#ri says things the tag

[adhdtsukasa]

tsukasa tenma has ADHD!! except it's an actual analysis because 1. look at my url 2. i'm mentally unwell (and i started to love tsukasa mostly because i immediately recognized my ADHD traits in him). which is a thing i should probably leave for ADHD awareness month, HOWEVER!! it was my birthday yesterday and i wanted to spoil myself (i just kinda overlooked how much time writing it from scratch would take me, so i'm a bit late with it). and i reaaally don't wanna wait until november when i finally wrote it down because i'm so HYPED because i was preparing for it like what? two years? somewhere around it. and that's a LONG time.

please keep in mind that i'm no psychologist, psychiatrist nor a neurologist and while i do use some sources (cannot really confirm if they are true, though... because i forgot to write credits down... so i'm really sorry for that), most of this analysis was just based off on my personal experiences with the disorder (and i don't really have the full professional knowledge of what i struggle with i'm just a Boy). i mean, i am analyzing a character from a hatsune miku game. i think i'm already putting way too many effort than i should.

also the examples of tsukasa's behavior here are not all of the things, because i wrote down only the things i remember off from the top of my head. sorry, guys. my hyperactive ass is not sitting thru all the stories again just to get my crumbs, unfortunately.

anyways, with this a little bit unprofessional and messy introduction, let's get it started!

1. THE MAIN PART OF THIS WHOLE THING, AKA HOW THE ADHD SYMPTOMS CORRESPOND TO TSUKASA'S BEHAVIOR

i wanted to write it down in my own words, but i think the screen above has summed it up perfectly; there are some established symptoms of ADHD, but to be an ADHDer you don't have to experience them all. and this is going to explain why i'm gonna show a lot of these symptoms later, yet gonna connect only some of them with tsukasa. it's only these i have evidence for, and yet i think they're good enough to point at tsukasa and already say woah! an ADHDer!!

in short, there are three types of ADHD: hyperactive, inattentive (ADD) and combined. the combined one is the most common iirc, so that's also what i'm going to focus on today. especially since for a rep of the other types, i could say that shizuku's a rather great representation of ADD — but that's not the point of my ted talk today, so i'm not going to go into the detail about it. i'm sure some momojan or shizuku oshi would do better than me in this field, so i'm leaving it to the experts.

these are the symptoms that i managed to gather — the first two screens being about the symptoms viewed in children, the last one being about the symptoms viewed in adults. "in which one of them tsukasa belongs to?" that's a good question, because i actually don't know. calling a high schooler a child doesn't sit quite right with me, yet a freshly turned 17/18-years-old is not exactly an adult, either (although most of the symptoms i'm analyzing come from these that are viewed in adults). and while i do think tsukasa has more of the symptoms viewed in adults, we're gonna analyse them all! because i'm putting my all into this.

FORGETFULNESS

i believe there's not much left to say, as this is the most obvious one and everyone already knows that. even though it's not touched that much anymore for some reason, tsukasa's forgetfulness is his very apparent trait. it varies in severity a lot of times: from him basically forgetting both his childhood and true feelings in the main story to him, for example, forgetting his own phone and lunch (in the same day!!) in hinamatsuri. even saki in the same event, while they were arguing, called him a "big, dumb forgetter" and assumed that he forgot what happened the day he brought her the hinamatsuri dolls to hospital. while forgetting basically half of your life is not exactly normal and can be a sign of something bigger, like dissociative amnesia, his forgetting of just the ordinary things and it happening a lot definitely still fits this trait.

EXCESSIVE TALKING/PHYSICAL MOVEMENT

while this is something that you'd rather connect to emu (and for a good reason), it's not like tsukasa is completely devoid of it either; he talks a lot. he moves a lot. it's not on emu's level of hyperactivity, but it's also not "a lot" that's taken as a social norm, based on how the people around him react. he's putting the 1 in oddball 1 2, after all.

in holy night or some side stories connected to it (it might be meiko's side story? but i'm not exactly sure) it was also said that tsukasa moves in his sleep a lot to this point that his parents have to leave his christmas presents under his door instead of next to his bed.

oh, and he also talks to himself a lot. even in class, which was confirmed in chapter 6 of dazzling (or maybe even earlier, it's just the one moment that i remember). (but i'll get to this moment later on)

he says his long monologues, he strikes his poses at every occasion — and while i don't think that's the first thing you think of when you have "excessive talking/movement" in mind, for me it sure does count as it.

