’t want my family to know you’re here because then I’d have to share.” He teased, snapping you out of your thoughts and opening his arms to silently ask you to cuddle him. You hesitated for a moment, because that was not something you usually did except for maybe when you were three, but decided to throw caution to the wind and curled yourself into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Besides, you didn’t usually text him at one in the morning either, so precedent was already out the window.

As soon as you settled into him, he draped the blanket that had been folded over the back of the couch over both of your legs. You blushed at the thoughtful action, but tried to hide the flush of your cheeks by staring straight ahead at the television.

“What are we watching?” You found your voice after a moment. When Matt didn’t respond right away, you turned to face him to find him already watching, a small smile on his face and a gentle look in his eyes. For the second time that night, you felt your breath catch in your throat, and it was only the surprised look on your face that had him snapping out of it.

“Oh, uh, you can pick.” He handed the remote to you, and you raised a brow at his odd behavior. You reached a hand up, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead as if to check his temperature with a confused look on your face.

“Are you feeling okay? You must be sick, if you’re letting someone else choose the movie.” You teased, grinning when Matt laughed, swatting your hand away and tugging you closer all in the same movement.

“I’ve been thinking—” He started, but after having grown up with hockey players, you were quick to think up a chirp.

“Are you sure you’re okay then?” You teased, enjoying the warm feeling you got when you heard his laugh. He had your back pressed to his front, so you were facing the television and couldn’t see whatever the look on his face was.

“Would you just let me talk for a minute?” He chuckled and you felt the vibrations in his chest from where you were cuddled against him. And though he was teasing you, there was a softness to his tone that had you nodding, still facing forward. “I kinda sucked when we were teenagers.” He confessed, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. Though, holding true to your word, you stayed quiet and let him talk. “I was a preteen boy that didn’t know how to act around you and ended up making an idiot of myself.” You knew there probably was a deeper meaning to his words, but you weren’t ready to dive into that and he kept going. “And then we were fifteen and you were in love or whatever with Tommy Banner and I was jealous. And then you broke up but I had to go away for hockey and I don’t regret that, but I do regret not making things better with you before I left.”

His confession hung in the air for a moment as you processed his words. He threw a lot of information at you at once, and you cringed momentarily at the memory of your first ‘serious’ relationship.

See, the thing was, as much as you talked up your annoyance at Matthew, he had always been your person. You fake married the guy for a reason, even if you didn’t really know the implications of your actions way back then. You knew what marriage looked like from your parents and Matt’s, and you wanted that for yourself. You wanted that with Matt. He was your first real crush, and those never really go away. Or at least, yours didn’t.

But once you were teenagers, you stopped pining after your neighbor, a seemingly unattainable goal, and started hanging out with other people. You and Matt started to drift, and then eventually his teasing comments always seemed to be directed towards whatever guy you were seeing, thus making you grow contempt for him.

But now, he was showing his softer side, and those feelings from when you were younger resurfaced as he confessed that he felt the same. You couldn’t deny that you felt something when his hand brushed against you or when he grinned at you—no matter how self-satisfied he looked.

Suddenly you became aware that you had been silent for a moment too long, and you sat up straighter and turned to face Matt. He was studying you, and for the first time in as long as you could remember—except maybe that one time in eighth grade when he asked you to go to the school dance with him because he wanted to make his mom happy—he looked unsure of himself. It was an emotion that didn’t sit right on his face, and as often as you complained about his teasing, you much preferred his shit-eating grin.

“It’s your turn to talk now.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood but only succeeding partly since the breathy chuckle he gave at the end told you he was nervous.

Before you could help yourself, you had cupped his face with both your hands and pulled him forward to connect your lips to his. It took him a second to relax under your touch, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he grabbed your elbow to hold you in place.

When you felt his tongue swipe at your lips you knew you had to pull away before you got too caught up in him, which you knew you would, and you separated. His grin was wide, a little smug like usual, but mostly he was looking adoringly at you.

“I thought you hated me?” He teased, because it’s Matt and of course he would. You rolled your eyes, willing to admit that you had set him up with that one.

“Don’t push your luck, Tkachuk.” You pecked his lips once more, wondering why you had waited so long to do so. If he had been telling the truth, and you knew he was, then he had been crushing on you as long as you had been on him.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, mock saluting while leaning towards you to chase after your lips for another kiss. You complied, but then pressed a hand on his chest to lean back enough to give him a serious look.

“And if this is going to work, you have to stop being such a pest all the time. Tone it down a bit.” He nodded, grin widening at the mention of your relationship moving past the night. You smiled at him, leaning up to give him one more kiss before settling back into his side. “And I still get to pick the movie.”

Matt chuckled, but didn’t argue. Instead, he settled for pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He let this arm fall from around your shoulders to your waist, and you knew without looking at him that he was wearing a satisfied grin.

“Who’s going to tell our moms that they were right about us?” He spoke up after a moment, and you chuckled. You were as stubborn as Matt was, and neither of you were too excited to admit to anyone that you had been wrong about the fact that you’d end up with each other. You were even certain that Brady, Keith, and Taryn had a running bet about when you and Matt would get together.

As it turns out, neither of you would have to, because you fell asleep together on the couch and Chantal was the first to find you cuddled into her son's chest.

Just like she knew you always would.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk imagines #Matthew tkachuk x reader #hockey imagine #NHL imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine

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bagog · 3 years ago

Text

What On Earth Has Happened

Hey, no story here, no experiments. Just a play by play of an awful year in my life. Please don't reblog. Trying to just get it down in one place for people who care about me. Long, sob-story beneath the cut.

Air - 'Things are looking up!' I had started to drift a bit from tumblr. The porno purge came and a lot of my friends trickled off the platform after that. I went back to school, attempting to score myself a Masters degree in something that would pay enough to get me out of Student Debt. I was doing great, picking things up fast. I got a new job at a company doing pretty menial work, but the people I worked with were great conversationalists. The work didn't involve dealing with customers at all, paid well, and was small and accomplishable tasks. Essentially I was being prepped to take a better position at the place once I had my Masters. Covid happened, then. Earth - 'The Whole World Sucks Right Now' My company was "essential," so I continued going to work, now on weird schedules. The company I worked for was profiting off Covid, all the while making fun of it as an overblown conspiracy, even as their own epidemiologist urged them to take better precautions. Work became hard to swallow. Water - 'When your lowest place could be lower' The apartment I shared with my boyfriend flooded. The lowest place in any sewage system is typically the bathtub, such that if it backs up, it does so into that tub. Our lowest point is the toilet. So the apartment flooded. Three times. Roots growing through the sewage outflow meant that, often, you needed to wait a solid hour between toilet flushes, or else the toilet would back up with such gusto the sewage would slosh down the hallway and into the living room. We mopped many times. The problem was finally fixed 8 months later, necessitating our having to camp because our house had no water. Fire - 'To destroy all you've done' One afternoon, I smelled burning. Going to our bedroom, I found our shelf a column of flame. I could barely breathe for all the smoke, but I managed to grab a blanket and beat the fire out. On the other side of the room, the pages of the books upon another shelf had begun to crisp from the heat, the blinds on all the windows were warped. The whole apartment had been about to go up. I'm kinda scared of fire now. Heart - 'When moving is too much to ask' Personal health sorta hit a new low. Migraines kept me out of work for two full weeks. I have seasonal foot pain, I always assumed from hiking for a living in my 20s. Turns out it was gout, all the while. Gout is exceptionally painful: it's like a messy pile of razor blades in the ball of your foot every time you step down. At work, I could barely stand. Walking from my car to the door became something I needed to psyche myself up for. Not a lot can stop a gout flare-up once it's in full swing, so I just had to wait it out. For a month. Two. Some of the worst sustained pain I've been in. Little did I know that, in January, come the kidney stones. Kidney stones feel awful. Feel like total shit. Gout and kidney stones are comorbid--brought about as a result of the meds I take to help me focus. So any day I don't drink enough water is a day when my kidneys or my foot just starts aching. But going back to September of 2020... Homophobia - 'goddammit' Finally things are looking better. I'm limping quickly again. Then I am called into the HR office. I am told that two sexual harassment charges have been brought against me. I'm told that one individual has alleged that I, while in the restroom, used a reflective toilet brush to attempt to peep him under a stall wall. I did not do this. I do not understand--reflective toilet brush?? wtf. The second allegation: I just straight up looked over a stall at a guy. I didn't do this either. I'm asked to defend myself, I ask who or date or time of day. I am given nothing. I remark that I don't think I'm tall enough to see over the stall, and I do not understand about the toilet brush. Of the ten minutes of the meeting, I spend 8 of them trying to get my head around how a claim about a reflective toilet brush has me here. "Would you like us to go now to see if you're tall enough to see over the stall? If that would help your defense?" says the HR head. "Yes, I

would," says I. We did not go. I am told that the accusers have no reason to be collaborating, or to even know each other made a claim. This is bullshit, because it was a company of 80 people, and only a quarter of those employees used the restroom where my alleged harassment was to have taken place. Before I am dismissed from work for the day to go home and wait to find out if I'll be fired or not, I march into the HR office once more and say "I hope none of this is happening because I'm gay." The HR head looks positively offended. I got fired cuz I'm gay. Next day I got a call. They'd come to the "objective truth" (that phrase is burned in my mind), and were terminating me. Apparently they discounted the toilet brush rumor, after all. But they really honestly believed I looked over the stall at a dude. Nightmare - 'No Fear One Fear' Let me tell you something: this is a nightmare. This is my honest-to-god nightmare. I've been terrified of getting accused of something in a bathroom since I was 11 years old. I am incredibly self-conscious and careful in public restrooms. To be fired? From a place full of people I like? And all of them will think I'm a pervert. My boyfriend worked at the same place. He would now have to work there every day dealing with people looking at him and wondering what he must think of his boyfriend. That sent me on a spiral. I'm still out of work, almost a year later. It would have been the worst mental health crisis of my life if it wasn't for my boyfriend, my support network, and the meds I've finally been able to get ahold of. Oh, also. My two accusers? Were roommates. HR knew they were roommates. They basically collaborated on a story to get me fired. The story circulating around the place (I still have acquaintances I talk to working there) has dropped the reflective toilet brush entirely. I guess they thought it was too unbelievable. So anyway, the people who accused me are now telling a different set of events than what I was told. Absolute horse shit. Tried to go to my city's human right's council to see if my situation warranted further attention. I gave my side of the story--including tales of the straight manager who had had enough harassment charges brought against him that he was no longer allowed to meet female staff--which indicated I'd been treated differently and wrongly. My old job made an impassioned argument that the committee violated their First Amendment rights(?) ('Freedom of speech' is the biggie with the First Amendment, for people who cba re:USA). I won the vote!! But one member of the committee was missing. So there weren't enough people for the vote to pass. Dismissed. We took it to the EEOC to make an official federal complaint. Just a week ago, an agent of the US Government patiently explained to us that these laws are literally designed to fuck over the worker and protect the employer unless they are epically stupid, and unfortunately, mine had not been epically stupid. So there's nowhere to go, no recourse to be had. It's over, I guess. Family - 'How to sum it up quickly...' My family hit me with the old soft-disown. No more calls, no more communication. They think they are loving me by not having contact with me. By depriving me of my family, they hope it will make me realize that the path I'm on is destructive, and I'll return to them living an upright life. No. I'm living an upright life, now. And if my family can choose to throw me away, then they are not a family I choose. Then my dad hit me back two months later, absolutely gaslighting me and pretending we never had the disown conversation at all. Reality - 'I don't know who I am anymore' I have trouble knowing what's real, anymore. Every message my dad sends on the surface seems loving and supportive and plaintive. I feel I must be the one in the wrong. I got fired for bullshit reasons. It doesn't feel real. "My family can't possibly have ceased contact with me: that's one of those things I know can never happen!!" But that did happen. So what else that feels real, actually isn't? I do

mean to be so dramatic, and I won't apologize for it. But I truly do feel like my mind has been pretty thoroughly unseated by the last year. Whoever I am, I'm becoming someone different. More distilled, at very least. I've discovered a lot of things about myself: trauma that has likely led to a lot of my mental health problems. Discovered I actually have RAGING ADHD, and it has robber me of a lot of things I wanted to do, and now is sort of consuming me completely. I'm looking for help. Trying to get better. Here's hoping. Every bold point above could be its own book, for all my thoughts about them. But enough of that for now. Love you. Thanks for reading.

#personal #depressed writing #life update #2020 sucked

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someonewhowannadielol · 5 years ago

Text

Blossom fully (deep in my bones)

(Teacher!JK x College student!Reader) PART ONE

Warnings: JK has anger management issues, very slight violence, a lot of fluff, don't get a heart attack.

Genre: Fluff.

Word Count: 10.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

I have decided to turn this into a trilogy. This is Part One, enjoy. Let me know if you want to be tagged (you could just comment, or dm me).

Love. Adoration. Lust. For Jeon Jungkook, his entire life, they had been just words, nothing more – after all, these were just concepts made by society, what if people had not known about the concept of love? Would they still try to find it? Would they still be willing to work for it? Then, you came into his life, and gave meaning to those words.

“Welcome to the annual football championship between Seoul Nation University and Sungkyunkwan University 2020,”

“Break his jaw!” Jungkook heard the other team chant, while looking at him. He just scoffed while adjusting his gloves, as if.

“Really? Think you can do it? Go ahead and try,” Jungkook mocked them across the field, his tongue poking against his left cheek.

Jungkook was never set out for failure, it was never allowed in his life – because he knew for a fact that his father would have his throat if he didn’t turn out to be the best of the best.

At age five, he had a strict workout regime and had less than 10 percent body fat, maintained till present date. He had also learnt that he would rather be loved than feared, he hated the look in the eyes of his classmates when he accidentally punched his seatmate, Byung-chul, just because he had taken his red crayon without asking. Now, no one would sit next to him at lunch.

He told himself that he didn’t mind it, but he couldn’t help but cry at night because no one wanted to play on the see-saw with him. He knew if he asked them, they would have no choice other than to say yes, after all, they didn’t want to end up like Byung-chul, hospitalized, with a broken arm. But what’s the use, if they don’t actually want to be with him?

Age seven, he had landed his first punch on his butler when he saw him abuse his dog. He didn’t know what to tell to his therapist, how could he explain that all he saw was red when he saw Yeontan being thrown out of the room? How could he explain that he had no control over his body? He couldn’t control the beast in him that had pounced over the man.

Age ten, he landed his position as quarterback on the national “Under 19,” football team. Soon, he had to drop out – not because he couldn’t play well, hell, he was probably the most talented played that they could’ve scouted. But, because he wouldn’t tolerate any thing that would come in the path of him and his success.

Age fifteen, he had graduated high school, gotten a perfect 1600 in his SAT, and been given a full ride to SNU. Throughout his high school career, despite having narrow minded, shallow and mindless classmates, Jungkook still wishes he made more memories, had photos with friends in his camera roll (rather than just pictures of sunsets and tattoo designs),

Age 20. Present Day, and he had earned the title of Doctor, not that he could actually perform in the surgeries because of his “anger issues”. Currently, he was a Grad student, but also taught the first year Undergrads, just because of his immense knowledge that could be on par with the old, wrinkly professors that had been teaching since 30+ years.

There had never been a championship, never an exam, never a game that Jeon Jungkook hadn’t won. He wasn’t going to lose this one either. The chants from hundreds of people across the campus stadium were deaf on his ears when he heard the other team’s captain call him an asshole.

Everyone knew Jungkook had well, anger management issues. And to say they were bad was, well, an understatement. So far, the only thing he’s learnt from 14 years of anger management classes, movies, documentaries and seminars is that – only attack when they punch you enough to make you bleed.

“Jeon! Look out!”

Without a warning, the other team’s captain had punched him in the face, hard enough to bust his lip.

Jungkook just sighed, shook his head as if he were disappointed (He was, in fact disappointed, did this dumbass not known what he could do to him?), and calmly just brushed his white glove against his lip, internally wishing he could see his red blood smeared across it.

And there it was, a streak of blood. Then, Jungkook punched him back – not stopping until his face was almost disfigured – suits him for even trying to mess with Jeon Jungkook.

Around an hour later, Jungkook already knew he was going to be chewed out by the college dean, so he was already counting down from 100 on his way to seminar room number 3.

“54, 53, 52, 51,” he muttered under his breath, pushing back his – now long (he really ought to cut it now, it was starting to get into his eyes) – hair back with his left hand, and entered the room. He could see he interrupted a lecture, and was almost about to head back when-

“Oh! Jeon Jungkook, what a pleasure!” he heard the college dean speak in his pretentious, and extremely conceited voice, here we go again.

“Everyone! Welcome Doctor Jeon Jungkook, he’s one of our in-house surgeons. Topper of the college, topper of the board, topper of the university. In fact, he’s of the one of the best – if not the best student SNU has ever got the chance to teach. He’s got the most impeccable academic record, of all time, now going to teach biochemistry to first year undergraduates this year,” Jungkook scoffed when he heard the entire class clap their hands at his arrival, after the Dean’s speech that complimented him, but he knew better, he kne-

“But what’s the use of all that? In anger management, he scores a zero. He’s a classic example for all of you, if you can’t hold your anger in, you’re nothing more than a murderer with surgical instruments in an emergency ward. Without compassion, your degree is of no use to me. Even a low score is acceptable to me, but not that behaviour,”

Was he trying to rile Jungkook up on purpose?

“Please continue, sir, I really loved the analysis you’ve done on me, please do continue,” The words flew out of Jungkook’s mouth as he made his way up the stairs to the stage where the dean stood.

“What behaviour is this? I need you to write an apology letter to Sungkyunkwan University, and to the college board as well,”

It was clear the dean was about to get off the stage, before well, Jungkook spoke again. The dean didn’t really think he was getting off this easily, did he?

“Football is a violent sport, the minute they entered our territory, and tried to abuse the rules, that’s the minute everything and anything is allowed. As far as the apology goes, I’d rather quit the college than write that bullshit,”

The seminar room was so quite that a pin dropped would shatter the silence. Jungkook smirked before he exited, “I won’t lose anything by leaving SNU, any other medical program in the world will be ready to accept me, the only reason I stay in this hellhole is because I enjoy the spring in Seoul. But imagine the loss of pride that SNU will experience once Jeon Jungkook leaves the establishment,”

Jungkook walked across the campus cafeteria as he tried to find his lighter in his pocket, fiddling with his cigarette in his other hand. “Are you seriously going to leave?” Jimin runned after him, struggling with his lab coat, “what will you get out of this? Just write the goddamn apology,”

Jungkook decided to settle on a table where three rowdy boys sat, flexing their muscles, but as they saw Jungkook approaching, they simply muttered apologies before scattering away, leaving the table.

Jimin-ah,” Jungkook smiled as he puffed his cigarette, “there’s nothing for me here, besides, I was planning to move to the US, anyways,”

“And leave me and Tae here? Wow, you’re such a considerate friend, you know,” Jungkook saw Jimin pout, and smiled.