LITTLE OR NO SENSE OF DANGER

this point can seem rather weird, because "isn't tsukasa always riddiculed at rui's weird inventions"? well, yeah, he is, that is not a thing to deny. but he also agrees to try out most of them, if not all, if it's for the sake of the show. he's aware of what can happen, but he also doesn't back away if it means that he'll be one step closer to achieving his dream of stardom.

does it count as "little sense of danger"? well, i'm actually not sure, for me it doesn't, but maybe for someone it does. i'd say that's a rather weak point, but i wanted to include the explanation for the counterpoint of it — that's why i even mentioned it in the first place. i don't have a lot to say about this tbh.

update: oh, actually no, wait, i just remembered. remember how tsukasa in phoenix decided to not eat anything for three days just to be able to resonate with rio, while also having to do straining exercise on top of that? you certainly cannot say that's a safe thing to do, but he still went along with that in order to get the role. it makes me come to a conclusion that tsukasa actually has a sense of danger, but sometimes chooses to willingly ignore it if only it makes him get closer to fulfilling his dream. i think it's coming close enough to the little/no sense of danger to be actually considered an ADHD trait.

DIFFICULTY KEEPING QUIET

while i'm not sure if what i'm going to talk about is a difficulty keeping quiet in a traditional sense of way, it definitely counts as it, somehow: tsukasa is loud. like, really loud. and that's another obvious fact both for us and for characters in-universe, especially when thinking of tsukasa shiho's first thought is that he's kinda noisy, which can be seen in the "a friend's brother" 1koma. (and probably a lot of other cases. free shiho.)

tsukasa doesn't seem to realize that he's way louder than he should be and that him being loud is his first impression in most of the cases, though, or at least i don't remember any moment where it happens (and it's a possibility. then that's on me, i guess.). and yeah, i know what's the reason for it, obviously — he's supposed to be a comic relief character. because wansho's stories are mostly supposed to make you smile, as this is what wansho's aspiration is. however, as much as being intended to make the viewer laugh it wouldn't be, it still is a part of tsukasa's character, and a rather important one on top of that. his constant loudness is something that's definitely not considered normal by the society and could very well fit into this symptom.

and since i promised to elaborate on the mentioned before scene from dazzling chapter 6: when tsukasa talks to himself in class, it always ends up to be loud. and it already happened a few times.

(tl by tsukasa's #3 fan on youtube because i don't have proseka on my phone wah)

if it's not a difficulty keeping quiet, then i don't know what is. bro can scream up to 120dB as measured by robonene for god's sake.

IRRITABILITY/QUICK TEMPER

again, this is something that was more apparent with early game tsukasa, maybe he just got medicated. idk man. but even if it happened three, almost four years ago, it still happened, i don't make the rules. back in the early game, tsukasa was really easily losing his temper and getting annoyed, mad even — i mean, that was the whole point of the main story argument: tsukasa's first response to nene accidentally messing up their show, which was not even her fault, was to shout at her. and while this was obviously very important thing to him and being upset at this is a rather understandable reaction, taking this as far as screaming at a poor girl for not being to face the audience because of her anxiety is not something a person who can control their anger would do.

it could be also easily seen by his reaction to emu and rui's antics back in the early game, which were often stained with irritation.

another example is his hinamatsuri argument with saki, where, despite loving her so much, he still got slightly mad at her for not liking the new dolls he bought her. he started to regret his harsh words and actions soon enough, obviously, but it doesn't change the fact that it was rather easy for him to get him across.

INABILITY TO DEAL WITH STRESS

if i'm not mistaken, tsukasa has once said something along the lines of "is it anxiety? there's no way a star like me would feel anxiety" — but i cannot recall for the love of my life in which story it appeared, so i don't want to take it as a face value when i don't have a solid proof for it.

other than this vague mention of "something that's in the story but i don't remember where", i'll admit, i don't really have anything backing me up for this tbf. i mean, i guess maybe tsukasa doing his best to appear strong as a child to not worry his parents could work? because the stress of saki being in the hospital definitely was also present here, although i just see this more as a coping mechanism for his situation than a reaction to stress, so that's not a solid evidence either.

so, yeah. take this one with a grain of salt, actually.

from the symptoms that weren't listed here, i remember reading something about people with ADHD enjoying to show off more, which is certainly what tsukasa does often — and while it actually applies to me too, it wasn't on an english site so i didn't screenshot it and i cannot really find it anywhere in english... so even though i treat it just like my whole argument for the inability to deal with stress, i thought it's just worth mentioning.

however, there is obviously one more thing...