It was really a miracle that he made his first two friends ever while his second year, here at SNU. Jimin loved pets, and was practicing to become a vet, while Taehyung was – kind of – crazy, and even scared Jungkook the first time he met him. He’s pretty sure Tae would’ve set the lab on fire if Jungkook hadn’t studied chemical properties before his class. At first, he hated it when both of them would tag along, following him to lunch, inviting themselves into his mansion, and forcing him to go to the arcade with them – but soon, he had learned to love being around them.

While looking around for Tae, so he could finally break the news of him leaving, his eyes landed on your figure. Now, Jungkook had never believed in love at first sight. Hell, he didn’t even believe in love, so, love at first sight seemed a little – well, impossible. But here you were, the reason why Jungkook felt like his heart was going to come out of his ribcage, it felt as if Jungkook had been struck by cupid, because the way you looked so adorable in your pink dress had left Jungkook feeling giddy. Seoul had a lot of pretty girls, he saw them every day, some of them even deserved to be on the cover of Vogue – but you, you were different, Something about you, your vibe, your pink cheeks and eyes that curled up when you smiled, something about you was difference.

Jungkook looked down at his letter of quitting, and simply tore it down when saw your figure leave the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe this, you see one of the first years, and suddenly, you want to stay?” Jimin shouts and slams his fat book on the table, muttering curse words.

Intimidating the first years – ragging, as they called it – had always been Jungkook’s favourite thing to do. Every year he’d either make them do ridiculous tasks, like eating a living goldfish, or running around the block naked. However, this time, it was different.

He made sure he entered the class taught by the foreign professor, so he could sneak in a couple of threats without making too much of a scene in front of the directors. As he excused himself in the full class, he couldn’t help but be glad that he looked quite… intimidating today. Everyone was already, well, scared of him, but his leather jacket, motorbike, and bandages on his fingers (which are actually there because he hurt his fingers by writing too much – not from the constant fights that people think he’s immersed into), they just add to his picture.

“There’s a medical camp soon for freshmen, so I would like to make an announcement,” Jungkook smiles, but everyone can sense the chilly aura underneath that smile, “I would also like to speak in Korean, since they’re mostly fluent in it,”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon, you may continue,” the British Professor smiles back – she can’t deny him, he’s her co-worker now, after all.

“Listen to me carefully,” Jungkook lets his tongue poke his inner cheek, as he brushes back his – way too long – hair, “I’m not going to repeat this in English, and that dumbass shouldn’t get a clue of what I’m saying,” he says as he nods politely at the professor on the slightly lifted stage. Once he confirms that she can’t understand a word, he turns her back towards her, and walks across the class, staring at everyone with a predatory look in his dark eyes.

“There’s a new girl, freshman, she’s mine. Other than her, you can woo any girl you like, but if I even so catch anyone staring at her, let alone trying to get on those cute study dates, or pretending to be in the same hobbies as her,” he looks across the stadium, “you’ll end up in bandages. With a failing grade in my class.”

Jungkook can’t help but present a fake smile, “don’t look so scared, idiots, you don’t want her,” he nods off to the professor, “to think I’m saying something wrong,”

“Why does it sound like a threat?” A nameless teenager from the back speaks up, which makes Jungkook’s smile slide off faster than sound travels.

“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you. Besides, don’t even try to outsmart me, don’t worry new girls come in every year, you’ll have your chances. Now don’t sulk, or look suspicious. Circulate this message around, I don’t have enough time to go to every single unit,” he scans everyone’s face again, making sure they digested his new given information.

Once he’s satisfied, he convert back to English, “Good luck with the camp, guys. Meet you in my class tomorrow,” and with one last threatening smile, he’s gone.

“What did he say? Why did it sound like a threat?” the teacher joked once Jungkook left, and the class couldn’t help but immediately deny the threatening tone. After all, no one wanted to face Jeon Jungkook’s wrath.

Your nervous jitters were still present, and you don’t want to admit, but you did tear up a little when you saw your parent’s car become smaller and smaller as it continued to drive down the road, till it finally is so far that you can’t even make it out with your eyes.

While most people had roommates of their own year, you were stuck with a sophomore and you didn’t exactly know whether that was a good thing, or a bad one. She had made very clear about what side of room was hers, and why it was hers, and how you’re not even allowed to get onto her side – and that did make you a little annoyed, because how could someone be so pretentious, but throughout the span of three days, the pretentious-ness was definitely wearing out. She’d cook dinner for you every day, because you didn’t have a rice cooker and she did (which, you really needed to invest in a rice cooker because you can pretty much cook anything in that fucker), and she was amazing at giving advice for every single teacher out there. You still had to get used to her high use of curse words, but it’s just what made her, her.

“Oh damn, you got the worst professors out there, bro you better goddamn pull your socks up, otherwise things aren’t gonna look pretty this semester,” you heard her chuckle, as she sits on her bed with one leg on top of the other.

“Why? Who’s so bad?”

Fucking hell. You already had had enough of bad teachers, it’s almost like you were cursed because your high school teachers were literally out to get you – but you guess it was a blessing in disguise because that just made you work even harder (just to spite them, hah), and you somehow ended up here, at SNU, one of the most prestigious colleges in Korea.

“It’s actually not all that bad, you got Mr. Lee for microbiology. He isn’t all that bad, but just don’t sit in the front row unless you want spit on your face every time he talks. I swear it’s like he had a motherfucking fountain in his mouth. Also, he loves it when you submit your papers with a perfect format, so do that whenever you give his weekly assignments,” She says, all while applying on a red blood coloured nail polish.

You study your schedule once again, “What about Mr. Kang?”

“No fucking absolute way! You got Mr. Kang? Bitch, seems like the universe is tryna fuck you over,” she says, and then mumbles a curse when some of the rid pigment ends up on her skin.

“Is he bad? Strict?” you can’t help but already be scared of the semester, and it hasn’t even started yet.

“He’s the most pretentious fucker you’ll ever meet, he just thinks he’s the best professor because he graduated from Oxford. Big woo, motherfucker. Half of his class fails pretty much, the only two people to walk out of his class with an A* grade were this kid named Baek-woo or something, and of course, Jeon Jungkook,”

Jeon Jungkook. You swear you’ve seen that name before. Oh wait, ohhh, he was your biochemistry professor.

“Jeon Jungkook? He’s also a professor?” you look at your perfectly squared schedule, and you have his classes thrice a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

“You got him?”

“Yeah,”

“Don’t know if I should call you lucky or not, because I have no clue what he teaches like. All I know is he’s fucking crazy good at everything, and that he’s super-hot. Not that he’s really interested in any girls, also I personally think he’s mental or something,” your roommate had finally finished painting her feet, and was now letting them sway in the air, and dry.

She spent the next hour talking about Jungko- Professor Jeon was basically a murder, a thug, a gang member or whatever even. You just laughed at the thought of it all.

First day, and you’re more nervous than you intended to be. It wasn’t going well, at all. You had decided to look chic today, with your new (way too expensive) designer blazer, and your nude high heels, but here you were, sitting in the fourth row, wearing a red polka dress that made you look like a freshman. A high school freshman, not a college freshman.

You cursed yourself for buying a fake version of the nude heels (also, you could feel a tear forming in your eyes when you saw the heel broken, when you finally unpacked your belongings, but you sucked it right back in), you also wished your roommate was dead, because now you were sitting on your bed with a coffee stain on your blazer (no amounts of sorry could fix this disaster).

Also, you couldn’t help but notice an ungodly amount of stares thrown at you – not from hate, but just from sheer curiosity, and you were just so self-conscious because of it all, that you slipped from the last few stairs down the hostel causing your bare knees to get the nastiest scrape. Fuck, that’s going to hurt.

So when you finally settled in your Biochemistry class, you couldn’t help but well, be scared. There were rumours of Jeon Jungkook, your new teacher to be. Rumours that he used to be in a gang and dealt with drugs, and underground fights. There was a rumour that he once put a room to fire, killing almost 50 people. Also, that one time when he came to school with bandages on his hands – probably because he punched people to death, or hospitalizing them. There are rumours about him running over people on his motorcycle as well, and you can’t help but be extra conscious about this class, in fact you wouldn’t even have opt for it in the first place if you knew that Jeon Jungkook was the one teaching it. But, even since you’ve transferred, you’ve just told yourself that these were just rumours, and not everything is the truth.

Till now. He entered the class, probably not following the teacher’s dress code – you were pretty positive that leather jackets and ripped jeans weren’t exactly allowed, but he just looked so hot good, that you could let it slide. His stare lingered on you for quite a while, and you couldn’t help but fidget in your seat, avoiding eye contact.

“You, in the fourth row,”

You could see him pointing at you, but you just internally wished that it wasn’t actually, well you, that he was calling. Looking around, you see several other people in your row, maybe he was pointing towards the girl on your left that looked way more presentable than you. Or maybe it was the boy on your left with glasses way too big for his face.

“You, in the red polka dot dress, come here,” Professor Jeon looked at you, and smiled? Why would he smile when he looked at you?

(You also quickly dismissed the thought that he has the cutest bunny smile you’ve ever seen, where his eyes crinkle slightly, and his cheeks bunch up – because that’s just inappropriate, even though the age gap isn’t that big.)

He quickly examines your knees, and you swear you see a flash of surprise (and worry?), and before you can register what is going on, he kneels down in front of you, and clicks his tongue, as if wanting to scold you.

“Sit here, in the front row where I can see you,” he says, after a few seconds of inspecting your new injury, and as you adjust yourself, you can’t help but be uncomfortable from the gazes of your classmates that disappear as soon as Professor Jeon starts teaching. Getting into SNU was a nightmare, and you weren’t going to let yourself fail any classes, but instead of listening to what Jungkook was teaching – which but the way, he taught way better than any of the other staff there. But his stare. His stare was terrifying.

His aura was definitely dangerous, and red sirens were bursting in your head, telling you to keep your distance from him. His deathly stare seemed anything but inviting, and when the boy to your right asked you about the syllabus, you couldn’t help but shiver under Jungkook’s Professor Jeon’s glare. He spent the next ten minutes shouting at the poor boy, who looked as if he was about to faint any second now. Scary.

Ever since, you’ve been avoiding any contact with him, even purposely ignoring him when he asked you what happened to your knee. (You tell yourself that his sad puppy face doesn’t bother you but in reality, it breaks your heart, and every time you try to sleep, it haunts you. (You then remind yourself about the numerous rumours he’s into, and the last thing you want to get in between is drama and romance)).

The first time Jungkook heard your name was through Taehyung (no, he wasn’t jealous that Tae knew your name before him, but he couldn’t help but want to reverse back time, just so he could learn your name before Taehyung did. Why did Tae know your name before he did?), and your name was on his tongue the entire day. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, all he could think about was how your hair would feel when he would brush his fingers through it, how your hand would fit into his, how you would look in his oversized t-shirts. (Occasionally, he would also think how you would look, laying on his bed, underneath him – but the sheer thought of it gets him hot and bothered and what not, and he doesn't have the time to be fooling around, that too, with a student).

So when he saw you sitting with one hand on top of the other, in his class, he couldn’t help the smile when his eyes landed on you, you just looked so, so adorable in your little dress. The thought of you being away from him, just killed him inside so he had to ask you to sit in the front row, where he could look at you as much as he wants to, all while teaching his class. Of course, he saw red in his eyes when he saw your knees tainted with blood, and all he wanted was to wrap a bandage on it, he couldn’t bear to look at you, sitting in pain – but for once in his life, he was considerate and thought that you might not want the uninvited attention.

That consideration came to bite him in the ass, because you left before you could hear him, and as he saw you blend into the crowd, he couldn’t help but curse under his breath and want to punch the next person he sees.

There’s a lot that Jungkook changes throughout the first week of classes, he attaches a second seat to the end of his motorbike (because when you both start dating, he’ll have to take you around), and even cuts his long hair – in case you don’t like it, it could grow back anyways. He always has a packet of your favourite chocolate in the left pocket of his bag (no, he didn’t threaten the guy at the nearest 7/11 to tell him the candy you’ve been buying lately (he also denies the fact that he bought three plushies for you, that are currently sitting on his side table (the white rabbit with red cheeks reminds him a lot of you))). He can’t, but he tries to smoke way less, tries to buy less cigarettes, tries to chew gum instead, or drink more water. And he would never admit it, but he took a photo of your student profile, and set it as his wallpaper. Jimin and Taehyung exchange a couple of looks after discovering this fact, but don't say anything about it - none of their business, right?

Being an undergrad professor also has it’s perks, he can look at all your records, and well, currently, you’re failing Mr. Kang’s class – anatomy 101. Finally, a fucking excuse to talk to you, because the way you basically run after his class ends makes him think you’re avoiding him? But you wouldn’t do that to him… right?

Because of you, Jungkook has been rocking some Massive dark circles (with a capital M, because boy, they are blue and way too dark in comparison to his actual skin tone), the only reason being your existence and all he does is Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, while tossing in his bed at 3AM, thinking of how you smiled when he tried to crack a joke in the class, thinking of your pushing his fingers through your hair, thinking of how you fumbled with your thumbs before mumbling your answer to his sudden question.

“So, Y/N, what do you think out of all these,” he motions towards the options, “does not act as a restriction enzyme?”

He just wanted to coo over how your thumbs fought with each other, as you tried (key word, tried), to answer his really easy question. (It actually wasn’t even that easy, you were just too scared to get anything below a B in Professor Jeon’s class, so you ended up studying two chapters ahead of your syllabus – despite his fast pace). So, you knew the answer was Polydeoxtribonucleotide synthase, but for the love of god, you just couldn’t pronounce that word.

“It’s, uh, polydetr-,” you swear your breath was knocked out when he started walking towards you, oh God, why was he walking towards you?

“Yes, continue,” he smiles while standing, literally right in front of you. How does he expect you to answer when he’s looking at you as if you have all the answers of the universe. As if you were, I don’t know, Aphrodite or something.

“Uh, it’s the option D,”

“And that is?”

That motherfucker. He knew you couldn’t pronounce it.

“Polydo-“ you were positive that at this point you weren’t even breathing.

“Hey, just take a deep breath and try again,” He said, while taking your left hand in his own, and massaged it. You were positive everyone in the lab was looking at you, but their stares didn’t even compare to your hot teacher’s burning gaze.

“Poly-deo-,” you take a breath in,”x-tribo-nucleotide synthase,”

“That’s right, the answer is Polydeoxtribonucleotide synthase,” Jungkook says without having any trouble with the word, and before he gets away from you, he smiles in your direction, and says, “Good girl,”

You’re left to yourself wondering if this is a dream or if that just happened.

Jungkook’s day was going just terrible. His landlord had to be the cheapest bastard he knows, who just wouldn’t fix the water system, so for a week he was basically stuck with showering with ice cold water. On top of that, he was wearing a bruise on the left side of his face, it was all red and blue because last night he was too drunk to notice his book shelf that he installed last week.

He was supposed to be in the cafeteria right now, because at approximately 1:30 PM, your stupid microbiology class ended, and you headed straight to lunch after that, before your anatomy class. It had been, well give or take, around two weeks since the semester started, and he thought he would get over you soon, but you were just so goddamn adorable, and cute, and all Jungkook ever wanted was to squish your cheeks and press your body closer to his.

He finally reached the bustling cafeteria, ugh, he absolutely hated the noise there – so he never really ate there, preferring the quite café around the corner, but he knew you were on some sort of dumb student meal plan that only profits the university, and not actually you.

He’s expecting to find you sitting with your laptop (with a red smiley star sticker on the top right, which is just goddamn adorable (and no, that definitely isn’t the reason why Jungkook too, has a red smiley star sticker on his laptop now)). But you’re there, with some random ugly boy’s arm sprawled over your shoulder, as you giggle repeatedly at his bad jokes.

He sits on the table on your right and loudly slams his old anatomy book, before taking a seat. Here he was, all prepared with notes on what you were failing, all ready to teach you what you didn’t understand, spending all night making flashcards (he also ripped that one flashcard where on one side he wrote, “Will you go out with me?” and the other side blank, so you could write your response. He argues with himself that it wasn’t because he was shy or scared you’d say no – it was because it’s too cheesy).

His blood just boils when he sees you not removing – he finds out the boy’s name is Kim Seokjin – his ugly hand from your own, and just gets up and walks away after you giggle for the nth time on his not even funny jokes.

(Later that night, Jungkook tells himself he’s way better than that Seokjin bastard, even if Seokjin’s skin is flawless, and even if he has a handsome smile, and even if he can cook, and even if he can make you smile. Jungkook couldn’t have flawless hands because of all the callouses he has from writing too much, and his bruises might take a while to heal (he even puts an icepack on them now), and he could learn how to cook something other than instant noodles, and he could learn some jokes from the internet. He could be better than Seokjin, he would be better than anyone for you).

You love the feeling when things go perfect, and today was just so perfect. You fried an egg, all round a perfect circle and the yolk didn’t even break – which it always does when you flip it. Then, you sharpened a pencil and somehow the nib came out more than perfect, which made you all giggly and what not. Everyone in your friends circle at this point knew that you were the biggest hoe for cute stationery. Then, your anatomy class got cancelled and you were just so happy, and you even made a new friend today, Kim Seokjin.

You were a little uncomfortable when he smoothly glided his right arm over your shoulder, but he was just so funny, and he bought you the special menu items today – so you couldn’t even complain. After all, you really looked at him as a big brother because all he talked about was how his roommate was a complete asshole.

(“I told him to get me some water – which he should, because I’m older than him, and he should totally respect me,” he says, with an exaggerated and exasperated sigh.

“And he did what?”

“He brought a glass full of ice and told me to wait,”)

The one thing that you were, in fact really over thinking was about that one professor of yours. Jeon Jungkook. As you let the water cascade down your body in the tiny (really tiny) cubicle of the washroom that you shared with your roommate, Hye-jin.

“I noticed Kook looking at you in the cafeteria that day, y’know the whole campus is talking about it,”

“Uh, yeah, it’s kind of hard not to notice,”

“I’m guessing you don’t know about the whole speech he gave in that one class at the start of the semester?”

Jungkook doesn’t really believes in love at first sight, but after stalking you on social media, he knew he was a goner for you. (Especially after that one video of yours where you’re trying to pet a dog, but the dog runs away, and you end up pouting at the camera. (Yes, he screen recorded the video and watched it a billion times before sleeping)).

He has never had the urge to protect someone other than himself, and maybe his friends. But you, it was different with you – he doesn’t know if it was the small chub in your cheeks, or the way your ears would turn red when he would ask you something, or the way you would walk, or the way you slapped your thigh when you laughed, or the aroma of your citrus shampoo when you would walk past him, or your habit of getting coming down to the convenience store to grab ramen every Thursday night at 10 PM.

He doesn’t know it, but he knows he’s meant to love you, meant to keep you in his life, meant to be yours, and meant to make you his.

He has endured, yet another week where he hasn’t talked to you – and not gonna lie, it’s actually driving him crazy. Every day he sees you talking to Seokjin and laughing with others, while he sits and does nothing other than gawk at you.

During class, while he did occasionally glance your way, he still has 73 students to teach, and this being his first year as a teacher, he can’t afford any sort of mishaps at all.