HYPERFIXATION/SPECIAL INTEREST

obviously, i'm talking about acting here: for tsukasa, acting aligns with all these criterias. it is his deep passion; it is something highly engaging for him; it is sometimes all-consuming for him; he tunes out the world around him when he thinks about how can he possibly improve his acting (see: the dazzling moment i showed earlier. yeah, i like to use it as a backing point a lot, as you can see.); and it is something that is his life-long interest.

is it his special interest or his hyperfixation, though? well, it's hard to tell...? because while according to screen two, spinterest revolves around a topic and hyperfixation revolves around an activity, so it would qualify what tsukasa feels towards acting as a hyperfixation, it's still kinda hard for me to call it so because of its length. yes, screen three clearly says that hyperfixation can last years, but they mostly revolve around shorter periods of time, after all (my longest hyperfixation was just a year long, for example). i think it's up to you to determine whether you'd call tsukasa's love for acting a hyperfixation or a special interest, but it's something from these two most certainly.

i'm also a big fan of the headcanon that tsukasa's other spinterest is kaito ww it's in no way a canon evidence (unfortunately!), but kaito's 1* side story, where tsukasa and emu are watching kaito's show and tsukasa is explaining to her why kaito's wearing a scarf somewhat implies that tsukasa knew a thing or two about kaito before the main story. and i'm all for it. colopale let tsukasa be a kaito fanboy pleaseee.

2. I REALLY LIKE ANALYZING SONGS, IF YOU CAN'T TELL

those who have already read a few of my things probably know what i love to do the most — analyzing songs!! so i wouldn't be myself if i just left tsukasa's commisions without analyzing them under the angle of neurodivergence, especially since the sole reason i became obsessed with the thought of ADHD tsukasa was that one sekahaji line (there's too much noise, so much noise and it keeps getting worse you will always be famous).

of course, remember that only the world hasn't even started yet should be taken as a canon value! producers are often given space to do whatever they want in the lyrics of the songs they are commissioned for, so they're not canonical in any way. i think it's still fun to look at their lyrics and ramble about them for a bit, though. i've already got too carried away anyways.

won't be posting photos of the lyrics since i'd hit the images limit, but you can check them yourself — all the translations i'm taking, as always, from the vocaloid lyrics wiki. (since filament fever has two tls on there, i want to clarify that i've only looked at and considered in my analysis the official english one, because it's, well, official.)

THE WORLD HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET

besides the mentioned earlier there's too much noise, so much noise and it keeps getting worse, which i think of as a representation of overstimulation (since i used to see people asking "oh but why tsukasa has something about there being too much noise in a song made out of his feelings when he's such a loud person himself". because he likes the noise he makes, not the overwhelming, overstimulating noise from the outside!!), sekahaji also has a rather good amount of quotes that could be read as something connected to neurodivergence (based on the fact that it's not supposed to be a song about this topic): the main theme of these are procrastination, which can be seen in let's cross the end of all of this, partying forever and the world hasn't even started yet line itself. the thought of the world not even starting implies that there's still a lot of time left to do something, while "partying forever" can refer to deciding to give up on doing the things you should do and going to drown in something that indulges only you and yourself for the rest of eternity. while procrastination is not counted as an official ADHD symptom, it's a trait that people with the disorder very often have (for reasons obvious).

other lines, which i couldn't entirely fit into a box of a certain symptom, are there's too much conflict, so much conflict and it keeps growing (a parallel line to the noise one, so it means something! right) and let's break the plans for a harmonious future. in my personal interpretation, they both can be viewed as your typical neurodivergent struggle in a neurotypical society — "too much conflict" refering to an internal struggle of not being completely normal, while the "harmonious future" that's going to get broken are just the social norms that are going to be broken because of an off-putting, neurodivergent behavior. something that some neurotypical people dooon't really like.

TONDEMO-WONDERZ

since i've just talked about breaking the social norms, "why?!" and "do it like this!!" aren't like you, huh? line from tondemo-wonderz is going to go first, because it revolves around the same topic. it's the same case: it's about (subconscious, not intentional) fighting what's accepted by the society by just being yourself — because you're neurodivergent, you're different.

from the other lines in tondemo-wonderz, i have only one and it's take an eraser to your memories?!, which is pretty much self explanatory. as always, a mention of forgetting something in tsukasa's commision. who would've thought.

88 SHOOTING STARS

another self explanatory line that i have written down as first: it's okay if you only remember a little part of it sometimes. another mention of tsukasa forgor™, and while it corresponds with what happened in dazzling, it's still a line mentioning forgetfulness — so it's worth mentioning.

aren't we just inevitably going around in circles? and it's okay if you take a rest for a little bit sometimes can be interpreted as another mention of procrastination and while it's not that apparent as it was with sekahaji, because going in circles can refer to something else and taking a rest sometimes is not a bad thing at all, i still wanted to mention them here. for the record.

you ought to slip and fall in panic in the final moment is connected to a symptom that i showed, yet didn't elaborate on it (because i didn't have anything to work with) — making careless mistakes. the same case, yet with another symptom goes with is this not enough yet again? is this not how it's supposed to be? couldn't we go even further than this?, which can be seen as a reflection of unability to listen to instructions. a bit of reaching with this one (like this whole part damn), but as i said earlier: for the record, i'm leaving it here. to show that i had some intense thoughts.

tbf, when i think about it now, maybe the mentioned earlier "why?!" and "do it like this!!" aren't like you [...] could very well fit this symptom too.

MR SHOWTIME

mr showtime you will always be famous, because this is a song that gave me a looot of things to work with. i was so flabbergasted when i read these lyrics for the first time. tsukasa tenma why are you like this. /aff

there are a lot of lines hinting being easily distracted, and these are basically the very first ones, too: you know what? i just can't make up my mind, it's so messed up that i can't put my thoughts together and a merry-go-round (my thought process) goes round and round are all about it. like you cannot deny it this time, if it's not about being unable to stay focused then i really don't know what is [insert the tsukasa don't look away stamp here because i love it and it's my biggest motivation to actually focus whenever i do something]. the more i mess around and waste time, the more i become hungry / and i can't handle it can be seen as about procrastination again, and even not "can be seen", it's literally being frustrated at yourself for wasting time, that's the sole outcome of a procrastination!! being bothered by feeling anxious, meanwhile, is resonating with the inability to deal with stress once again.

also jumping the gun. driving in a zigzag manner can actually connected with the little to no sense of danger. because, as far as i'm aware, driving in a zigzag manner is certainly not a safe activity. don't do it at home.

from the symptoms that i haven't yet mentioned to this point, am i taking a long way? am i making a fruitless effort? can be reflecting difficulty organizing tasks — since the poor planning of your activities can make you take a long way and can make you do a fruitless effort. then, where's the fun in taking shortcuts all the time? can be read along the lines of something coming close to extreme impatience and while a person that's extremely impatient would actually enjoy taking the shortcuts to get closer to their goal or destination, said impatience can be also connected with the desire for something interesting to happen. a task can make you impatient not because it's long, but because it's simply boring — avoiding shortcuts can make it less boring, even if it extends its duration. with this explanation, it makes the unexpectedness (unexpected program) is the best part of the show (my life) perfectly fit into this category, even though i wouldn't call this line a sign of impatience on its own.

i have some issues with i'm pathetic. i can't satisfy myself, because... at first i thought of connecting it with either mood swings or inability to deal with stress, however i'm not sure if that's really it. i'm pretty sure it connects to neurodivergence in some way, but i just can't put my finger on it, so... i'm just leaving it here for the record, once again.

oh, and there's also i got lost in the world (stage) and / the end credits rolled (the curtain fell), which also is pretty much summing up the experience of being neurodivergent in the neurotypical society. in the middle of trying to stay true to yourself and having to mask just to be accepted, it's easy to get lost — and once you do so, there's no going back. the curtain falls.

to end this part of the analysis, i'd show the lyrics from filament fever and sekai wo terasu tetrad here. i won't do this, however, and the reason for it is fairly simple — they don't give me much material to work with and i'm not really surprised, because mr showtime has succesfully sucked all of the neurodivergent coded lyrics into itself. there just won't be another song like mr showtime, i fear.

i can just say that in filament fever there is running away from the flow of time — which got me thinking of either procrastination and unability to stick to time-consuming tasks, with the former being more plausible as a potential interpretation... but that would be it.