But every man on this Earth has their limits. And Jungkook’s limit was watching Seokjin kiss your cheek. While you did (playfully) punch him on the shoulder, and you did shout out ‘Gross!’, Jungkook was sure that you definitely didn’t mean that punch, and you definitely didn’t think he was gross.

Did you think that Jungkook was gross? Why didn’t you ever visit him during office hours? Because every single girl in his class was sure to meet him for some dumb question, or to ask for extra credit. But you didn’t. Did you like Seokjin? Did you like someone else?

The next time he sees you is on Friday, during his class and he just knows, he knows he can’t go through today without talking to you, and the only way to do that is to-

“Y/N, could you stay after class, please?” he says, without even giving you a glance.

You mutter a silent yes, and keep your head down for the rest of the class, trying your best to ignore the mumbles of the class, talking about you and why you get to be treated different from others.

“You wanted to talk to me?” you say as you walk around the long table, running your fingers along the marble shelf.

“Do you wanna go out with me?”

What. What the heck?

You chuckle, thinking it’s some sort of sick prank he’s playing, you wait for him to say ‘Sike!’ but it never comes. Then you think that maybe, just maybe he does actually want to take you out? No. No way, he probably just wants to get alone with you in an alley, where he would kill you – or even worse, sell you off.

“No, thank you. If that’s all, am I allowed to go?” you say all this, in the smallest, most polite voice possible, after all the last thing you wanted was to piss off your professor. (who might be in a gang, who knows at this point?)

“What? Why?” he says, almost panicked, and you hear a shuffle of items as he makes his way to you, trying to watch you before you leave again. He sees your face morphed into an expression of extreme boredom. Fuck, he had to do something, quick.

“Not to be rude, but Professor, I just don’t think it’s right – or even allowed for us to date,” you say, trying your best not to look at him, shuffling your bag on your shoulder, because fuck, he looked so sad – his eyes almost looked glassy, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You don’t have to date Professor Jeon, you can just date me as the graduate student here. I’m, still a student here, Y/N,”

“And? You’re also like four years older than me,”

“Three years,” he says, pouting. Ugh, he’s so cute.

“That doesn’t make it any better,”

“It doesn’t?” he sighs.

“No, I’m still your student, and you’re still my teacher,”

“Tell me, Y/N, did you take chemistry in high school?” he asks, while quickly walking to the back and mixing some chemicals that he definitely wasn’t supposed to touch without gloves on.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, I’m currently holding, uh it’s either Acetonitrile or Iodine mixed with Vitamin C,” he says, and you can see both the liquids, which he mixes together without a worry in the world.

“And? Professor Jeon, what are you going to do?” you walk over to him, slower than ever, taking one step at a time.

‘Please, call me Jungkook. Or Kook, if you feel like it,” he gives you one of his signature smiles, that you should be used to by now – but you just get flustered every time.

“Now, will you go out with me?” he asks again, this time in a much more hopeful tone.

“No,” you say, drawing out the ‘o’, when will get the clue?

“Fine, I guess I’ll just drink this,” he looks at the two glass beakers in his hands, and pours the both of them into a much bigger glass container, “and die,”

You scoff, thinking he’s bluffing, “Yeah, yeah, go on,”

Of course, he’s bluffing because there is no absolute way that he’ll be mad enough to drink goddamn Acetonitrile, unless he wants his cardiovascular system, central nervous system, liver and kidneys to, I don’t know, stop working.

“I’ll ask this again, Y/N, just one date, will you go out with me?” he says, while picking up the glass container, closer to his face, and you actually want to play this game till the end. No way is he going to drink this.

“No,”

“Okay then,” he puts his lips on the container, and by now, you’ve actually started to get a bit scared. What if he does it? What if this crazy idiot actually drinks the fatal formula?

And then it happens. He drinks it. He fucking drinks it.

“What the fuck? Jungkook!”

“I’ll ask you again, will you go out with me?” he says after taking the biggest gulp ever. Is this his way of attempting suicide?

“Yes! Yes, oh god, I’ll go out with you!”

“Don’t say it like you’re doing me a favour,” he says, attempting to take another sip of the deadly liquid.

“No! I- Can you stop doing that? Stop drinking it! I’ll go out with you. In fact, I want to go out with you! Really!” you shout, trying to take the container away from him, scared shitless.

“Fuck, do I call 911?” you say, as you attempt to take your phone out of your 110 pound heavy bag. Then you hear him chuckle and throw away the remaining odourless, colourless solution.

“Relax, it was just water, I was just trying to scare you, but hey! You’ve agreed to a date with me, so it’s a win-win isn’t it?” Jungkook smiles sloppily, perching his elbow up on the table and letting his chin rest in his palm.

You can’t believe him. You really can’t.

You pretend to pick something up from the floor, “Professor, it seems you dropped something on the floor,”

“What?” he tries to look at your hand, to see what’s there, and just as you get his attention, you smack him across the face.

“Your common sense, you moron! What the hell were you thinking? Even if that was water, this could have traces of some really harmful chemicals and you ought to know better because you’re a goddamn teacher how could you be so careless you could have actually died-”

“But I didn’t, and now you’re going out with me,”

You can’t help the smile that creeps on your face, as your eyes glass up. You really had thought that he was going to die, or at the very least – harm himself severely.

“You’re so dumb, Jeon,” you say as you punch him, trying to suck your tears right back in – but they weren’t co-operating at all, and you let them fall down across your cheeks, causing Jungkook’s, breath to hitch up as soon as he sees them.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you crying? No, please don’t cry! Oh no, oh, I didn’t mean to… I was trying to make you laugh…” Jungkook says as his heart runs at 850 BMP a minute, trying to caress your face, trying to stop the tears from filling your eyes.

“What kind of sick-o would laugh at their professor dying? Are you mental?” you choke out, while trying your god-darn best to stop crying, because he was very much alive and right in front of you.

“I’m sorry, oh god, what should I do? What do girls like?” Jungkook was absolutely mortified. The first time he has ever talked to you – and he manages to make you cry. He totally royally fucked up. Big time.

He almost googled, ‘how to stop girl from crying’ and reading the wiki-how page, but decided against it, and hugged you – because that’s what his therapist told him to do when he hurts his loved ones. He would never – it wasn’t in him to physically ever hurt you. He couldn’t even bear the thought of that ever, and so when he did hug you, your sobbing decreased by a lot, and he felt much much better. Also, after holding you in his embrace, he realized how much he needed you to be next to him – to say Jungkook was touch starved is an extreme understatement, he loved the way he could you fit under him, the way your hair had a citrusy aroma, the way your arms hugged him back, it was comfortable. And Jungkook was positive that he could stay like this forever – if needed to.

You didn’t realize when he hugged you, but when he did, you were finally over the shock of thinking your crazy, dumb and hot professor had actually had some water instead of some deadly chemicals – and you weren’t the cause of his death. You wanted to hate him, but how could you? How could you just judge him upon some rumours that were just there to fit in the pieces of his live that he wouldn’t let other people know?

“I- I have a faculty meeting in five minutes,” you hear him speak, the vibration passing through his body – shaking you with it.

You clear your throat before letting go, and can’t help but feel the embarrassment rise out of you, in the form of red cheeks. You keep your head down, as he walks out the door of the lab, leaving you behind – but right before he leaves, he reminds you of your current situation, “Can’t wait for our date, sweets!”

Asshole.

From Unknown Number

[1:38 AM]

Y/N-ieeee

r u sleeping

this is kook btw

To Prof JK

[1:40 AM]

how did u get my num??????

also do u not THINK before assigning all this hw :(

From Prof JK

[1:41 AM]

u should be sleeping rn bby

all i assigned was some reading???? and some worksheets????

is it too much????

im so sry

To Prof JK

[1:50 AM]

well i do have a life outside of hw yknow

also im a huge procrastinator lmao

From Prof JK

[1:51 AM]

:( why r u taking so long to reply

r u busy

r u sleepy

also what life???? i’ve only ever seen u either at the library or the internet café down the street

whats my name saved in ur conatcts ;)))))

i saved urs as princess <3

To Prof JK

[1:54 AM]

it’s prof jk

From Prof JK

[1:55 AM]

thats boring :( im ur future bf now

also wanted to remind u the date is tomo so be ready

You don’t think before you change his name to Kook ‘Jungkook’.

To Jungkook

[1:57 AM]

oh yea how could i forget the fact that u tried to fake poison urself

also what?? date???

From Jungkook

[1:58 AM]

first of all, im so sry abt that i’ll buy u ur fav chocos

second of all, BRO

U LITERALLY SWORE U WOULD GO ON A DATE WIT ME

U PROMISED ME

To Jungkook

[2:01 AM]

i guess i changed my mind lololol

From Jungkook

[2:02 AM]

y????

look i know its weird some nuts prof asks u to go on a date with him

i know u don’t know me

but i know me

and i know i would do anything 4 u

i’ll be anything u want me to be

i can be smart

i can be funny too

i can try to cook for u maybe???? some pasta???

i could dance 4 u?????

To Jungkook

[2:06 AM]

dance????

no offense prof, but u seem so stiff

no way u can dance

From Jungkook

[2:08 AM]

is that a challenge…???

just tell me what u want and i’ll be that for u

To Jungkook

[2:09 AM]

u r dumb

From Jungkook

[2:10 AM]

i could be that

if u want me to be

come on, just ONE date i promise i’ll leave u alone after that if u don’t like it

To Jungkook

[2:13 AM]

mm… sis i guess u should start to figure something out then

bcz this aint good enough

see ya

From Jungkook

[2:14 AM]

ugh i cant force but :( pls?

istg itll be the best day of ur life

To Jungkook

[2:15 AM]

yea ok whatever u say im not going anywhere with u

night

From Jungkook

[2:16 AM]

goodnight!!!!!!

Don’t think too mucb about me

much*

To Jungkook

[2:18 AM]

In ur dreams

From Jungkook

[2:32 AM]

oh u do come in my dreams ;))

✓ Seen by princess <3

The next couple of days, you get some… gifts from a not so secret admirer. And you definitely didn’t change him name from ‘Prof Jeon’, to ‘Jungkook,’ to ‘Jungkookie <3’ in the span of 11 days. (And you most definitely didn’t feel giddy from inside every time you received a notification that read, ‘One New Message from Jungkookie <3’.

“You’re not very subtle, Professor Jeon,” you stay around after his class, watching him put away his books in is leather back. You can tell he was surprised by your action of staying back, but you had to put a stop to what was happening.

The next morning after he texted you for the first time, you had a Huge – with a capital H – bouquet of red roses, and you’ll admit you teared up a bit after looking at it, after all it was your first time receiving flowers from a boy (or man? (a man that was actual eye candy, but you’ll never admit that)).

Two days later,

From Jungkookie <3

[1:53 AM]

look outside

To Jungkookie <3

[1:54 AM]

dont tell me u r outside dumbass its like 2am

Lo and behold, Jungkook’s standing in the middle of the road, holding a single red rose and smiling. There’s a stark difference between his current self, and his demeanour during class – now the moonlight hits his unmade fluffy hair and cheeks, making him look years younger than he is. You can’t help but shout, ‘You idiot! You’ll catch a cold!’ while probably waking up several angry sleep deprived students in the process, but you can’t help but laugh at the way he dances for you. On this cold, lonely night, he brought you the warmth you didn’t know you needed.

It seemed that after that, Jungkook and you were the talk of the town, people would wait for both of you to get together, place bets on when you would finally say yes to him. On the other hand, you received candies from him, you had access to the teacher’s lounge coffee (which was honestly a huge plus point, now you could save five dollars on watery coffee, and have some actual caffeine), and he had pre-paid the 7/11 dude $500 in cash, so he wouldn’t even accept your payments now. The one thing that you actually appreciated him the most for was that he made you flashcards for Mr. Kang’s class (which you were failing, real bad), and while it wasn’t much, you still bumped you ‘F’ to a ‘D’, that just remained the highlight of your goddamn month.

To Jungkookie <3

[2:08 PM]

JUST GOT MY TEST BACK AND GUESS WHAT BITCH

From Jungkookie <3

[2:09 PM]

hi baby girl

:( i’ve noticed u r cursing a lot nowadays

To Jungkookie <3

[2:11 PM]

i’ve noticed u calling me baby lately but u don't see me whining so stfu

ALSO I DIDN’T FAIL

i mean i still kinda failed but it’s not a F

From Jungkookie <3

[2:13 PM]

im so proud of u, u r so so so smart

:( i wonder if u would let me teach u maybe???? tutor u???

✓ Seen 2:15 PM by princess <3

One of his much, much grander displays of affections was, well, kind of weird, he bought you a penguin. You were a proud, and extremely happy mother of a cute penguin named Otis.

From Jungkook <3

[9:07 AM]

ok but what would u want as a pet

To Jungkook <3

[10:38 AM]

penguin!!!!

You knew it must’ve cost him a fortune, and his job as a professor must not be enough, but you had always dreamed of being able to hold the certificate of your baby, and be able to monitor it, and be able to be the one to feed it (well, not literally). And he had to pay for his own grad school fees, which must be a total nightmare on its own – here you were, in his class, waiting for him to pack up so you could maybe pay him back a little?

By no means could you afford a $3000 penguin, but you could maybe ask him if there’s something you could do?

“So, Prof, how would you like me to re-pay you?” you honestly half expected a sex joke on his part – maybe because he looks like a fuckboy on steroids and snorts a lot of protein powder before hitting the gym.

“Um, maybe a hug?”

Oh. Ohhhh. Oh. Unexpected. Okay. Calm yourself down.

“A hug?” you tried not to look at his face, because you knew if you did, it would be hard, way too hard to be able to resist him. You knew he was all dangerous, and bad boy and what not – but, this man, the one with the bunny smile and the fluffy hair, and the one who smelled more like freshly baked bread rather than the axe cologne spray you had imagine, he wasn’t a gang member or a delinquent. He was simply asking for love.

“Why a hug?”

“Just… never really hugged anyone properly,” Jungkook knew he wasn’t asking for much. He could’ve asked for a date, or a kiss, or just anything, but all he wanted was to hold you.

It had been a hard week for him. Being a grad student wasn’t easy no matter how many hours of study you pull in, and no matter how much knowledge you attained – while he was way better off than his peers – he knew he couldn’t afford the failure – he was just starting to feel less and less like a human, and more like a robot. Also, it wasn’t easy to be an undergraduate professor – in fact, it was fucking hell. Your peers, and the entire fucking batch was just so hopelessly dumb – he doesn’t want to admit but he even cringes at some of the mistakes you made (who mixes up chemicals! They’re the most difficult to mess up!) and he hated it when he would just have to give you a ‘C,’ instead of the ‘A,’ you actually deserved (because you’re so smart and he can see it! But you’re also so stubborn, sigh).

Lately, it seems like without his therapist, life just seemed more difficult. When he looks at the broken pencils, the pieces of wood sitting on his table, the teared up paper, and the headache he was constantly in – he’s taken back to the 12 year old Jungkook who couldn’t control his hands, who did nothing but hurt those around him. He looks at his hands, he hates them, they hurt people without his permission.

Sometimes, he would cry, because why couldn’t he simply control himself? Why did his anger, the red in his eyes, the strength of his arm always win over his subconscious and ability to think correct? Why couldn’t he simply re-do a question he got wrong instead of breaking pencils and tearing up everything apart? Why were there numerous holes in the wall covered by posters? Why did this animalistic rage always win over him? Why him?

Jungkook spends the night dreaming of actually being able to help patients, and operating instead of simply… being useless.

So, in that moment, he just wanted comfort. Simple as that. He doesn’t recall anyone ever hugging him in his life, maybe half sided hugs from coaches and professor, or the ones that Tae forces onto him, but other than that, Jungkook has never had an interest in physical contact with people – always thinking it was way showing vulnerability, but with you, he just wanted to be normal.

He didn’t want you to know him as the weird, crazy idiot with anger management issues, or the druggie who smokes weed 24/7, he just wanted you to know him as the real Jungkook he is. The real Jungkook who has iron man socks, and has a fear of microwaves.

So when you do hug him, and feel his arms by your side, and you can’t help but want to stay this way. Surprisingly, it isn’t you who breaks the hug, and you actually want more of it, more of that soft feel of his black shirt against your cheek, more of his hard arms closing you in, more of his warmth.

You clear your throat, and… you don’t know what to do.

“So, um, thanks y’know f-for Otis. You really didn’t have to, I mean I appreciate it I really do, it was more than anything anyone’s every done for me y’know? So like, um, yeah, I uh-“ you mentally curse yourself, just stop speaking already.

“You named it Otis? That’s such a basic penguin name,” Jungkook chuckles, hoping to make you even slightly mad, and the fact that you looked at him with an expression of shock and anger just added to his satisfaction.

Just like that, the awkward layer in the air no longer lingers, and settles to soft banter, something you enjoyed.

“Excuse me? It’s like, the cutest name ever, and whoever thinks against that is a total meathe-“

“I’ve never seen someone be angry and look adorable at the same time,”

“Well, mama didn’t raise no bitch, I will adorably kick your ass, Jungkook,”

“On a first name basis now? Guess I’m making progress,”

“I hate you so much,”

And now twelve minutes and seventeen seconds later, here you both were, sitting on the bench outside the local 7/11, sharing an egg and ham sandwich.

By no means did Jungkook ever mean to have his first lunch with you like this, he had planned it all out, first date, 100 day anniversary, his first ‘I love you,’ speech, the gift for your birthday in January – he didn’t expect to sit on the side of the road at the old, rusty (and really uncomfortable) bench, eating a one dollar sandwich.

You make fun of Jungkook after his high five got rejected by a passing by 5 year old-ish kid with his mom.

“He hates me,” Jungkook pouts and looks at his left hand with such sorrow and anguish that you can’t help but let the laughter bubbling in your throat let out.

“He was like 5,”

“Still, he totally ignored me as if I didn’t exist,”

You don’t even realise three hours pass by, as both, you and Jungkook (two nerds united together), talk about politics, how absolutely terrible Mr. Kang is (you laughed for three solid minutes after Jungkook tried to mimic his sneer), he basically forces you to let him tutor you in anatomy, because he just can’t see you not get an A next time (you scoff and act as if you’re doing him a favour by saying yes, while from inside you screaming happily only because now your grades will be much, much higher – you’re definitely not happy because you’ll have to spend more time with the funny, cute, really nice and just overall hot guy that smells so good).

“Oh my God,” Jungkook says as he extends an arm and feels the light rain on his palm, “it’s probably going to rain soon,”

You don’t pay too much heed until 5 minutes later, it’s turns into an intense round of teardrops on the concrete under you, and you’re left to whine about how you’ll walk till your dorm – and there was no way you were going to get a taxi because you literally lived two streets away from the store.

“Let’s dance in the rain,” Jungkook runs into the narrow street, without a care in the world, and you’re left contemplating whether you should join him or not.

“I thought you were sort of mental, but now I’m fully sure your mom dropped you on the head when you were a baby,” you shout from the bench, hoping he can hear your voice despite the loud splat of each raindrop when it meets the ground.

“Join me,” he says as he tries to pull your hand lightly, hoping you would come on your own, and while you haven’t had fun in the rain since you were a child, you can’t help but want to relive the feeling of the cold water hitting you, not knowing where you end up at.

Jungkook ends up leading you, and you both end up doing a sloppy couple’s dance with his hands on your waist, and yours on his shoulders. You look into his eyes and see a childish charm, you see an affection and a purity in his smile, in the cute not so perfect teeth he possessed, and you can’t help but smile. You had never had things come to you, you were never used to this, never used you things happening to you, for you.

After a good fifteen minutes of fooling around, he ends up walking you back to the dorm – both of you a mess, with clothes clinging to your bodies, webbed fingers, wet hair and sore cheeks from smiling too much. Somehow, you didn’t want to be apart from the boy who waved you goodbye, and you don’t end up closing the door until he goes down the stairs and you can’t see his figure anymore.

To Jungkookie <3

[6:17 PM]

im gonna have to use an entire tub of conditioner to make my hair not feel like hay

PART TWO WILL COME OUT SOON XO (there will only be 3 parts).

also, just so everyone knows I absolutely adore jin, no bashing towards him, as once @kpopyandere said, and I quote: For real the closest I’ve ever been to believing in god is seeing Kim seokjin’s face. Only something divine could’ve created that.

I absolutely loved writing this even though it seems like it’s all over the place kind of lol. Been super insecure of my writing lately 🥺❤️ give me validation 🤩 jk but do let me know if you liked something or if u liked something in particular or idk also lmao sry there's no smut ;))))) wait for part two

taglist: @blkjmn @patpus @vantedollz @letmebeyour-sun @zeharilisharaban @hpnjrph @livewittykid @yzkyzkuniverse @nochuactivate @international-kpopfan @gvksp4ce @girlontheblock @kisskoos @jeonkooksgirl @hytibm @jooniescupcakes @teresaisla @lurkerarmy

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts reader insert #bts preference #jungkook scenario #jungkook reaction #jungkook fluff

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penaltbox · 4 years ago

Text

you’re my weakness - brock caufield

the biggest of thank you’s goes out to @puckyess for writing at least half of this new fic with me via text lol. if you like it pleeeease reblog and give feedback!! it means so much to me 😊 it’s a short one but i love it a lot!

__________

Ty walks by the bathroom around 9 in the morning and he’s barely struck by the music floating out from the other side of the door. He frowns and stops in his tracks, leaning towards it to try and understand what he was hearing. He smirks a little when he realizes and heads for the kitchen, ready to grab some breakfast and plan how to pick on Brock that day.

It doesn’t take long before he gets his shot and Brock comes walking out, fully dressed and smiling away. Ty laughs as soon as he sees his teammate, causing the other boy to give him a weird look.

Ty nods in his direction, a sly smile on his own face, “someone’s up early today.”

Brock feels his cheeks heat up a little but he shrugs it off. He’s sure Ty knows what his plans entail for the day considering he spent almost all of his free time with you anyways, but he isn’t about to confirm that. It apparently doesn’t deter the captain though because he keeps the questions rolling.

“Since when do you listen to Dan and Shay so much? I heard it when you were in the shower,” Ty asks again, his grin growing little by little as Brock grows more flustered.

“Why are you listening to me shower, you weirdo? And why are you in my apartment? Don’t you have your own to be at?” Brock deflects, reaching into the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

He knows exactly where he got the urge to listen to Dan and Shay so often and it’s from you. You were the reason he was always so giddy on weekends that he didn’t have hockey. You were the reason he heard love songs in a different way nowadays. You were the reason he was up and had his hair done all before 10am. He was crazy about you.

“I ended up spending the night. Robbie and I were watching some film pretty late. She coming here or are you meeting her somewhere?” Ty asks, knowing why Brock was up and ready, too.

“Here to start but I think we’re going to get food right away. She was saying she wants to try this place in Verona the other day so I wanted to take her there. Try not to pick on her too much while she’s here please.”

Ty’s smile turns soft suddenly and he’s really starting to freak Brock out.

“Dude, what’s that look for? Why are you being such a creep this morning?” Brock asks, side eyeing his teammate.

Ty nudges Brock with an elbow as he walks past him, setting his empty cereal bowl in the sink, “you’ve got it bad, huh?”

Brock opens his mouth to give him a smart comeback but the air gets stuck in his throat. He hadn’t thought too hard about it before. He knew he enjoyed being with you and knowing you were his, but had it really become something more without him realizing it?

“I mean I like her, yeah” he finally replies as his cheeks get rosier by the minute.

“Oh you just like her? That’s all it is?” Ty presses, folding his arms over his chest and looking smug.

“Yes, I like her. What are you getting at?” Brock questions, wondering why Ty was pressing so hard on the subject.

“Uh huh. Where were you last night? Whose apartment did you come from that made you late to practice two days ago? Who were you FaceTiming on the bus three nights ago? Whose place did you rush over to once we got off said bus? Who makes your face light up every time you get a text? Who do you look for every time you score?”

Brock finally has to cut him off, his cheeks feeling like they’re on fire as the realization starts to set in, “Okay, maybe I more than like her.”

“So when are you gonna tell her? How do you even bring that up to a girl? Are you gonna say it? The l-word I mean.”

Brock’s head is spinning from all the questions. How is this something Ty saw before he even knew it? Was he that obvious about it? He’s trying to piece it all together, but he knows he’s on a time crunch before you show up at his door.

“I don’t know dude! I just realized it so I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” he snaps a little and Ty immediately holds his hands up in defense.

Ty knew Brock just needed a nudge because he doubted how you still liked him after all this time, but everyone around the two of you knew just how smitten you both were with each other. Brock has another question pop into his head immediately and this one makes his stomach sink a little.

“You think she might l-...you know, be into me too?” he asks hesitantly.

Ty laughs when Brock asks because yes you absolutely have the l-word for him and Brock was just too slow to realize it.

“You both look at each other like you hung the moon. Of course she loves you,” Ty shakes his head and well, Brock pretty much wants to run and find you right then and there.

This piece of information has Brock’s head and heart running a mile a minute but his feet are frozen in place. He knows what he wants to do but he can’t seem to get his body to move quite as fast as his thoughts are running at that moment.

“Dude, what’re you still standing here for? You have somewhere to be!” Ty tells him.

Brock finally manages to pull it together but when he goes to practically run out the door you’re already there, ready to knock, with coffee in your hands. Brock freezes and Ty lets out a loud laugh that has you immediately confused.

You’re shocked to see him all flustered and Ty with the biggest shit eating grin behind him so you’re immediately a little concerned. This certainly wasn’t how most mornings went when you stopped by their place. You’re actually surprised Ty is even up yet, let alone standing there looking so smug.

“B, are you okay? You look warm,” you ask, glancing back at Ty again.

“He’s just done a lot of thinking,” Ty drops before walking out of the room quickly, or at least out of sight. You’re almost certain he’s probably right around the corner, but that’s not your concern at the moment. You don’t like the words he’d used and immediately start to think the worst.

“Thinking about what?” You barely whisper out, assuming Brock was breaking up with you.

Ty knows he pulled a little shit move but Brock needed the push. He was so nervous to bring it up but he knows he has to calm you down from the bomb Ty dropped in his lap. This isn’t at all how he would have thought telling you about his feelings would go, but here he was and he was feeling worse and worse about the scared look in your eyes as you stood in front of him.

He’s able to see your wheels turning and he can’t help but think to himself that he really does know you. He’s quick to pull you in for a hug though and reassure you it’s nothing bad.

“Hey, hold on. Don’t go down that road right now,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to look down at you. He tucks a hair behind your ear, “I want to talk to you about something serious, but it’s not a bad serious, okay?”

You can hear in the slight waiver of his voice that he’s nervous too and a million ideas are popping into your head as to why he might be like this. You two had been fine just last night so what could have changed in the short amount of time you were apart? You nod at him though, wanting to get the inevitable out of the way so you could relax or run back to your own apartment and cry sooner rather than later.

“Okay, go ahead,” you nod, trying to reassure him. He was usually a pretty open book with you and he feels somewhat guarded. It’s doing nothing to calm the bundle of nerves in your stomach.

Brock glances over his shoulder before shaking his head as he looks at you, “no, let’s go in my room. I’d rather do this somewhere more private.”

You hear a thud followed by a low ‘ouch!’ that lets you know Ty was still around the corner and you see him walk by and out onto the balcony, despite the cooler temperature outside.You know it was his way of giving you two privacy but it only fuels your dread.

Brock’s expression softens though and he reaches for the coffees that are still gripped tightly in your hands, “thank you for the coffee. I really appreciate it.”

He takes the still warm cups and sets them on the counter, motioning for you to follow him the rest of the way to his room. What once felt like your second home now felt charged with nerves and anything but comfortable. Brock steps aside and lets you into the space first, leaning back against the door after he closes it. The flood gates open before he even realizes it and suddenly the words tumble out quickly.

“I’m in love with you.”

You turn around quickly, wide eyes locking on him as your jaw drops. Did you hear him right? Did he say what you think he just said? No wonder he’d been so nervous. The lack of reaction from you, other than pure shock, had him thinking he’d made the wrong choice and it was far too early in the relationship for a confession like this.

Apparently you take too long to process his confession because he turns around suddenly, reaching for the door handle and very much ready to bolt from his own room. You somehow get your brain and body to work together and quickly make your way in between Brock and the door.

“Wait!” you say, putting your hands on his chest and looking up at him, “please don’t leave.”

You and Brock just freeze, staring at each other for a second before he breaks first, “just tell me you don’t feel that way for me yet and we can move on. I can wait to hear you say it. It’s fine.”

But you do feel the same, you’re just not sure how to say it because you’ve never said it to a boy before. You take a deep breath, your fingers flexing a little against the fabric of his t-shirt. He’s keeping you grounded in that moment and you need it so much more than he’ll ever know.

“But I do feel the same. I do love you. I’m in love with you, too,” you finally mumble, slowly looking up and locking eyes with him. The soft smile and look of adoration on his face makes your knees go weak and you feel your own cheeks start to redden.

His tone is as soft as his look when he asks, “are you sure? You don’t have to say it just because I did.”

You shake your head and lean against him, arms slipping around his waist as you finally smile, “no I really do mean it. I was just really afraid to say it first because I didn’t want to seem like a psycho clingy girlfriend or anything.”

“Does that make me a psycho clingy boyfriend then because I said it first?” he asks, but the teasing half smile you get from him lets you know he’s only teasing.

You laugh and grab the back of his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss that you intended to start slow, but it quickly heats up. Brock keeps things under control somehow, but can’t help the small moan that he lets out when you gently bite his bottom lip.

“Everyone is still home, including our random plus one of Ty. He’s probably eavesdropping right now. Plus I was going to take you out for breakfast but it’s more like lunch now if you still want to go,” he says, his hand gently rubbing up and down your side.

Small goosebumps break out under his touch, and you nod at his suggestions, “I’d love to go get lunch with you.”

A quick kiss that he intentionally keeps short is all you’re left with before he opens his door again, always letting you go first like the gentleman he was. Cole joins Ty on the couch in the living room, smiling when he sees you.

“Oh hi, didn’t expect to see you so early. Ty tells me you two finally fessed up on your feelings for each other,” Cole says, his smile just as teasing as the one on the captain’s face next to him.

You and Brock look at each other, surprise clear on both your features. Apparently you were both late to the party when it came to knowing you both were head over heels in love, but you didn’t mind. It was a party you planned to stay at for the rest of your life if you had any say in the matter.

#brock caufield #Wisconsin Hockey #ty emberson #cole caufield #mine #my writing #hockey fic #college hockey fic #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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moonlightserenadeeznutz · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, hear me out. A marauders fic of Sirius being genderfluid, Remus being a trangender man, James and/or Jily being bisexual, Peter aro/ace (if you include him) and Regulus being gender.

Absolutely! Especially since I have these headcanons anyway, so I loved writing this. Thanks for the prompt <3

~ “Remus? How did you know you were trans?” Asked Sirius one day, entirely out of the blue, causing Remus to pause for a second before answering. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all.” Remus thought for a second.

“I just did. There wasn’t a time when I didn’t know. It’s not that I only liked boy clothes and stuff, I just knew that I was a boy.” Sirius was quiet.

“So you never felt like a girl, ever?”

“Nope.” Sirius was quiet, thinking. Remus picked up on it, as he always did

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine.” ~ Sirius would spend ages in front of the mirror, but not for the reason that everyone teased him about. He wasn’t grooming himself, or checking out his hair, he was... pondering. Some days he had no qualms about how he looked, he’d glance once at his flat chest and stubble and wouldn’t think twice. But other days it made him stop. Other days he shaved, and would let his hair down which he usually wore in a bun or ponytail.

One day he wore a skirt. He’d borrowed it from Marlene- without her knowing- and had put it on in front of the mirror. It looked good on him. He liked how it looked.

He dabbled in makeup sometimes. Just some eyeliner at first, and some nail varnish. Things he could get away with. Things that just enhanced his rebellious persona. But secretly he tried on lipstick, and blush and mascara. And along with the skirt and his long hair, it made him feel fantastic.

But other days it didn’t. Other days he didn’t want to put it on, and he was happy with his jeans and leather jacket.

And then there were some days when he liked it all. Nail varnish and a skirt with his hair tied up and stubble on his chin. He was honestly so confused.

She was honestly so confused. When she first tried out female pronouns, her heart sank in her chest. She liked them. They fit. They really fit. And oh god, what did that mean?

But then some days they didn’t fit. Some days he hated them, and he couldn’t even imagine using them. And he felt relieved, because he must have been wrong.

And then the next day, she wasn’t wrong.

Remus was trans. He’d been born a girl but felt like a boy. He’d gone from female pronouns to male pronouns. He’d gone from looking like a girl to being a boy.

Was that what Sirius was going through? But with Remus, it was consistent. He was always a boy, he always felt like a boy, and he never had any desire to look, act or be a girl.With Sirius, there were no set rules. He was a boy, then she was a girl, then she was both? Neither?

‘Seriously, brain, what the fuck?’ He had to tell Remus. Remus would understand. Remus could help.

“So... you remember when I asked how you knew you were trans?” Sirius asked a few days later. They were alone in the common room. James was out at Quidditch practice and Peter was somewhere in the Great Hall. Sirius and Remus had the sofa in front of the fireplace to themselves.

“Yeah?” “Well... I don’t know really know how to say this but... I might be too?” Remus stared wide eyed at him.

“Really? You think you’re a girl? Do you want me to use female pronouns?” “Hold on, calm down,” Sirius laughed, though he understood why Remus was jumping the gun a bit. Remus knew how important pronouns were to someone like him. He didn’t want to use the wrong ones for any length of time. “Look, the thing is. I don’t actually know. Because some days I feel like a girl, and some days I don’t. So I have no idea what I want. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Okay. Well, I really appreciate you telling me. And if you need me to change pronouns let me know.” “Thank you.”

“Do you have another name?” Sirius shook his head. The only thing that had never given him dysphoria was his name. He liked his name. He didn’t want to change it. A few weeks passed. Not much changed, but Sirius was glad that at least one of her friends knew what she going through, and that she could just talk to Remus about something relating to her random, unpredictable bursts of dysphoria and Remus would listen and understand, and try to help. She could go up to Remus and say “I’m a girl today,” and Remus would reply with “okay, ma’am” without hesitation. It was nice. Though it didn’t feel like enough. She still couldn’t wear everything she wanted, and on the day she felt like a girl her other friends would still see her as a boy.

She hoped James and Peter would accept her for being... whatever she was.

~ What Sirius didn’t realise was that Regulus was going through something very similar.

Regulus had never thought about gender before. In fact he hadn’t thought much about who he was at all. It wasn’t in his nature to question anything, a side-effect from growing up in a household with such set rules about how to think and act that there was really no room to explore.

But when he was around fifteen, he began to finally question things. And it all started because of a Gryffindor named James Potter.

Regulus had always been fascinated by James Potter, ever since he caught site of him from the Slytherin table in first year. All Regulus knew about James was that he was Sirius’s best friend, a friend that his parents mostly approved of since James was part of the Sacred Twenty Eight. But what Regulus didn’t know was that James was handsome and funny and talented and cool. He didn’t know that James had black messy hair that fell all over his face when it rained. He didn’t know that James could score three goals in a row during a Quidditch match. He didn’t know that James’s laugh was so contagious that even Regulus- who unlike his brother had mastered the familial trait of keeping a stiff upper lip- couldn’t help but crack a smile when he heard the boy laughing with his friends. But now he did, and his feelings were hard to ignore.

Regulus didn’t know if his feeling towards James were normal. He didn’t know what was normal. What did people feel like? His parents were cold and distant, so they were no example. But they were the only example he had.

But he knew that how he felt about James was more than what he felt about girls. And it terrified him. He was the heir to the Black name, the prodigal son. And in Walburga’s eyes, the only son.

But he didn’t like that label. He didn’t know why. It was the son part. It felt wrong to him. Ever since he’d started thinking about James in a way that scared him, he’d started thinking more about his status within his family, and what it meant.

It meant that he was to grow up and be the man of the house, to carry on the bloodline as the male heir.

Man, male, son.

It didn’t feel right. And the feeling grew and grew until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He’d hear someone refer to him as a “he” and he overthought it until he realised that he hated how it sounded.

“She” didn’t sound much better, though it took Regulus a while to even accept the idea of trying out female pronouns. He did it once, just out of curiosity, and was relieved to find that they did nothing for him. So what was he feeling? Did other people feel like this? Surely not, but if he didn’t like being a boy or a girl then what the fuck was he supposed to do? What did that make him? What pronouns was he supposed to use that didn’t make him wince?Them? They?... oh.

Regulus. Their name was Regulus. They were in Slytherin.

That actually sounded... okay. They liked that. It suited them. They weren’t a boy or a girl. They were... Regulus. They were a person.

They were a person, who happened to really like James Potter.

~ Regulus’s feelings weren’t one-sided. James had noticed Regulus as well. He’d hid it as best he could, but there were times when he couldn’t help but stare. He noticed how good Regulus looked in green. How low and smooth Regulus’s voice was. How quiet Regulus was, and how much James wanted to talk to them.

But then there was Lily. Her beautiful red hair, those green eyes that flashed every time she spoke to him and the Scottish accent that made James melt every time she opened her mouth.

He was conflicted, to say the least. But his feelings for Lily were unreciprocated, so he allowed himself to ponder the possibility of what it would be like to date Regulus.

Would Sirius hate him? That was his main worry. He wasn’t worried about what his friends would think of him if he told them he was bi, because he knew he wasn’t the only one in his friend group. Sirius and Remus made that blatantly obvious. But if he was dating Sirius’s little brother? That was a different story.

But then, in seventh year, a miracle happened. James found himself dating Lily. The girl he’d liked since second year finally liked him back. He couldn’t believe it.

“If I’m being honest, I genuinely thought you liked Regulus.” She said one day. The topic of her changing her mind about him had somehow cropped up, and she’d stated this as a passing thought, but it made James stop dead. “Wait... you noticed?” Lily looked at him.