3. NAKAYAMA IS A METAPHOR FOR NEURODIVERGENT MASKING AND IT'S THE STUPIDEST THING I'VE EVER SAID BUT YOU HAVE TO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS

listen, i know how it sounds.

i'm not actually a fan of trying to fit every thing a character does into a box of a metaphor, symbol or allegory, i really am not. i think some things should just stay as simple as they are, but this thought has been bothering me ever since i've first seen spoilers of what's happening in a story where you're the star for the very first time. i'm in no way saying it has any canonical meaning, but i just thought it would be fun to include. because maaaybe someone sees my vision.

for those who haven't seen tsukasa4 yet or want to have a recap of what has happened in it: the whole event story revolves around tsukasa trying to grasp his role (as always). wxs got recommended to shunmei-za by shousuke and went there to practice their acting skills, immediately getting thrown onto the preparation for their next performance. tsukasa, however, is not a lead this time — he got the role of a supporting character and has got basically three lines to say on stage total. since tsukasa's used to playing lead roles, he obviously has issues with grasping the role — it's hard to use method acting in regards of a character that says three sentences total and nothing more. with help of bakuno reki, one of the actors in shunmei-za, and the rest of wxs, he manages to create a portrayal of nakayama that would make him "come to life" and "be a protagonist of his own story", something that would make it easier for him to get into role, however...

he gets a little bit too carried away with his acting during the actual performance.

and this is not something that would ruin the whole play, obviously, he's just a supporting character, the less invested audience would probably forgot about his impact on the story after five minutes of his last appearance — but he still made a slip-up. he still resonated with his role, but didn't achieve the utmost perfection. he still did well acting, after all, he managed to receive praise from the director in the end... but it's still a very apparent mistake that was made.

(tl, once again, by the awesome tsukasa's #3 fan)

and that's where the nakayama masking metaphor theory (it's not even a theory but it sounds cooler this way) comes in.

nakayama is supposed to be just a man. from what we know about him, he's in his late twenties and works as an editor — and even though tsukasa makes up a whole backstory for him later on, he's still supposed to be ordinary. nothing special. he's coming nowhere near the other roles that tsukasa has played, he's not on the same level as miles, torpe and rio. and while you could possibly consider torpe and rio as rather ordinary, they still had something interesting to happen to them, the main reason why they were lead roles for their respective plays. in the tsukasa4 play, nakayama has nothing like that. he's literally just a guy, he's normal. and "normal" is a keyword here.

tsukasa did everything he could to fit into nakayama's role. he followed the script, he took the advice from a more talented and professional actor that is bakuno, he didn't do any mistakes during his preparations — and yet he still managed to mess up in the end. why?, besides of the fact that he just let himself become one with nakayama during the performance and it resulted in a supporting character outshining the lead?

if we take as a fact that tsukasa is, in fact, neurodivergent, it would make sense that he's having troubles with playing a normal person — because he's not exactly normal either. and this would very well work out as a metaphor of masking; even when you try your best, even when you mask yourself perfectly, you can still make slip-ups. you can still accidentally drop the act in middle of something that absolutely required it, or, similiar to what tsukasa did, can accidentally overdo it and end up perceived as even more weird than you'd be without masking. something something i got lost in the world and the end credits rolled. rings a bell?

and i'm not saying that tsukasa has a problem with masking, because he doesn't. he tries his best to pass as a normal member of society, but he also makes no effort in actively masking his weirdness (or else he wouldn't be a part of oddball one two). however, if you want to neurodivergent code your character, it would make sense to include a possibility of it in some way, right? especially since wxs stories' already had the theme of dealing with being perceived as weird (eg. rui's whole backstory, obviously). even if it's not affecting tsukasa directly, i think it would be cool to include something that indicates this issue's existence in his story and, in a way, his struggles.

however, as i said earlier, this is a very stupid thought and that's why i left it for the very end. i don't actually think that how tsukasa played nakayama was supposed to be a metaphor for masking, it's just a pure coincidence that it could be interpreted like that when you think about it too much.

aaand with this, we've finally come to an end!! (finally. i'm so exhausted.) i don't have anything more to say about this topic. maybe i'll retweet it with some more evidence in the future if we ever get more ADHDkasa content. for now, it would be all!

is tsukasa actually intentionally written as an ADHDer? Who Knows! there's a possibility that he is, but even if he's not, he's still one in my heart. regardless of the status of his possible neurodivergence, analyzing his behavior in this light was still very fun! and maybe i even converted someone into the ADHDkasa hell.

feel free to add something if you want to, and feel free to correct me if i got some things wrong! i still hope that even though of how messy this whole thing is written, i did tsukasa justice and didn't accidentally say too much nonsense lmao

...i hate ending analyses.