“You do like Regulus?!” James hesitated. “I suppose I did, yes. But I liked you too. So it was confusing.” And he hadn’t expected Lily to be the first person he came out to as bisexual.

~ Peter was suddenly surrounded by couples. Sirius and Remus, James and Lily. It’s not the couples themselves that bothered him, nor was he jealous. He quickly realised that he wasn’t jealous because he realised that he didn’t care about what they had. He was happy for them, yes. But he had no desire to partake in what they were doing.

It’s not that Peter had never been in a relationship before, because he had. Once. With a girl named Olivia. Olivia Blake from the Hufflepuff house. She was sweet, if a little scatty, and they enjoyed spending time in the greenhouses together. But Peter really only saw her as a friend, though he hadn’t yet worked out that that was how he felt. He thought that was how romance worked. If you liked spending time with someone and you got along well, then you might as well date them.

But he soon realised that that didn’t make much sense. Because then everyone would be dating everyone they’d ever interacted with if the interaction had gone well.So he thought perhaps he just needed to kiss her and then he’d start feeling a romantic attraction towards her.

But it didn’t happen like that. When he kissed her it felt like kissing a brick wall. It was just... nothing. He didn’t feel anything. And the thought of going any further than kissing was just... nothing. He really had no desire for anything romantic or sexual with Olivia.

Maybe it was just Olivia. Maybe it was girls. Maybe he was gay, like Sirius.

But no, the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he just wasn’t interested. And he never had been. He thought back through his teenage years, the years when all teenage boys were apparently at their horniest. But he hadn’t been at all. He hadn’t thought about sex. Well, he had. But mainly out of curiosity, rather than something that he was eager to try. Every time he thought about it and had been turned off by the thought, he just told himself that he was too young. ‘You’ll like it when you’re older’ he said every time.

Well he was older now, and he didn’t like it.

So what did that mean? Was he broken? Why didn’t he like something that everyone else did?

He tried, he really did. He dated Olivia for a year, desperately trying to feel something more than just platonic feelings towards her. And then he’d dated another girl when Olivia eventually broke up with him, but that relationship lasted such a short time that he didn’t even count it as a relationship. Again, he’d felt nothing.

And it really started to scare him. Surely there was something wrong with him.

But it was when he was looking around at all the different couples that he realised something: he wasn’t unhappy. The couples looked happy together, yes, but he was just as happy on his own. He didn’t feel like he was missing out, or that he should be sad that everyone was in a relationship when he wasn’t. He was perfectly content. Being in a romantic or sexual relationship would make him unhappy. So then, there couldn’t be something wrong with him. Because then he’d be affected by it, he’d be sad. But he wasn’t.

He was happy.

~ “Could you use female pronouns for me on the days I feel like a girl?” Asked Sirius. It had been a few months now since he’d told Remus how he felt, and he’d finally been ready to tell the others. James, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas. All of them. It was time they knew. “Of course! You’ll have to make sure you tell us though, so we don’t make a mistake,” said Lily, a sentiment which the entire group seemed to share. Sirius’s coming out had been successful, as he knew it would be. In fact, no one had been that surprised. And now he was finally able to be who he was. He even wore skirts sometimes, and it didn’t matter if anyone said something shitty about it, because they weren’t his friends, so they didn’t matter. They could say whatever the fuck they wanted. Sirius didn’t care, and neither did Remus, or James, or Peter or Lily or Marlene or Dorcas or...

He didn’t know how Regulus would react. In fact, he didn’t even tell him, not wanting to know the response. He just let Regulus find out for himself. And find out Regulus did. They came up to her a few days later and wanted to know why people were saying that Sirius was a girl now.

“I’m not a girl,” Sirius replied calmly. “Well... I am today. But sometimes I’m not.” “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I think it does. Sometimes I feel like a girl, and sometimes I feel like a boy. And sometimes I feel like nothing.” Regulus’s confused look dropped slightly, and they seemed shy all of a sudden. “Nothing?”

“Yeah.” “What do you mean by nothing?” Sirius thought for a second.“Well... I mean nothing. I can’t explain it. I suppose some days I’m just a boy and a girl and it feels like nothing.” “Oh.” Sirius looked at him curiously. Regulus had on an expression that Sirius wasn’t used to.

“Why?” She asked, rather gently. Regulus fiddled with their sleeves before answering.

“I feel like nothing too.” “You... do?” Sirius was shocked. Regulus felt like her? The golden boy? The favourite son? The only son? Was like her?

“Yeah. But all the time. And not because I feel like both a boy or a girl. I feel like neither. I don’t know what it means.” “Oh. Well... it’s okay to feel like that.” She wasn’t sure exactly what to say. The two hardly spoke much, and a serious and personal conversation such as this... Sirius was out of her depth.

“You think?” “Of course. How, uh... how do you want to be referred as?”

“Well, I don’t like male pronouns, or female ones. So I worked out that the gender neutral ones were they and them. So, maybe like that?” “They? So like, ‘Regulus is doing their homework, aren’t they’?” Regulus nodded.

“Yeah, like that. Exactly like that.” Sirius smiled. “Okay.” Regulus smiled back. It had been a while since the two had shared a smile.

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heroinepose · 5 years ago

Text

two a.m.

Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader Word Count: 2,316 (Yes, I lost control of this.) Warnings: None. We’re in fluff land again, friends. Someday the porn fairy will visit, but today is not that day.

Finals are stressful, even in your second year, and sleep doesn’t come easy with such a tall order ahead of you. It’s a damn good thing the company is so good.

This was written as an entry to @heroheads’ 500 follower contest! Congratulations on hitting a milestone -- your work is amazing and you deserve it!

The looming final exams are becoming a menace in more ways than one. Almost all of your spare time has been dedicated to studying, training or sleep in the last three weeks. The challenges your teachers will issue in realtime are less worrisome to you as a second-year than the ones that come on paper, now that you think you know what they’ll be like. They’ll focus more on problem-solving and working on the fly; beyond making sure you’re as physically prepared as possible, you know your time is better spent studying for the written exams and making sure you’re rested.

… which makes it all the more infuriating that you can’t sleep.

The last couple of nights in particular have been rough, but at least last night you’d managed to get a few hours of good rest. Tonight it’s been a fruitless endeavor, and the weariness settles down to your very bones as you shut the door of your dormitory behind you as quietly as possible, stepping out into the faintly humid night air with a mug of tea clutched securely in your hand. Sitting on one of the steps leading up to the entryway, you heave an exhausted sigh as you settle down, lifting your mug to your lips and inhaling the sweet, herbaceous scent of chamomile and honey.

Heights Alliance is peaceful at night. It is the one blessing attached to being up so far into the wee hours: the solitude is truly tranquil out here on the front steps, with little but the humming of the streetlights and the rhythmless chirping of crickets to distract you. With the light pollution from campus and the surrounding area, you can’t see the stars as well, but the moon hangs full and only a little hazy above the treeline, dampening the orange glow from the always-on walkway lighting. Sipping carefully at the hot liquid in your mug, you tip your head back and close your eyes, pulling slow even breaths through your nose to try to lull yourself into some kind of meditative state. If you could just relax, force your body to slow down …

You’re not certain how long you’ve been sitting like that when you hear the telltale crunch-and-slide of someone’s footfalls up the walking path to the building, eyes snapping open to see who else could possibly be up at this hour. It takes a moment for you to refocus, tired eyes struggling to make out the figure from this distance in the dark. It isn’t until he passes directly under one of the lights lining the pathway inside the gate that you can clearly make it out as your classmate, Shinsou Hitoshi, very clearly out past curfew. His hands are jammed in his pockets, eyes low but ahead of him, lost in thought. You’ve watched him for so long -- since that first Sports Festival, naturally, but particularly after he joined the Hero Course -- that it’s a posture you recognize almost as much as you recognize your own tells, and while you’re no stranger to his dark circles, you would never have called seeing him here, now.

It makes your heart swell to aching to cross paths with him alone in daylight, but the lack of sleep and the stillness of the night makes it worse. You’d tried, you really had, to simply be content with a collegial relationship with the boy who didn’t join the program to make friends, but somehow that had twisted itself into the kind of friendship he had been avoiding so adamantly. … and then, on your part at least, it had gotten worse. He's clever, straightforward, and although he's certainly reserved, he’s been a remarkable support in the last year. In hindsight, it seems natural that it would have evolved on its own, out of control. You can’t help your feelings, but you do keep them buried, certain that he’s not at all interested in you.

Rather than call out to him, you choose to wait it out, sipping idly at your tea. He doesn’t appear to notice you as he draws closer to the front steps, hidden as you are near one of the columns. You’re not actually trying to scare him, but with his face tucked penseively into the top folds of his capture weapon, he won’t notice you at all if you don’t say something. Swallowing the tea in your mouth, you manage a smile as his foot hits the second step.

“Someone’s breaking curfew,” you singsong from your perch in the shadow of the dorm, watching his shoulders hitch slightly. His hands remain in his pockets as he turns, and you lift one hand from your mug to wave good-naturedly at him when he registers your presence and inclines his head to glower directly at you.

“Someone should speak for themselves,” Shinsou mocks, although there’s no venom in it. “Should you be out here?”

“Ah, but I’m still on the front steps! I’m not out anywhere,” you reason, pointing at the remaining stairs that lead to the footpath he’s just taken through the courtyard. “Can’t get in trouble for breaking curfew if I never left, can I?”

You hear him chuckle before he changes direction, walking across the steps to sit next to you and finally removing his hands from his pockets. “I think your Hero Law scores have gone to your head. You’re drunk with power.” The backhanded praise and the grin that lingers on his face makes the heat creep into yours, and you take a long sip of hot tea to cover it.

“If only!” It’s a wistful sigh, head tipping back dramatically as you roll your eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m mostly drunk on lack of sleep.”

“Which is why you’re sitting on the steps at two in the morning,” Shinsou guesses, and you confirm the assumption with a slight shrug, turning your mug around in your hands.

“I’ve tried everything else, so I thought fresh air might help.” You nudge him with your shoulder, jostling him only slightly in his seat next to you. “Now, why are you sitting on the steps at two in the morning?”

He leans in conspiratorially, and you find yourself leaning too, before you can stop yourself. “Because some creepy woman lurking in the shadows startled me.” Your face falls.

“Shinsou,” you scold, and he cracks a smile, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Seriously, you were already gone when I got out here and you’re only just getting back. Where did you go?” A thought occurs to you, a mild tightness in your chest, and you risk asking the question in the form of a joke. “Did you get a secret girlfriend when none of us were looking?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmurs, averting his gaze and dropping his hand so both of his elbows rest on his knees. There are a few beats of silence between you.

“... secret boyfriend?”

He moves, as if to stand, with a great sigh. “Okay, I’m going inside --”

“I’m joking!” You’re whisper-shouting, to avoid calling attention to either of you, tugging on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Shinsou, please. I know, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry I asked.”

The movement stops, and he settles on the step next to you, reaching over to take your mug right out of your hand. You’re so startled that you don’t stop him, watching him lift it slightly. “If that’s what you think, maybe you’re drunk on whatever is in here, not power. When would I have even had the time?” He reaches behind the both of you to set it down as your fingers slip from his sleeve, the dull clink of ceramic against concrete surprisingly loud in the quiet of the night.

“It’s just tea,” you grouse, but you make no move to reclaim it. The brush of his arm against you is comfort enough to replace its warmth -- that and the relief that he isn’t off seeing someone, not that you have any right to feel that way. “Anyway, I’m entitled to be a little worried when my friends wander home so late.”

“Your friends come home after midnight that often?” Shinsou’s tone is light; he knows he’s caught you out. He’ll make you say it, though, because that’s always his game.

“No,” you sigh. “You’re the first. Still ...”

There’s another lull where he says nothing, considering you as you look out into the empty courtyard. Your brows are furrowed, like you’re thinking much too hard about something. Maybe it’s the late -- early? -- hour, but he seems emboldened slightly by your aversion to looking at him.

“Still …?” He presses. “Why would you worry about me?”

Your breath hitches a little when you draw a breath to respond, cutting your eyes over to him briefly as you choose your words. His dark circles are more pronounced here in the shadows, and maybe it’s the way the fiber of his capture weapon looks like spun silver at night, but it brings up a flood of concern you haven’t voiced since he was accepted to the hero program at the start of the year.

“You worked so hard to get here,” you say, words slow and deliberate. You’re concentrating so hard on being careful that you fail to notice how he stops breathing. “I think you might have worked harder than anyone else I know. Saying it out loud sounds stupid, I guess, but I worry about how you handle it all.” One breath and you’re rambling, mind racing with the effort to dance around what you want to say: that you care for him, that you’re always cheering him on, but how much he worries you. “You deserve to be here, Shinsou. You deserve to become a hero, and you’re -- you’re my friend, and sometimes I worry that if you’re not taking care of yourself --”

It happens so quickly you’re not quite sure how he’s done it, but you’re silenced by the assertive tug of fingers beneath your chin, pulling you to face him. Then all you can feel is his lips on yours, the scent of cedar and something faintly minty overwhelming you, and even the crickets seem to stop. All you can process is the fact that oh, he’s kissing you. Shinsou Hitoshi just kissed you.

You feel as if you might implode. It’s soft, and warm, but unpracticed -- somehow, though, it’s everything you’d imagined it would be, the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours. You didn’t think he’d be the type to really go for it on the first try like others you’ve kissed who were all teeth and tongue right out of the gate, and a private part of you is gratified to be right, a shiver working its way down your spine as he adjusts his fingers against your jaw.

He pulls away carefully, but the warmth in your chest spurs you on, looping your fingers in the capture weapon draped around his neck to pull him in again, lean in further. You feel him sigh against you, a soft exhale through his nose, and can’t help the twitch of your lips into a smile against his. You hold him there a few long seconds more before you pull away, realizing how warm your face is now that he’s not so close.

“Finally,” Shinsou breathes, his voice close to a whisper. “Took you long enough.” Your jaw drops immediately, hand still curled in the fabric draped along his shoulders.

“Me?” You say, loud enough to actually get him to shush you quietly, reaching up to grab your hand where it rests against his capture weapon in an attempt to distract you, calm you down. It works, if only because the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours sends something akin to electricity rocketing up your arm. You take a breath, release it in a huff, before lowering your voice. “What about you, Mr. I’m Not Here to Make Friends, and Therefore Not Date People?”

The man in question quirks a brow, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I don’t believe I ever said that last part.”

“Does one not kind of preclude the other?”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view,” he laughs, “but we can argue semantics in a few hours if you’re really that hung up on it.”

“Shinsou!” It’s more of a hiss than anything, trying to regulate your volume as he lets go of your hand, reaching behind you for your long-forgotten mug and standing up at last. You’re pouting up at him when he offers you the other, his grin only a little smug as you take it and allow him to pull you up. He uses the momentum to pull you into just one more kiss, little more than a brief peck against your lips, a way to silence your argument for now. You let him, breathing deeply as he pulls away.

“It’s late. Just sleep on it,” he offers, “and if you still feel that strongly about it in the morning, let me walk you to class so you can yell at me some more.”

That sly bastard. You smile in spite of yourself, watching him as he pulls you up the stairs, closer to the door. Once inside, he keeps hold of your hand as you deposit your mug in the sink -- you can deal with the whining about leaving things there in the morning -- parting ways with you only when you need to split up and head to your respective sides of the building, barely-there whispers of goodnight and seriously, go to bed the last of your affectionate gestures for the moment. The full weight of what’s occurred on the front steps hits you as the elevator doors close, leaning against the interior wall and looking at yourself in the reflection of the metal.The smile stuck on your face widens a little, giddy with the knowledge that he likes you back.

Suddenly, a peaceful few hours’ sleep doesn’t seem so difficult.

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #heroheads 500 follower writing contest #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #i still don't know what tags to use aaaaah #anyway i'm glad i could write this!!!#even if i lost all control over it at some point

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sunarintoes · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #fluff #x reader #angst #oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

uu abt homebound au, what goes on with racer! hobi and jk?? i guess this is kinda a request? thanks ilysm :")

homebound: koo’s pov

a lil homebound special that’s in jungkook’s pov and u get to see what’s going on in his noggin :D

glimpse: kook’s a protective best friend, hobi is a hyung that he never knew he needed, aND he just needs y/n as his forever emotional support shoulder :D

wordcount: 3k

notes: aHHHHH first of all i love you too!!!! write that down pls

this is a spin-off because earlier, i made a drabble from a request about jimin and y/n’s tough love relationship as crew chief x crew member!!! i loved making that piece they r so dynamic :D

read homebound the fic!!!

it’s not easy being jungkook

ugh yeah he kNOWS he’s handsome and talented and charismatic but gOd this is getting out of hand now

he has to save your ass

AGAIN

well not literally your ass,.,. it’s your thumb this time

he’s met you like what?? two months ago and you’re already a handful!!! LOOK AT YOU

“g-googie pLEASE just h-help me i can’t do it mYSELF!!!”

if only two months ago, jungkook was pulled from basketball practice and shoved into the empty-looking gymnasium AND sat in the front instead of the back right next to you

if only he hasn’t opened his mouth and told that he liked your softball uniform aND coincidentially found a fellow athlete that lit rally only joined sports for the uniforms.,.,..

if only he didn’t reciprocate by saying that he joined basketball for the fluffy warmers.,.,..

HE WOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW

he wouldn’t deal with you calling him urgently and sAying it’s of a great emergency and that he had to sprint from the other side of campus grounds to where you were

you wouldn’t be right here sat on the ground, hand outstretched for him to mend as he’s only giving you a sCOWL of disbelief

ok fine

jungkook doesn’t regret you being his best friend but he dOES regret having a weak spot for you

“didn’t i specifically tell you NOT to play softball and take it easy for awhile???”

“b-but-...”

“and now someone was being a big dummy and then dISLOCATED her thumb and she’s made ME run all the way to the field because she’s tOO scared to pop back her dislocated thumb and wants ME to do it for her!!!!!”

you are Insufferable

u really are

he can’t help but feel agitated ok

he’s just so stressed and he almost got a near-flunking store at the calc test awhile ago and he studied!!! he studied for THREE hours and he was about three wrong answers away from being failed!!!!

meanwhile you sleep at that class and you bARely even studied because last night you were just calling him up to ask if you were down drinking some shots with you and then yOU pass????

also also!! his basketball coach has been extra tough on him lately and he isn’t even doing anything wrong!! he passes the ball and how come it’s HIS fault that the one he’s passed it to doesn’t make a score???

how is it hIS fault that this guy was an utter dUMBASS

on top of that, the pit crew training is taking a massive toll on his body and this particular time,, it’s jungkook’s only few breaks

and you just hAD to dislocate your thumb and be scared shitless of popping it back

hold on

are you uh.,...

are you crying

jungkook’s flustered a tON because uhHHh he’s not exactly the best person when it comes to these things

there was one time when jungkook added so much wasabi underneath your california maki to the point that you were CRYING

and sue him he didn’t know what to do

everyone in the restaurant thought the two of you were a couple and now there’s a LOT of angry stares aimed towards jungkook and that makes him sweat a little

that one buff guy who’s chopping the squid even sTopped what he was doing and that makes kook audibly gulp

jungkook was a tiny bit intimidated and so he did the next big thing

panickedly threw the packet of tissues to your face :D

lmao he’s gotten a lot better since then

“okay, okay, i’m sorry for yelling at you :((“

god he should know better

i mean you are in physical pain already and you don’t need him yelling at you now, do you??

after all jungkook did have this one big splinter on his thumb when he was doing something stupid aND although you were angry and amused, you didn’t yell at him

ok fair

he’s setting his things down and he had to coax you to give him back your hand because u retracted it when he yelled

“on the count of three, okay?? one, two....”

you’re already wincing and jungkook has to be swift with this when he doesn’t want to prolong your pain

aLTHOUGH this reminds him of how you have to distract him from the pain when he has you pluck out some of his eyebrow hair so they don’t form a unibrow

“two.... you’re still not — two.,..., you’re the one who’s supposed to adjust not me...,.,. t- yO IS THAT MIN YOONGI???”

“wHAT WHERE-“

pOp!!!!!

that shit hUrts

min yoongi is an especially good trigger point for you because jungkook, cannot, and especially cannot stress to how you have a crush on that guy sO bad

he’s a racer ok sure

ehhhh his skills are so-so

honestly he doesn’t even know if this yoongi guy is actually great at racing,,, maybe it’s just his family name that gets him where he’s at ya know....

“don’t joke with me like that! i’m telling you, jungkook — one day i’ll work with min yoongi.”

he snorts at that as he’s holding your hand up, checking to see if there’s any bruising or the sort

he wants to make sure nOw that you’re okay and not have anything else pop up later because he doesn’t want you ruining his alone time again

“yeah. mhmmm. sure you will.”

uGh where would you be now without jungkook

what was LIFE before jungkook

you’re that grateful for him

jungkook’s been avoiding you a liTTLE and you’ve been noticing it but you just didn’t prod into it

the dish was that he thinks he likes you

it’s just this roulette going on in his head

do i like y/n OR have i just been so starved from affection and companionship that i immediately the nearest person to me as someone i love?????

aha it’s the second option :D

you and jungkook fight a lot tho that’s no surprise

it could be over on the most stupid things ever for discourse and well as sensitive as you were, jungkook was even mORE sensitive

one time he cried when not only you gave him the silent treatment, but also literally pretended that he was iNVISIBLE and even got some people in on it

yeth it was a petty fight over stubornness and a sorta petty solution bUt it did give you some peace

what made it even worse was because you befriended these new guys!!!

the kim line!!! jin and namjoon and taehyung were quite the eye-catching trio over on their department and you kNow that jungkook was annoyed by them

actually they were very likeable and jungkook’s just annoyed at them for no apparent reason

and when you ignore jungkook for the whole day AND have the kim line over on your lunch table,,,

when kook offers you a tray of the best batches for your cafeteria food and even a fresh cold carton of chocolate milk,,,,

then pretend you didn’t even hEAR him nor SEE him when he was holding up the tray for you,,,

he absolutely cries because w-why are you :(((( i-i-ignoring me :(((( please d-don’t :((((

fighting and crying has been at an all-time low ever since that particular one

he was so frustrated that he didn’t even notice jin patting his back and he bARELY even knows jungkook

namjoon’s acting as a shield so no one could see that this guy was absolutely Losing it

taehyung’s trying his best to shove some tissues underneath jungkook so he could wipe them down

but this time

tHIS time

it’s jungkook who doesn’t know what to do

it’s you who’s crying so painfully that he’s sure not even the kim line could help try and fix

“he’s just sO — yoongi is uNBEARABLE!!”

oh it’s him again huh

jungkook wasn’t sure at first on how he’d process the news that yeah sure the two of you were the ones chosen to be the victors of the program

but it meant that the two of you were gonna work for different teams and now that just doesn’t make any sense.,...

sure he’s happy because he gets to work for jung hoseok!!!! the racer he’s in awe with and thank god because he didn’t want to work with-

ew he’s shuddering

min yoongi

yOU’RE the one who’s working for him and well!! you should be happy!!! why are you CRYING

jungkook was so nervous meeting hoseok for the first time

he wanted to please everyone so bad it wasn’t even funny :’)

he’s bought four boxes of donuts for his fellow pit crew members alone

hoseok was special special

he gets his OWN dozen and on top of that, kook even made him a crepe cake

from s c r a t c h

that was the most time-consuming jungkook’s ever spent in making food and he is pOsitive that he doesn’t ever want to subject himself to that again in his life

( with the exception for jung hoseok of course hehe )

jungkook’s kinda burnt himself on the pan atleast three times and he was a sweaty mess by the end of cooking it because again

wHO has the time to make crepe cakes????

deadass even bought a lil cooler with him just because he wants to impress his boss even more :)))

:))) tiny lil ice cream cups :)))

“hi!! nice to meet you, i’m hoseok!! why are you holding tHAT big of a bag??”

jungkook was starstruck for sure because wow jung hoseok was kIND???

normally being famous and being kind don’t exactly belong in the same sentence

but uHHhh his idol is right here in front of him being polite and cool and not coming off as snobbish??? wow

“for you, sir — uH sir jung?? uHm-...”

“oH! no, no-...”

“ho — sir???”

hoseok was just meant to tell him that it’s cool to drop the sir thing because he’s working with him not for him

poor kook was so nervous that he called his idol a hoe :(((

“aH, calm down!! it’s okay!! lol you seem cool anyway!!! you can just call me hobi-...”

that sounds SO precious omg

jungkook was about to bow again for the nth time but then hobi over here added something to his sentence

“... -hyung”

bROTHER??

now listen

hobi doesn’t have a brother in his family and gOd something about this younger guy in front of him,,,

he’s read jungkook’s forms and he’s younger than him and he’s iNTIMIDATINGLY large but he just looks so innocent y’know

it reminds him of nemo in a big vast ocean but maybe that’s just because he watched finding nemo last night and was emotional

but look!!! jungkook!!!! he wants to protecc this guy from the world and he looks so eager too!!!!

if you squint hard enough u could see jungkook’s fists in his sides clenching from being so happy

anyway

“hey, hey. c’mon, don’t cry now you’re gonna get uGly!!!!”

okay that did not help

jungkook’s rubbing circles on your back as you try to recollect what happened awhile ago at work and how yoongi was an absolute asshole

he’s tough on you and you don’t know why!!!

on top of that, your crew chief jimin is aLSO tough on you and you don’t know why either and it’s just!!!! why does everyone hate me!!!!! when i am just!!!!! bREATHING!!!!!

“want me to put in a good word for you for hobi-hyung? he could pull some strings then work for him instead... with me..... the people are a LOT nicer too...”

hobi knows about jungkook’s friendshio with you and he wasn’t really bothered to how his pit crew member is best friends with a pit crew member for his main rival :D not really :D

in fact he was even endeared!!! asked a lot of questions too because jungkook hOW do you contain yourself?? you’re so competitive and you’re not even the oNE who’s racing between us two???

“oh that’s easy hyung!!! y/n and i just kinda trashtalk each other for every game, then on free days we’re all cool!! :D”

“is that.... is that healthy..,.,.”

hobi wants to take you under his wing if that was possible

your contract and perhaps min yoongi are the only variables stopping you

he’s never said this to anyone but he dID make a semi-empty joke to yoongi once that y/n will also be working for him next season before he could even blink

and yoongi normally looks stoic but hobi swears that he must’ve flipped a switch aha :D

he looked sO infuriated and angry at the mention of your name and “working for me” that he actually thought yoongi would lunge at him

“it’s okay i guess :(( don’t wanna give up just yet :((“

“mHmmm okay whatever you say, sport :))”

jungkook praises you a lot for your dedication because if that was him?? he would’ve bitch-slapped yoongi in a second and quit right then and there!!

he cares for you!!! a lot!!! no one could ever take up your spot as his emotional support shoulder

he’s perfectly content with his job that he’s in!!!

hobi teaches him about things he’s never known before

practical life lessons too!!!

jungkook’s now equipped with the knowledge of how to make bread taste like french toast wITHOUT even making it like french toast

he now knows how to drift!!! like aCTUALLY drift!!! :D

hobi even taught him some tips about making the best use out of your car’s gas and how to nOT cower when it’s blinking that you’re about to run out

aHA jungkook’s still a little bit panicked whenever he sees the light blinking but then he’d remember hobi in his mind looking at him dead-straight

“you’re one of the buffest guys i’ve ever known, and you’re rattled at a tiny light blinking at you?”

you could still go for 50 km tOps with a blinking gas notice on!!! you’re nOT gonna believe jung hoseok the racer??

sigh

jungkook may be content with his job rn

but of course he’s still looking out for you :D

you’re much happier and giggly these days,,, yoongi and his character development being the causes for it

but every now and then aha :D

jungkook likes to relish over the fact that yeah yoongi may be over him in terms of seniority :) but that’s hIS best friend that he’s dating :)

he may just want to spook the guy sometimes

yoongi’s minding his business as he brings over lunch to kim kradle again, chopping up your cheesy tonkatsu for u when he makes the mistake of lifting his eyes

jungkook’s casually munching on his own meal that yoongi’s aLSO bought for him :D giving the older guy a thumbs-up and it makes yoongi smile

right before when jungkook’s eyes flicker from him and to you and his thumb is nOW resting daintily on his neck as he wiggles his eyebrows

g-gulp

yoongi will take care of you for sURE

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presumenothing · 4 years ago

Text

FICTOBER 2020 – PROMPTS #01 TO #05 – WTNV/FMA AU – GEN, NO WARNINGS

📻 PREVIOUSLY ON: episode one – pilot

“NO, COME BACK, said the spider to the fly, but we all know how the rest of that story goes.

“Welcome to Resembool.”

“TODAY, THERE IS THIS: a story about someone.

“This information is less helpful than you might think. All stories are about someone, in the singular or plural or uncountable. It’s what makes them stories, instead of disparate collections of facts and events loosely coiled about some narrative anchor.”

“HERE, THEN, are the particular someones this story concerns itself with – a man who is not large, and a man who is not small.

“Of course, this is only one way of describing them, and not even the one most people might use. Truth is not often equivalent to relevance, but for the purposes of this story it is close enough anyway.

“The man who is not large sits at a desk with a phone. The scene is not much different to anyone else sitting at a desk with a phone, and indeed not much different from his usual behaviour at all, except that he is frowning.

“This is, in turn, because his calls are not getting through.”

“AT THIS MOMENT, the man who is not small arrives. There is very little in common in the way of physical appearance between these two men, save for the possibility that if you ignore everything else about the situation, you might quite understandably think that both of their faces are made for smiling.

“Neither one is smiling now. The man who is not small crouches a little when entering the room, as some people who are not small are wont to do. No luck, sir? he asks.

“No luck, the man who is not large agrees, but not in a way that is frustrated.

“Or rather – it is true that he is frustrated, but that is not the most relevant thing. He taps his fingers, looks to the ceiling, and thinks.”

“WE CUT BRIEFLY AWAY from this story to the community classifieds.

“Item: Curtis Butchers is looking to hire an additional staff. The job requires comfort around cleavers and other large knives, but not butchery experience since you will find yourself learning rapidly on the job, and anyway that’s the easy part. What’s the hard part? Wouldn’t you like to know. To apply, head down to the store and challenge one person to arm wrestling. Who you choose will be the first part of your interview. Good luck!

“Item: Ice-cream truck found in the parking lot of Dark Owl Records, vacant but in good condition. If this is yours, contact Rebecca Catalina, owner of Dark Owl Records. If this is not yours, but you are interested, maybe contact her anyway. She has some interesting ideas about a joint venture of sorts.”

“AND FINALLY – item: Base to Phoenix, town square, ten o’clock. That’s… literally all this last sheet of paper says. No clue what that’s about, but doubtless the recipient must have understood the message anyway.

“This has been the community classifieds.”

“AND NOW, WE RETURN TO the story at hand.

“…so I figured it was worth a try, the man who is not large is saying to the man who is not small. I have a theory that– never mind, we’ll know if it’s true or not based on how this pans out.

“The man who is not small does not say anything aloud in response to this statement. The contemplative silence is uncharacteristic of him, or at least how people usually perceive him, but then again everything they are doing now is uncharacteristic of how people usually perceive them.”

“PERCEPTION, AS IT HAPPENS, can often be neither relevant nor true.

“He’s going to kill me if this actually goes through, the man who is not large remarks, in a manner all too cavalier for such a comment. Ringing him up just to talk his ear off.

“That didn’t stop you before, the man who is not small observes.

“The man who is not large laughs. It really hasn’t, yeah. But who wouldn’t be happy to hear my dulcet tones? Or, more importantly… the news of my beloved wife and lovely daughter!”

“THE MAN WHO IS NOT SMALL studies the stack of photographs that have been thrust in his face. She really is growing up well, he says, and this impression at least is true if not particularly relevant.

“Although it is very relevant to the man who is not large, judging by the breadth of his grin. You’re a good man, Major. Ever consider having kids yourself?”

“LET’S PAUSE HERE AND TAKE A LOOK at traffic.

“There is a woman. We will call her Emma, and I won’t tell you if that is her real name – or more accurately I can’t, for reasons that will soon become clear.

“Emma came to this town just over two years ago, bringing only her daughter with her. Old Woman Pinako, smoking a pipe on her porch near the car lot, would see her arrival and think privately that it seemed more like a fleeing.

“Then she would extinguish her pipe and come forward to offer assistance anyway. They would not form any kind of instant trust, because Old Woman Pinako had been right in her guess, but both are practical women, in the way that you tended to get when you are adjacent to someone who practices alchemy.”

“BUT THAT WAS THE PAST. This is now.

“Now, Emma listens to the radio, hears about the newcomers to town, and worries. Her daughter is older, now, and I will tell you nothing about her either, besides that she has brown braids and blue eyes and a smile like the sun. Sometimes, she plays happily with the dog that welcomes her at Rockbell Automail, like Den reminds her of a family pet she was too young to remember.

“Sometimes, out the corner of Emma’s eye, her daughter bears a different form, like she is not sure what shape she should have when no one is looking. Sometimes it reminds her of the shadowed shapes she saw in the basement lab, the ones her husband only smiled about when she asked, scared and desperate and furious: you did this? Is this also what you’re planning to do to me, to N–

“And so Emma wonders if she got them away from her husband quickly enough, and worries if the newcomers are looking to bring her back. If they suspect what her husband, the alchemist, had been trying to do.”

“THE GENERAL ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS is that she did what she had to, and will continue to do so. The specific answers are yes, probably no, and no.

“The real answer is that none of these answers will be enough to reassure her, but at least they might help.

“This has been traffic. And now, the weather.”

“SO THAT’S THE WEATHER FORECAST FOR this coming week, but perhaps there was something you were more keen to hear about. A phone call, perhaps.

“Alas, listeners, I’m afraid I don’t much news for you on that front. You see, there are municipal regulations requiring enclosed booths around payphones to prevent undue weather damage to the equipment. As such, when the phone in the town square rang at ten, and a man stopped to answer it, there was a door he could pull closed behind him.

“However, the regulations say nothing about making the booth proof against eavesdropping, only rain, and so some parts of his words still drifted out anyway, stolen snatches of half a conversation: why did we let you choose the codenames? and yes, Eagle is fine, just itching to shoot something and I’ll report in as soon as I have something to–

“THIS LAST PART is said with forehead pressed against glass, eyes scanning the darkened streets outside, and presumably this is related to the way he stops suddenly, mid-sentence. A hurried murmur, too low to even guess at, and then he is hanging up and stepping out, pushing the door open.

“Who’s there? the man asks, measured in the way of someone who expects to be answered, and the words do not hang suspended in the night for long before a figure steps out of the shadows, hood drawn down around his shoulders.”

“THE MAN’S STANCE changes completely: he stiffens, and his tone is no longer measured when he says Marcoh? What are you doing here?

“It’s Mauro, the Sheriff replies, pulling his customary hood back up, and I could ask you the same thing, Lieutenant Colonel.

“It’s Colonel, actually, the man corrects, but not in a way that is actually meant to be a correction. I told everyone when we first arrived, it’s just for surveillance.

“The Sheriff says nothing, but the silence is loud enough anyway: that answer was unacceptable, try again.

“They’re planning something, and this town is standing in their way. Either it submits, or– you know what they’ll do. I can’t let that happen again, he finishes with an urgency that makes the words sound true, and relevant, and completely opaque to anyone else.”

“BUT THAT IS ONLY TO BE EXPECTED. This has been a story about someone, after all, none of which are us, and just because something is true and relevant to you does not guarantee that you will understand it at all.

“Stay tuned next for the crackling jingle of a blue truck parked by a records store, and the worried weight of a mother tucking her daughter in while wondering what will come tomorrow.

“Good night, Resembool. Good night.”

📻 TODAY’S PROVERB:

There are many things in this world worth an arm and a leg. If it’s not your own, at least.

(AO3)

happy inaugural fma day to me, and yes i’m celebrating it by putting out 100% self-indulgent content that is only borderline recognisable as fma because i can!! this also serves as a somewhat nonstandard fill to the first five fictober prompts, one for each section of the episode. i had to contort pretzels around myself putting some of them in, but it was a fun challenge anyway

this episode’s weather (which is arbitrarily decided by which 80s song is currently stuck in my head) was “eye in the sky” by the alan parsons project

characters introduced this episode, for those keeping score at home: maes as the man who is not large (who codenamed roy and riza as phoenix and eagle respectively for this op), alex as the man who is not small, curtis butchers as big rico’s, rebecca catalina as michelle nguyen, ex-mrs tucker pseudonym emma and nina as alive and well because to hell with shou tucker, and last but not least – marcoh as the sheriff of night vale, just because

#fictober20 #welcome to resembool #fma day #fma #fmab #wtnv #fanfiction #mine #the story about you episodes have always been fascinating to me #so here's a variation on that #me frantically texting anthrop: HEY I FIGURED OUT THE PLOT #that was a lie. there is no plot #only chaos

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hanscom · 5 years ago

Note

reddie enemies to lovers

(I keep trying to convince myself to finish this, but it hasn’t happened yet and it’s been over a year since I started it. So here, have some hockey enemies to friends nonsense.

Fair warning: this is the same game as we all know and love, but the ins and outs of professional hockey detailed here are made up. I don’t know the specifics about what goes on off the ice, okay? Correct me if you must, but I highly encourage you to just embrace the fact that I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.

Also, I love you all, still and forever. Thanks for following me even after all this time.)

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak Rating: T Word count: 2,948

It’s cold in the arena.

It’s worse, down on the ice. The air is sharp and stinging on his face, in his lungs. His skates are steady under his feet. The lights are blazing overhead. He can’t smell much except the sweaty inside of his helmet, but he imagines it smells like popcorn and hoppy beer. It smells like game day. It smells like home.

Richie doesn’t think there could be anything better than this.

He’s skating backwards around the rink, gliding fast across the freshly buffed ice, content in the knowledge that no one is going to run into him. His team has gotten pretty good at working around him. They’re starting to become a pretty effortless unit, for the most part. It’s something Richie is pretty fucking proud of.