[theinfinitedivides]

'start that music / in the name of the Lord' exactly what is Bollywood coming to

[sinning-23]

Hot Tatted Uncle Pt.2 (Uncle!SukunaAu x Teacher!Reader)

Thanks so much for the love and support on pt.1 you guys are the besttt lol, honestly might be a 3 parter we'll see! ANyway, enjoy :0

Also pleaseee excuse any spelling errors yall

Link to Pt.1

PART THREE HERE!!!

_______________________________________

You stared at the text message, throat tight with excitement but dread. It had been a few months since the last incident with Yuji and his Uncle. The roguish male often picked up the young boy, tagging along with Yuji’s father. You’d usually just give Jin a rundown of his son’s day, ever so often catching Sukuna’s gaze as he leaned against the door frame. And every time it happened, you’d choke, clearing your throat and focusing your attention on Yuji and his father.

It didn’t help that he was always texting you, asking his his nephew was behaving. Even though it was cordial and polite, you still felt giddy getting texts from him.

This comes to the next point, why you’re sitting here practically gawking over the most recent message request from Yuji’s father.

-YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE:

Hello Miss Y/n! Do you babysit? I know Yuji loves having you as a teacher and I was wondering if you’d be interested in babysitting for him along with his Uncle while me and my wife go on vacation. Of course, you will be paid as well.

-Jin Itadori @ 6:28pm-

You wait to open it, pacing for a moment, thinking, first of all if you were available for the weekend and second, why couldn’t his uncle handle it?!

Well, given the man’s track record maybe an experienced hand in childcare could be useful. With a heavy sigh, you respond and you'd have to quickly come to terms with the fact that you would be essentially babysitting over 2 days with your students' hot uncle.

-----------

It's Friday now, and arrangements for you to simply drive Yuji back home and meet up there with his uncle were already in place. You were trusted with a spare house key, and their precious baby boy, who so seemed to be happier than a fly on shit that you would be spending even MORE time with him.

You gather your things and a few activities to pass the time, loading them into your car. Yuji insists on helping, carrying a small container of building blocks with his chubby hands. And god damn does he not stop talking while he does. It's adorable really, whatever comes off the top of the boy's head simply flying free.

"My-My uh uncle, he doesn’t have no girlfriend." He speaks, the statement making you choke.

"Ahaha is that so? He tells you to say that?" You joke, setting the pink-haired toddler in his car seat, and buckling him in with ease.

"MHM! My uh-" He coughs, quickly covering it with his elbow as you give a small 'good job' seeing as he's learning to keep his germs away from everyone, including you.

"My Uncle says uh he says that you got pretty eyes." He explains, your heart fluttering.

You sit in the driver seat finally, the boy still rambling on and on about what his uncle thinks about you. Though all you can do is respond with a simple, "Oh that's very kind, or a awee", Yuji is nonstop.

It’s quiet for a moment and as you’re pulling into the driveway when he says it, clear as day.

"Uncle says your ass is fat too."

You slam the brakes, the car jerking a bit when you do. What. The. FUCK-

The culprit is already awaiting you, arms folded over his chest as they flex. He’s got a white tank top on and a pair of black basketball shorts paired with slides and ankle socks.

Yuji squirms, growing ever more excited as Sukuna takes him out of the car seat and lightly jabs his knuckles to the boy's sides with a 'Rahhhh', as if he were some kind of tickle monster. Yuji of course laughs and if ALMOST makes you forget about what he'd just said a moment ago.

"Wanna help Miss Y/n put this inside?" Sukuna asks the small boy, handing him the block container from before. Yuji is quick to nod and scurry to the front door.

"I can bring the rest of this, Jin gave you the housekey right?" He asks, leaning against the frame of the car, your neck snapping towards him as you swallow thickly. Fuck you can see even more of the tats now in that shirt.

"U-Uhm yes, yes. I'll go get the door. I can get some of this too I-" You speak, fumbling to find the key. He only puts his hand up and shakes his head, the silver chain around his swishing a bit.

"Nah I gotchu. Yuji knows how to turn the TV on so he can watch his lil show for a bit.”

Sure enough, the minute you unlock the door, Yuji crawls atop the couch, using the remote to try his best to navigate. It takes a while, and he mispresses a few buttons but after about 5 minutes he manages to play something entertaining for him.