He whooshes past Ben and around one of the rookies, shouting joyful nonsense that echoes off the ice. They yell back at him, but he can’t make out the words over the sound of his skates and the blood rushing in his ears.

And then Stan skates out from the tunnel and into his way. Richie twists fast to the side, digging down, slowing to a quick stop. Ice sprays up under his blades. Stan, unimpressed as always, doesn’t move. “Are you done showing off?” he asks, his mouthguard hanging from his helmet. The only time he ever takes it out on the ice is to give Richie a hard time.

“What’s that?” Richie says. “I can’t hear you from down there.”

Stan is the smallest guy on the team. He’s almost a solid foot shorter than Richie, and he’s constantly sore as fuck about it. Richie doesn’t get it. If Stan were any bigger, any less quick on his feet, he wouldn’t be half the player he is. Stan’s a winger. His entire hockey career revolves around being fast. And, anyway, Richie’s kind of big for a centerman, but you don’t hear him bitching about it.

They’re close to the goal. Mike is standing there in the crease, suited up, his hulking equipment making him look massive. “Are we really doing this again?” he calls, but he’s laughing about it.

Richie digs his skates in, gliding an easy circle around the goal. “We sure are,” he says, grinning. “You know Stan plays a better game when he’s pissed off.”

“I could play a better game than you in a coma,” Stan shouts. His face is red, some combination of cold air and actual anger. Stan’s normally a pretty level-headed guy, but Richie gets under his skin, shakes him up, makes him mad. His game has gotten a thousand times more aggressive since they met. Bill sometimes jokes about putting him on defense, but he never will. Stan as Richie’s left wing is pretty much the only reason the Portland Pioneers ever score.

It’s not that their right wing is bad, exactly. He’s just… not good. Richie can say that. He’s not the captain, like Bill. He’s not even an alternate, like Stan and Ben. He doesn’t have to be diplomatic. He doesn’t have to play nice. Hockey’s not a nice sport. Hockey’s about being fast and smart and violent. Right winger Patrick Hockstetter might be mean as hell, but he’s also slow as fuck and dumb as a box of rocks. Richie can work with a lot of things, but he can’t fix stupid.

But Richie’s trying not to think about it. He doesn’t need to go into the game expecting Patrick to fuck it up for them (again). It’s bad luck. And Albany’s a good team. Richie has to focus if he’s going to pull this one out.

—

The Pioneers lose in overtime, which is devastating. Losing always sucks, but it’s even worse, watching Albany celebrate on their ice.

Afterward, the locker room is quiet for a long time, aside from the five minutes Coach spends yelling at them for their admittedly awful performance. When he retreats back to his office, the team slowly strips out of their equipment, made sluggish by defeat. They’re all tired. Richie is already starting to ache, his body finally registering all the time he spent up against the boards. Bill and Ben are in even worse shape. Both of them already have bruises blooming across their ribs, across their backs. Albany played rough. The Pioneers haven’t had to fight that dirty in a long time. It makes the loss feel even worse, somehow.

Richie has just finished dragging on his street clothes when Bill finally speaks up. He has changed into the full three-piece suit he wears to impress the media circus waiting outside for him, and his hair is still damp from the shower. He looks sort of ridiculous, standing there in full monkey costume in front of the team, who are all in various states of undress. But he’s still the captain, so when Bill tells them to listen up, they do.

“You guys played really hard tonight,” he says. He’s trying to sound light-hearted, uplifting, but Richie has known him for a long time now. He’s just as crushed by the loss as everyone else — probably more so. There’s a small waver in his voice that says it all. “I know this isn’t the outcome we wanted, but that doesn’t change how well you all played.”

Richie looks down. It’s sort of worse, knowing they did well but lost anyway. They gave it their all, but it wasn’t good enough. It fucking sucks. Richie sort of wants to punch something. He sort of wants to sleep for a few days straight.

He really, really, really wants a right winger who can shoot a decent shot.

It’s not a very charitable thought. Patrick has played worse games than this one. But Richie’s too tired to play nice, and he can’t stop replaying all the shots they missed, all the times he was open and so was the goal but the puck was nowhere to be found and neither was Patrick.

Richie thinks, without meaning to, about Albany’s right winger. Thinks about the way he had sped across the ice, faster than Richie, faster even than Stan. He’d played a good game. A damn good game. Richie sort of really hates him for it, which isn’t fair. It’s not that guy’s fault Richie doesn’t have a solid line. But he is most of the reason Albany scored and scored and scored again, so Richie reserves the right to hate him, just a little.

Stan and Mike ask him out for a drink, but he declines. He wouldn’t be good company, and besides, he’s beat. So he bids them goodbye and leaves out the back, ball cap pulled low over his eyes to hopefully deter anyone from recognizing him. It works. He gets home without incident, makes himself a late dinner, and flips on the TV to watch a few highlights, because he’s an obsessive masochist. Pittsburgh beats Chicago, then Nashville loses to Dallas, and then he’s watching himself skate furiously down the length of the Pioneers’ rink. He groans, but doesn’t fumble for the remote. Helplessly, hopelessly, he watches Patrick lag behind. He watches Albany’s defense wrestle the puck away without much of a fight. He watches that tiny fucking demon of a right winger swoop in, taking control of the puck with an ease Richie can’t help but admire. God, the guy’s good.

The announcers call him Eddie Kaspbrak. The name sounds familiar, in the way that all good players sound familiar. Richie can only watch so many highlights in a night without picking up on a few things, and this is clearly not the first beautiful pass Kaspbrak has ever made. Richie makes a face and finally shuts the television off. He doesn’t need to relive Kaspbrak’s seamless pass to center, that perfect shot down the crease, the way Mike’s knee guards slapped to the ice a split-second too late. It was hard enough to watch in real time.

One day, he’s going to have a right wing like Kaspbrak, who can keep up and knows how to bank a shot. But today isn’t that day, so he gives up and goes to bed, upset and pissed off and stoking his quiet, irrational grudge against Eddie Kaspbrak.

—

Trade negotiations roll around. Richie tries not to worry about it, but he does. Everyone does.

In the end, it’s Patrick. Which isn’t surprising, exactly, but feels so much like everything Richie has ever wanted that it scares him. He finds himself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In late February, two weeks before the trade deadline, it does. Bill makes the announcement after a rough, sweaty afternoon practice. Richie is tired as fuck, still breathing heavy, but all the air jams up in his throat when Bill breaks the news.

The Portland Pioneers have acquired Eddie Kaspbrak.

—

Kaspbrak, in person and without all his gear, is even smaller than he looks on the ice.

He’s younger-looking than Richie expects. They’re the same age, but Richie has taken a few good hits over the years that have knocked his face a little out of whack. He has a crooked nose, twisted teeth. The entire left side of his jaw had to be painstakingly rebuilt three years ago when he took a puck to the face, which left his smile sort of lopsided.

Eddie doesn’t look like he’s ever taken a hit. He has a smooth, even face. Nice teeth. He’s good-looking, is all Richie’s saying. Richie didn’t expect it. He’s not sure why it catches him off-guard.

They meet for the first time off the ice the day the Pioneers are scheduled to play Carolina. Morning skate is optional, but Richie drags himself in anyway because Bill expects him to, and Richie’s a sucker who doesn’t want to disappoint his captain, even after all this time. It’s not even that early when he stumbles in but he feels bleary and sluggish, pulling on his gear without participating much in the locker talk. Stan tries to rile him up a few times, but gives up fast when Richie refuses to take the bait. Mike nudges him when he walks past. “Rough night?” he asks, grinning like he knows the answer. Richie spent his night with a microwaved pizza and the highlights reel, but that’s nobody’s damn business, so he shrugs.

And then Bill comes out of Coach’s office. The team doesn’t exactly snap to attention whenever he’s around, but the chatter dies down to a dull murmur. Especially when someone follows him out.

Kaspbrak is wearing street clothes — sneakers, jeans, a fucking polo shirt. Richie wonders if that’s the sort of thing he always wears or if he dressed up for them. He looks more comfortable than he probably should, standing in front of a group of strangers who, up until this point, have only known him as an opponent. He’s smiling. He is just — really good-looking. Richie is sort of hung up on it.

“This,” Bill announces, “is Eddie. He’s going to practice with us this morning.”

The season hasn’t even officially ended. Patrick got pulled from the roster when the trade was announced, but he’s still around. His locker’s not even empty. Richie doesn’t like the guy or anything, but that has to be a tough pill to swallow. Richie can’t even imagine what being replaced like that would feel like.

On the other hand, he really, really wants to get out on the ice with Kaspbrak. He wants to see what the guy can do, up close and personal.

It’s a tough thing, being both impressed and annoyed by the sight of someone. It’s made worse by the way Bill stares him down until he manages to force a smile in Eddie’s direction. Kaspbrak grins back at him, easy. His teeth are stupidly perfect. None of them are chipped or anything. Richie can’t remember the last time he met a hockey player with a perfect face. Something about it freaks him out.

Bill claps Eddie on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team,” he says. Most of the guys echo the sentiment. Richie mumbles something that sounds close enough and finishes lacing up his skates.

He doesn’t have to play nice with Kaspbrak. He just has to play well with Kaspbrak. There’s a big difference, and Richie is clinging stubbornly to it.

—

The thing is, Kaspbrak is really fucking good.

Richie knew. Of course he knew. He hardly ever lets the losses get to him, because God knows there have been too many to remember them all over the years, but he’s been hung up on the Albany game for months now. He’s watched the playback more than once, and has most of Albany’s season saved to his DVR.

But it’s different in person. Kaspbrak is so fast. So steady on his feet. Richie hasn’t been impressed by something as simple as skating since he was a kid, but the way Kaspbrak does it shakes him up. The guy skates like a dream. Richie is so jealous, and so impressed, and so fucking confused. He’s spent the better part of the season hating this guy, and now he’s here, gliding around Richie in wide circles, lapping Bill and Ben and even Stan, looking like maybe he’s not even making much of an effort.

Morning skate is easy, most of the time. Everyone wants to be at their best for that night’s game, and half the team didn’t even show. But Eddie throws the dynamic off, makes them all a little hot and hungry for some actual play, and before Richie knows it, Mike and his rookie are guarding opposing nets and Richie’s facing off with Bill, staring at him through the grate of his helmet, his mouthguard clenched between his teeth. It’s not a real scrimmage. They don’t have enough players to run a real game. But Richie doesn’t care, because Stan volunteered as Bill’s winger, which left Kaspbrak all for Richie. Richie can feel him, on his right, just outside the face-off circle. Richie has this weird, sudden urge to look back at him, but then the puck is on the ground and there’s no time.

Bill is a vicious center. He’s not as fast as Richie, but he’s stronger. There’s a reason he plays defense. His body is one solid line of muscle, and he’s not afraid of using it. He shoulder-checks Richie, almost knocks him off balance with the force of it, but Richie bares his teeth and refuses to give up ground. Bill is probably a better player than Richie is in the long run, but Richie is the best center the team has ever had. He wrestles the puck out of Bill’s reach and bears down on the ice, shooting across the rink. Eddie is ahead of him. Richie hasn’t had a winger faster than him in so long he almost forgets to make the pass.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He moves like a blur, so fast it’s hard to keep track of his stick against the puck, driving it effortlessly forward. Mike is braced in the crease, his big body held wide, but he’s just not quick enough. Eddie comes at him from the side, bent down, stick jumping from one side of the puck to the other. And then it’s over. One second, he’s barreling down the rink, and the next, the puck is in the net — a perfect backhand shot.

It’s just practice. There’s no cheering, no booming announcement, no music. But Richie feels the same way he always does, his pulse loud in his ears, his heart tight in his chest.

“Kaspbrak!” he roars. “You son of a bitch!”

Eddie has the kind of smile that could melt the ice. He looks so pleased, so proud. Richie skates to him and throws an arm around his shoulder, smacking his helmet.

“We went easy on you!” Stan shouts, because he’s a sore loser.

“You kidding?” Richie yells back. “You couldn’t have caught him if you tried!”

Eddie’s shoulders shake. Richie leans into him, grinning, thrilled beyond measure. They drift a little on the ice, aimless, anchored together.

“It won’t happen again,” Bill says. He’s a competitive motherfucker, which makes him a great player and an even better captain. It won’t be easy, getting the puck away from him again.

Eddie grins up at Richie like maybe he’s up for the challenge.

—

Eddie scores two more times. He insists that they don’t call it a hat trick, considering it’s just practice and he’s scared of jinxing it. Richie doesn’t care what they call it. All he knows is Eddie scored three fucking times, and he assisted all of them. He doesn’t even mind that he wasn’t the one to make the shots. It’s better, almost, watching Eddie do it.

Bill lets morning skate go longer than normal, probably hoping to pull out a single goal, but after awhile he finally calls them off the ice. Richie is dripping with sweat when he peels himself out of his equipment. He didn’t realize how hard he’d been working. It hadn’t felt like much, being out there on the ice, falling into Eddie’s rhythm, into his gravity.

Eddie hangs back while everyone files out, looking around like maybe he’s still taking everything in. His hair is wet from the shower and his face is flushed. Richie nudges him on his way out. “Sure you can’t play with us tonight?” he asks. It’s not possible, but it makes Eddie beam.

“Won’t be long,” Eddie assures him.

Richie doesn’t say so, but he can’t fucking wait.

#reddie #it fic #sometimes i write things

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muddyhippy · 4 years ago

Text

Night Terrors, Chapter 7: Enlightening Lists

Gorgeous Artwork of Ashes and Lily done by @smolghostings

Enlightening Lists

Summary: Lily has a horrible nightmare involving a member of the crew and she wouldn't be a good and caring space pirate cook if she didn't go to check on her friend...

Find it on AO3: here

It was just a dream. Just a dream. It was a bad dream and nothing else and she should just go back to sleep and it was fine. She was a big girl.

She closed her eyes.

And saw Ashes coughing up smoke and fire.

No. She had to go and make sure. She had to know they were alright. Ashes was so calm and unshakable and organised they didn’t get scared of anything but yesterday something had happened and they’d coughed. Ashes, just for a moment, had looked very scared. Then they’d shaken it off and said they were fine and were fine for the rest of the day Lily had watched and made sure and they hadn’t coughed again

so of course they were fine and it was just a silly nightmare and she was a big girl now and she knew it was a nightmare and—

Lily was already walking towards storage.

She left Gemini guarding her bed, this was a solo mission.

Ashes was exactly where Lily hoped they would be, checking through their inventories, making lists of things that were low and needing stocking up on. Lily didn’t want to interrupt them. Ashes was so sensible and organised and made sure they all had what they needed. She didn’t want to interrupt. Ashes was doing important things and she shouldn’t interrupt. They looked fine. She should go back to bed. Ashes was fine and not coughing and—

“Why y’out of bed Scrap?”

Ashes hadn’t looked up from their list.

Lily froze.

How did they know?! She been so quiet approaching the store room too. Ashes really was that om-om-omni- really good at knowing where people were.

Lily swallowed audibly. She had a very healthy respect for Ashes, the quartermaster had an air of coiled and calculated danger about them that Lily was very aware of. Oh she knew she was 100% safe with Ashes and loved them fiercely but she respected them and their boundaries to the letter, it was only fair when they’d been so clear about them. Ashes was always kind and patient with her, even if they weren’t quite sure what to say or do with her sometimes. When they smiled at Lily for reporting things she’d used that day Lily felt so very grown up and sensible. She loved earning that smile from Ashes. It was a similar smile when they took the time to teach her card tricks, tricks she could use in games Ashes taught her to play against Jonny. They both looked so proud when Lily managed to make a trick work to score card game points, it made her feel all clever and glowy inside.

Now though? Now she felt small and silly and in the way. Ashes was using the quiet night to get things done and she was interrupting and getting in the way.

She started to try and shrink into the shadows.

Ashes sighed, “Don’t try to hide, I ain’t mad. Just want to know why you’re out of bed.”

Lily sniffed, remembering why exactly she was out of bed.

Ashes turned fully around at the sound, suddenly deeply worried they were about to have to deal with a sobbing Lily on their own without a convenient Jonny to pass her off to. Tim had warned them that she might turn up at some point but they’d never thought Lily would actually turn up seeking them out. It had been four months and nothing. They’d thought they were in the clear. Jonny might be an absolute pain in the arse when he wasn’t sorting out a show, performing or setting up some sort of heist or other exciting crime spree (read- most of the damn time) but he’d proved more than worth his weight in gold (and Ashes had calculated that down to both the ounce and the gram) in how he dealt with Lily, which was whenever soggy emotions happened they could pass her on to him.

Ashes braced themselves.

“I, I,” her lip wobbled.

Oh no. Fuck. Ashes had no fucking clue what to do. The others made it look so goddamn easy. They didn’t really go in for physical affection. They had their reasons and they didn’t share but this was different, Lily wasn’t likely to try and knife them in the kidneys. Kid couldn’t even reach that far if she tried. Plus, Lily was obviously not carrying a weapon. She wasn’t even carrying the fluffy rock thing Jonny had made for her and it was hard to assume the worst of a tiny child who looked like one good sneeze would knock her over right now. Especially when she was wearing her dragon hoard pyjama set that Ashes had quietly stolen for her on the last planet because it had an objectively cute dragon curled up asleep on a vast pile of multi-coloured glittery gems. Partly because Lily liked gems of all kinds, partly because a lot of the gems had sleepy faces too and it was adorable though they’d never admit it also partly because the kid had actually grown a little bit and that was a damn good reason celebrate but mostly because it always got a shitload of glitter on Jonny whenever she wore it.

Right now though Lily looked like she was about to disintegrate and there was only sure-fire way to deal with that before it got really bad.

And Ashes liked the kid enough to offer.

They sighed internally, already hearing Jonny cackling in the back of their head.

Payback really was a bitch.

“Do, do you want a hug?” They offered nervously, worried more for getting it wrong this time rather than being surprised by Lily. Kid had actually been really considerate and thoughtful as soon as they’d explained not liking being touched unannounced.

Lily threw all caution to the wind, Ashes had offered so that must be alright and nodded her head so hard it was a wonder it didn’t fall off.

Well, they couldn’t back out now. They just hoped they were half as good as Jonny, kid was pretty tolerant after all. “Alright, come here Scrap.”

Lily fought every instinct she had to just throw herself at Ashes like she did with some of the others. Instead she walked carefully towards the Quartermaster and slowly raised her arms.

Ashes appreciated the restraint the kid was showing. They gently scooped her up and settled Lily against their chest. ‘Scrap’ was an appropriate name, there had been almost nothing to Lily when she joined them, she had just about cleared three foot in height and couldn’t have weighed much more than two stone. In other words kid was dramatically underweight and under-height which was partly the reason Ashes had been working with Raphaella, Ivy, Marius and Brian specifically to make sure that they had the most nutritional food stuffs in stock to ensure she started gaining healthy weight. Which thankfully she was now doing, it had taken months but kid was now on the right track. They might be immoral, immortal, murdering, musical space pirates but they were not neglectful goddammit. If Ashes had been able to have met the ones in charge of Lily’s ship supplies and management they would have shot them on sight. Or just set them on fire. Kid was underweight, long before the raid. Even they’d not been that bad in the orphan house. Then again, Ashes had learned to steal pretty much as soon as they gained a semblance of control over their infant limbs, they got good at stealing from markets, timing when eateries discarded their leftovers and fighting the others for a meal. It had kept them alive after but all of these weren’t options that had been available to Lily.