Sukuna had finished bringing your bags in as well as the one with activities in it, setting it on the stairs. He rolls his shoulder, pointing at Yuji who was immersed in the show.

"See." Sukuna hums, leaning against the countertop next to you, also skimming over the note. His body heat is practically radiating off of him, just standing by him is warming you up.

You nod in response, looking over the brief note Jin left for you both and according to what it said, your next step was to head up some leftovers for Yuji and then run him a bath.

"There’s two bathrooms so I can get the boy.” He offers, resting his hand behind his neck as you give a nervous laugh. FUCK this nervousness was most likely only on you. There’s no way he could be just as filled with anticipation as you were?!

You take the offer, giving a small thank you before fishing the shower and taking one considering you did just get off of work. Packed away in your bag was a set of comfortable clothes and a book with you figured would help pass the time once Yuji went to sleep.

You could hear footsteps and Yuji fussing back and forth with his Uncle.

“Hush man you’re making me look bad.” Sukuna groans, throwing the toddler over his shoulder as he giggles but continues to thrash, pounding tiny fists against the older male's back.

“No! NO BATH! I don’t wanna!” Yuji whines, his Uncle only growling in response.

“I’ll give you candy if you stop.”

And just like that it was quiet.

-8:30pm-

The night had gone smoother than you thought, you and Sukuna both interacting with Yuji as it’s beginning to be time to wind down. His eyes were beginning to get heavy and before you knew it he was slumped against the couch, clutching an unfinished sucker in one hand and a white puppy plush in the other. You smile, scooping him up and patting him when he stirs.

“Be right back, let me tuck him in.” You whisper, seeing Sukuna look up from his phone and nod, one arm slung over the sofa while he practically manspreads

-9:00pm-

Turns out, Yuji took a bit longer to fall asleep when he realized he was being put down and so you had to sit and pat him for an extra 30 minutes. And once you returned to the living room, there was Sukuna, still scrolling. Well, that was until you came in.

“Sorry, he wouldn’t go back to sleep.” You explain, sitting at the farthest end from him, picking up your book in the silence.

“So you like working up there? At the school?” He asks, putting his phone down to hold the conversation with you.

It takes you by surprise for a second but you are quickly to respond.

“Well yeah, I love the kids and I love working there and teaching them things. Yuji is a sweetheart and it’s definitely kids like him that make it all worth it.” You explain, a smile making its way to your lips.

“You got kids?” He asks, eyes on your frame as you laugh a bit in response

“Nah, don’t really plan on it right now either. Kids are difficult.” You answer, now facing him a bit more, body relaxed.

What was there to be so scared of?! He’s a chill guy who just so happened to be hot as fuck asking you about your career and life?!

“How about you? Kids? Working?” You flip, seeing him shift a bit uncomfortably.

“Hell nah. I see how Jin deals with Yuji and I’m not really cut you to be a dad. And for work well, I’m a priest.” He states, smirking at the surprised look on your face.

“R-Really??” You question definitely surprised.

“Nah I’m just fucking with you.” He laughs and you do the same, trying to keep your volume down since Yuji did just fall asleep.

-11:08pm-

It was crazy to believe you’d spent about two hours just talking back and forth, with him about his past, his brother, and his nephew. You about your own life and current living situations. Somehow the conversation took…a turn.

“Y’know, it’s funny because Yuji keeps telling me about these things you say and I think it’s so funny. Like he’s your little wingman.” You laugh, seeing him grin right back at you.

“Yeah like what?” He asks, more teasing than anything.

“Well he said that you said I have pretty eyes and on the way here he goes, ‘uncle says your ass is fat’” you explain with a laugh that he doesn't return.

Instead you see his lip tuck between his teeth after he licks them.

“I did say that.”

Suddenly the room is hot, and you’re very aware of how sharp his canaines look in that stupid grin. How his hand is grinning the back of the couch cushion. And for some goddamn reason you just had to look down, that fucking print so visible against his inner thigh.

Your breath falters, eyes wide and you swallow back any doubt. So he had said all that stuff and it want just Yuji repeating something or just talking.

“I-Well I…Thank you? I-I mean I’d be lying if I said hadn’t looked at you too.” You admit, his body shifting to face you more, almost caging you in on the couch.

“I figured. Every time I come to pick up you can’t seems to form a sentence correctly .” He notes.