It was why Ashes had gently started to teach the kid sleight of hand, Lily needed some hustling skills, it’d set her up for life and it was the least Ashes could do to ensure the kid had a solid chance.

Jonny was very much involved in ‘let’s get meat on Lily’s twig bones’ plan, just because whilst he didn’t go into the science of it all he knew how kids were supposed to look and Lily was little bag of sticks. His New Texas roots had made a rare appearance, every so often he’d forget himself and comment how Lily wouldn’t be able to lead a hoglet far let alone handle the herd for long. He was unsurprisingly also very much on board with the ‘murder all the idiots who thought this pioneer plan was a good one without half a clue of how to do it well’ wishful thinking.

Ah well, as it was, having Lily in their arms and realising they would probably hold her all day one-armed and not really notice just steeled their determination on continuing to get the best stuff assembled. They had plenty of gold to hand anyways, might as well use it for a good cause.

“Wanna tell me what the matter is? You have a bad dream?” prompted Ashes carefully.

“Yes.”

Excellent, that, that was good start. Ashes, like the rest of the crew was well aware of Lily’s regular night terrors, Jonny had spent the majority of the last four months with a small child attached to him during the early ams, the hours collective known to cover the range from ‘Fuck Off’ to ‘Absolutely Not’ O’Clock. It was always good to know exactly what they were dealing with. If it was bad bad then they were not above marching right through Aurora to find the first mate who had apparently fucked off again during Nightmare Duty. Bastard.

“Okay.” They took a breath, bracing themself, “Wanna tell me what about?”

“You.”

Ashes short-circuited, “What?”

Lily took a deep breath, “I saw you cough yesterday and you looked scared and you’re never scared, you’re big and brave and organise everything really well and you’re really clever with cards, even cleverer than Jonny and then you were fine but I dreamt you were coughing up smoke and flames, like one of your lighters had gone wrong and I just had to come and check make sure you really were okay. I’m glad you are!” Her eyes began to widen when she realised she’d been invading Ashes’ space when they were just trying to get on with their quartermaster job, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you!”

Huh. That. That was a lot. Ashes was pretty sure she managed that whole spiel on one breath too.

Lily was still caught up with worry over Ashes though.

“Are you really alright?”

The Quartermaster was still reeling, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine Lily, just give me a minute. That was a lot you told me very fast.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Lily bit her lip, looking trying to contain all the rest of the questions that were bubbling up inside her in the face of Ashes looking stunned.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” The quartermaster tried to soothe.

It was not fine. How the hell had she picked up on their minor coughing fit? How the hell had she picked up that it had scared the shit out of them, just for a minute. It happened every time they coughed. They never got used to it. One cough and they were back in Mickey’s trap and they were twenty three, terrified and dying all over again. It was very un-fucking-fair that Lily picked up on that single moment and even more unfair that the kid was worried for them. Kid was thirty five pounds soaking wet and here she was all worked up about them when she should be entirely concerned about continuing to get more meat on her bones and a growing spell or seven.

Why did they have to end up with such a nice goddamn kid?!

“Ashes?” prompted Lily nervously.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not saying anything and your eyes are really far away.”

Ashes forced themself to focus back on the child in their arms, “Sorry Scrap, just thinking.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Fuck, they’d not told her about their mechanism. Shit, actually, thinking about it, Lily didn’t know about any of the crews’ mechanisms. They’d decided as a group that they’d tell her when she was a bit older, when she asked again why they ‘came back’ since right now kid just accepted them as they were, that Tim’s eyes changed colour depending on what he was doing and using them for, that Jonny ticked, that Nastya was always cold, that Brian was entirely fucking metal or that the Toy Soldier was, well, there. Kid didn’t even question why Marius had a metal hand or why Raphaella had wings. She just accepted them wholeheartedly. She probably thought Ivy was just naturally super smart but then again, fair, she did come from a library world, Ivy was probably clever as all fuck regardless of her mechanism.

Fuck. What the hell were they supposed to say?! Ashes took a steadying, thankfully easy breath, well, if they fucked it up Jonny could fix it. Even if that was the weirdest sentence that had ever crossed their mind.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I get a cough, I had a spell a long time ago when I coughed and coughed and couldn’t stop for a long time.”

“That sounds scary.”

“It was.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the goddamned century. Ashes had been fucking terrified. They knew what it was like to have the insides of their lungs scoured and try and try to pull more air in but nothing comes and you’re drowning in mid-air with nothing but acrid air burning the life from you, all the tendons in your neck twisting and tightening, constricting everything, filling your nose with the stench of your own flesh and hair incinerating.

“But you got better?”

“Yeah. I got help.” And the 2nd place award to understatement of the century goes to…

They realised when Lily continued to watch them expectantly they had to carry on and explain further, “But sometimes, something will just catch and I’ll cough and I’m reminded of that time, just for a second and it scares me but then I’m fine. So I swear Lily, I’m fine now.”

Lily stared at Ashes for a solid thirty seconds looking for any sign of insincerity to be addressed and comforted.

Ashes had no idea they could be held in place by such young eyes, Jonny was right the bastard, she did have a look that had her eyes taking up half her face. Last time Ashes saw a pair of eyes that colour they belonged to a broken war veteran, facilitator of localised Armageddon who’d never slept a peaceful night in twenty years.

Ashes thought they’d felt moved then, not moved enough to outright help them but enough to tell them what they really needed to know. It wasn’t Ashes fault they didn’t really listen to them, they got where they needed to be in the end, they got to be reunited finally Ashes was glad of it if they were honest with themself. Ulysses had got their peaceful ending at last.

Before Ashes burned the city to a crisp.

Whole rotten thing deserved their flames, it was a cancer and didn’t deserve to breathe after they’d had their fun. It had been entertaining to murder the Olympians first though, make sure they knew their world was ending by Ashes’ hand. The one they never respected, not truly, thinking the Acheron was beneath their care, thinking they were so untouchable, so above everything. Ashes knew that feeling, knew what it was like. Knew that sense of power. But they were all one missed chemical away from death. Not like them. Not like their crew.

The Olympians made themselves a house of cards.

And cards burned delightfully.

And despite all of that it turned out Ulysses had nothing on Lily in the stare department apparently.

Ashes realised with a thrill of terror that they were unlikely to be able to bare face lie to her when she looked like that. There was something about being faced with genuine concern from an innocent face that cared that stripped all of their natural defences.

They were completely fucked.

Ashes held their breath and stare that bit longer.

Whatever was on their face was passed muster, Lily settled down again.

“Good, I’m glad. I was worried about you.”

That. That made Ashes pause. They knew that academically, Lily was a caring kid, she cared about them all, she got worried over hurting TS by hugging it too hard sometimes for fucks sake. But still, having someone say that? Out loud? And mean it? 100%? Kid was too much for words sometimes.

“Thanks Lily, I appreciate it.”

“Can, can I hug you tighter please? Just for a minute?”

Ashes swallowed. Kid was literally in their arms and she was still asking to increase contact rather than just assume and do it. She was fully prepared to be told no too. She was too good for any of them. Ashes wouldn’t have said no anyway at this point but given the circumstances, having a hug right now actually sounded pretty good.

“Yeah Lily, yeah you can.”

Lily beamed and shuffled upwards to wrap her arms around Ashes neck, leaning in closer to cuddle in and breathe in Ashes smoky scent, it was sharp and bitter with an underlying scent of something chemically, not Raphaella’s science chemicals, and it wasn’t quite Jonny’s whiskey, it was something else, something louder, something that could whisper but it really loved to roar when it could. It wasn’t like Jonny’s spicesmokewhiskey but it was still nice.

Ashes took some comfort from the weight in their arms, that Lily was there because she was worried about them. That she had had a nightmare about them, not that Ashes was frightening or had done something to scare them but that Lily was scared for them. That she cared enough to be worried about them, to have seen them coughing and it was worrying enough to spark an actual nightmare because she cared about them.

That was a lot.

Ashes knew tangentially than Lily cared for them all, they knew that Lily was a kid that loved easily. She loved Jonny for fuck’s sake. Any fucker could tell that. But Ashes hadn’t considered in real terms that that love and care and affection extended to the rest of them. It clearly did. They just hadn’t really equated it to themselves, they didn’t make much effort to really engage with Lily, they didn’t give her the physical affection that the kid obviously needed so they just assumed Lily didn’t quite have the same esteem for them as the others that spent time with her.

They only really spent time with her to make sure she had some important skills they didn’t entirely trust the others to impart, Jonny would teach her cheat at cards but they were far better at cheating. They were born to it after all.

So that was their relationship, strictly business to their mind.

Apparently not.

Lily was just as affectionate and invested in Ashes as the rest of the crew.

Huh. It was new information that Ashes felt they should have probably known for a long time.

It wasn’t as cloying as they expected it to be having Lily cuddling up to them. After Mickey they were extremely guarded, Mickey had betrayed them after twelve years of loyal service and being included in the wild family that was the Lucky Sevens. He’d turned on a dime, cut them loose as soon as it was convenient. Carmilla had been choice with the truth of what Mechanisation entailed and Ashes had been too desperate, too hurt, too scared and too full of burning need for revenge to really absorb the consequences until it was far too late.

Trust was dangerous, trust hurt and it sure as fuck got you killed or worse.

And yet.

Here was this little girl who’d seen and lived terrible things beyond what any child should see.

And she trusted them all.

A bunch of murderous space pirates. Maybe she didn’t have much of a choice in that since there wasn’t another option but she could have run. She could have taken herself off into the vents the second Jonny put her down or when she got new clean clothes and lurked and lived with the Octokittens, only coming up to steal food. But she didn’t. She stayed and trusted and loved.

Ashes began to see their crew in a different light. Shifting from people they lived with and made music with that they tolerated and had a few good times with to come into better focus as what they really were, a family. They were one hell of a dysfunctional family but a family they were.

They had been for a very long time.

They hugged Lily back to cover their hard swallow to get themselves under control.

“So you want to go back to bed?” That seemed liked a safe and responsible thing to ask.

Lily shook her head against Ashes’ neck. “No.”

Fuck, what were they supposed to do with her now? Ashes paused, considering. Then an idea hit, Lily liked to help after all.

“Alright, wanna make yourself useful instead?”

“Yes please.”

“Right, well I’m doing an inventory of this store.”

“Counting all the things?”

“Yeah counting all the things in this room.”

“I’m good at counting!”

“Glad to hear it.” Actually, Lily kept the list in the food store diligently up to date. It was weirdly heart-warming to have someone actually do something for them just because it would make their life easier. Seeing Lily’s careful handwriting punctuated with smiley faces and little flowers never failed to quirk a smile out of them.

Ashes carefully put Lily down.

They settled into an easy rhythm, Ashes consulting their list, calling out the item and Lily finding out it, counting aloud for Ashes to record. The quartermaster had to help the culinary officer to sound out some of the more complicated names but they got mostly through Ashes’ list before Lily began to tire.

She pushed on for another twenty minutes before she started to obviously droop.

Ashes decided to be kind, kid got out of bed to check they were alright after all when she absolutely did not have to. And she’d helped with in the inventory.

“C’mere Scrap.”

“Wha?”

“We’ve got the list finished, wanna come double check it with me?”

“Can-Can I sit on your lap?”

“Sure.” Ashes knew exactly what they’d signed on for this time and were expecting the question. Lily LOVED sitting on people’s laps, didn’t matter who, she just loved being sat on someone she could easily cuddle up to. They’d never admit to paying attention but it always warmed them a bit inside to see their crewmates, to a person, melt a little when they got a small space occupier. Even TS managed to look utterly thrilled even though its expression never changed.

“Okay then,” she yawned, “yes please.”

Lily walked carefully over to Ashes, trying not to let on how excited she was about this rare contact with the quartermaster and waited till they said it was alright.

Ashes hoisted the little girl up onto their lap, Lily sat politely still.

“Go on Scrap get comfy,” sighed Ashes, ruffling Lily’s hair encouragingly as the little girl settled against them having had permission.

Lily lasted all of five minutes before Ashes felt the tell-tale slump against them.

Allowing a small smile to spread across their face the quartermaster continued to finish their listing.

After another thirty minutes or so Ashes completed the current inventory one-handed they sighed and considered what to do next. Lily was out cold, cuddled up against Ashes’ chest, clinging to them like they’d always been there. Ashes felt another pang, they remembered being cuddled like this when they were smaller than Lily by one of the older orphans. There was an unspoken rule that the older ones looked out for the younger ones at night because no one else would.

For the first time Ashes felt a stab of regret for joining Mickey when they did. At eleven they counted as an ‘older one’ but never comforted a little one before leaving. They kept themself to themself, no one else really got the joy of flames like they did and the one time they managed to get something that was supposed to be ‘inflammable’ to burn beautifully and they were so damn proud of themself the friend they’d brought along panicked and snitched.

Ashes didn’t trust anyone in the orphan house after that.

It wasn’t worth the beating and loss of meal privileges for the week.

They embraced their new family wholeheartedly without a single backwards glance and accepted being the youngest once again with all the freedom to burn whatever they wanted.

Before they learned to be truly wary of touch; that a friendly clap of the shoulder could turn into an easy stab to the gut if they weren’t careful. Ashes learned to be on their guard at the orphan house but their awareness trebled in the Lucky Sevens. They’d never shaken that caution off.

They hadn’t really thought about it for centuries.

But maybe, maybe they might have liked being the one to comfort the little ones every so often. This was nice and it was nicer that Lily trusted them so much. She trusted them all but it was nice to have it confirmed, it definitely meant someone trusted you if they fell asleep on you. It was why the cuddle pile the first night Lily arrived had been nice. They’d not slept so peacefully like that for years.

All of them together like that had been actually pretty brilliant.

Not that they would admit it.

And anyway, they should probably head to bed and do something with the tiny child sleeping on them. Ashes didn’t want to wake her but they also didn’t want to take them to their bed. That was not an option. Trust was one thing but bed-sharing was next level and something they weren’t willing to stretch to yet. But putting Lily back in her own bed alone probably would wake her up and they’d be back to square one.

It took them roughly three seconds to make a decision.

Carefully Ashes rose gracefully, holding Lily tightly, waiting to see if there was any change in the sleeping child.

Lily snuffled closer.

Ashes refused to melt at that.

Deciding to focus instead what that meant- it was safe to proceed, Lily was out cold and unlikely to wake. They’d seen Jonny carrying her about, swaying with the motion and singing and the kid was dead to the world. They could absolutely get away with getting up.

Ashes hoped it was late enough for no one else to be up and about, and if they were they would deny everything and burn them for good measure.

Ashes made their way straight to their destination.

Jonny’s door wasn’t locked.

Jonny’s room wasn’t empty.

Just as they’d expected.

He’d been sleeping more regularly over these past four months, in his actual bed of his own accord, not passed out in the mess or having to be put to bed by Brian. Apparently being a comfort blanket for an eight year old orphan was clearly doing something for him, they’d never seen him this well rested, or this honestly exhausted. Emotions were hard and draining one of the many reasons Ashes tried to keep theirs under wraps. But they had to hand it to the kid, they’d not seen strung-out, post-nightmare Jonny roaming the corridors looking for a fight for a while. Every time they had crossed paths late at night Jonny was either crooning to Lily or screaming with her as they charged up and down hand in hand.

It was strange but Ashes thought that he looked as comfortable doing that as he was on stage or shooting people. Maybe even more so.

Ashes took a moment to regard their crewmate, friend, if they really had to admit it, best friend if they allowed themself to be sentimental in their own head for hot second. Jonny got the joy of cards and whiskey and truly satisfying arson in a way that nobody else did. Which meant they were willing to put up with a modicum of his bullshit, he’d been the one to light them a cigarette when they’d first awoken on the Aurora after all, helped them find their feet and breathe through their first few panics when they remembered the betrayal of smoke curling in their lungs. He’d helped them find the gasoline for Malone. He’d tried to keep Carmilla’s hands off them.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he’d get a pass.

He looked different when he was asleep, so much younger, like the years had melted off him, without all the swagger and bluster and rage he looked even younger than they knew themselves to have been when Carmilla got their hands on them. Huh. It was something Ashes had never really considered before, they always assumed he was older when Carmilla got him. Much older.

Anyway, they didn’t have time to ponder.

They had a child to deposit.

Ashes, using their other hand, deftly drew back the blankets covering Jonny. In a demonstration of how much had changed in four short months (or were they the longest four months in centuries?), instead of waking in a furious roar of confused gunfire and recrimination he snuffled in his sleep, calm enough to just pull back from them to chase the retreating warmth of the blankets, trying to burrow further into the mattress.

It would have been almost cute if you were into that sort of thing.

Very gently the quartermaster placed Lily onto said mattress next to the slumbering first mate.

It was like putting two magnets in close proximity, the second Lily was on the bed she was unconsciously seeking Jonny, shuffling towards him. Jonny for his part, the moment the mattress dipped with the weight of a second body his arm reached out for her, wrapped around her and pulled Lily into his side, safe and protected against the world. Neither showed any sign of anything other than a final settlement, a contented sleep knowing everything was as it should be.

A cub safe in the den once again.

Ashes allowed a small fond smile to form as they took in the sight, Jonny D’Ville, killer, renegade, liar and thief, and human(ish) teddy bear for an eight year old orphan. The universe was, by and large an uncaring cold expanse where not even a grain of justice or fairness could be found but sometimes, just sometimes, it threw things together that worked.

The two were good for each other. Ashes surprised themselves with how much it pleased them to see both occupants of the bed improve. How much they liked to see everyone in the crew take on a brighter, soften sheen.

Sometimes amidst all their violence and cheating and flames it was good to have something else. Something they could share.

They were glad it was this and what it had become.

Ashes pulled the blankets over the pair of them, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to Lily’s wild hair.

Because they could.

It felt right and no one could see them and no one need know. They didn’t need to know it was something they’d longed to feel in the orphan home, someone tucking them in with a soft kiss goodnight. Ashes would burn themself to their namesake before they’d own up to that fact. It didn’t stop it from being truth though, nor that they were glad they could do that for Lily. Kid was affectionate after all, she clung to anything that was offered.

They sauntered out confident that no one had witnessed anything and that was fine.

As Ashes headed for their own bed, Aurora considered her collection of images from that evening. There were some very choice ones of Ashes rocking Lily, working whilst they held her and carrying the sleeping child through the corridors, all the way to tucking her and Jonny back into bed together.

These would be perfect to add to the album Aurora was compiling for when Lily came of age.

And for blackmail purposes. Naturally.

#the mechanisms #Lily Of-Many-Names #ashes o'reilly #the mechanisms fanfic #the mechanisms fanart #Night Terrors Chapter 7 #Night Terrors

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