“Suku-“

“Ryo.” He corrects. Lifting the strap of your nightshirt over your shoulder, playing with the fabric for a moment.

“Ryo.” You test, hearing his exhale heavily.

“Let’s stop pretending there’s nothing happing and has been happening here. No rule against fooling around with me is there?” Sukuna tests, his hand trailing up to rest no on your neck, his thumb pulling your lower lip down.

“No.”

And with that you make the first move to connect your lips, his arms immediately going to lift you up ans set you against his lap.

Damn does that bulge feel to much better resting between your legs than just looking at it.

___________________________________

Authors note: OKAY YEHA ITs gonna be a 3 parter with smut in the next one I cant resist lol yall know smut is my specialty! LMK if you wanna be added to the taglist shawty!

Taglist: @manikosii @ya-boi-v @tergyri @ninacutebee16 @minaloq @kriegsumire-blog @samisfunky @peachhiz @teupaidecalcinhasblog @khaotic-luca @gurutoru @molita111 @snail-squasher @rowrowrowyourboat13

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 15.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party. 

It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion. 

To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.

Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought. 

Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.

“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”

This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other. 

There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes. 

He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns. 

You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.

In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.

He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.

“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”

“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles. 

“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.

“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.

“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.

“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state. 

“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”

“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”

“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”

“What?”

“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”

The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”

“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”

“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”

“How brutal,” you tease again.

“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”

“You know about those?” You gasp. 

“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”

“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”

“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.

“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” he hums. 

It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied. 

Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.

The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.

“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”

“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.

Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.

“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.

He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here. 

He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.

Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.

“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”

“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.

“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”

“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”

“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”

“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”

“I will.”

Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself. 

It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night. 

For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does. 

He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it. 

Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them. 

And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?

It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out. 

After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back. 

This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself. 

He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.

But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile. 

Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break. 

She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.

“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked. 

It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say. 

Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to. 

But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming. 

It’s safer where he is.

So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.

“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words. 

“Okay,” she whispers in submission. 

She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to. 

But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.  

He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.

“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”

You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?

Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment. 

Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”

“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”

“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”

“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.

“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”

“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”

“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”

You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over. 

The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.

“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”

“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”

“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”

“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.

“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.

“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”

“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”

“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”

“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it’s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”

“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh. 

The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility. 

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you. 

Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them. 

You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.  

There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for. 

Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted. 

They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.

“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.

“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”

“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle. 

“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”

“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”

“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”

“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”

“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”

“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”

She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time. 

The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too. 

After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.

Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him. 

Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally. 

“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.

“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.

“No, but a person would,” she shrugged. 

“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”

“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.”

There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”

“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.” 

The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day. 

He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day. 

It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas. 

Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.

He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him. 

“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he. 

It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.

“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”

“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say. 

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.  

The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it. 

“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.

The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him. 

For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together. 

He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts. 

He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”

“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”

“You… had this made for me?”

He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.

“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”

“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad. 

You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking. 

But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return. 

“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”

“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished. 

It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants. 

But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks. 

You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you. 

Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.

Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it. 

“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.

“Yes.”

“Is that the one on your desk?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”

“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”

“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere. 

“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”

He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other. 

“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop. 

You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem. 

Happy birthday, it reads. 

This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time. 

It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.

You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes. 

Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful. 

And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.

[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.

It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time. 

Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.

The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track. 

It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it. 

He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job. 

His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself. 

You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.

You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened. 

The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.

“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”

“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”

“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”

“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face. 

“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”

“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.

“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”

“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”

His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.

“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.

“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”

“I will, sir,” you reply. 

You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more. 

Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that. 

He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you. 

He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you. 

“Let me,” he says.

You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself. 

It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.

He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.

“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.

It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.

One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat. 

It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on. 

You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.

“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”

“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”

“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.

“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.

“You were there?!” You gasp.

“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans. 

“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug. 

“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”

“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”

“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”

“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”

“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.

Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.” 

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration. 

“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it. 

He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.

“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about. 

“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases. 

You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.

“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”

“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”

You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.

“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.

“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back. 

“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”

“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”

“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.

“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”

“You were there?”

“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”

Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him. 

“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.

“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”

Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.

“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”

“What started?”

“Me, liking her.”

It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday. 

“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.

“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give. 

There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space. 

Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays. 

The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes. 

Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well. 

You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.

“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”

“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”

“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”

You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.

“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he hums.

“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back. 

Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.

“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.

You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can. 

He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby. 

“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”

“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”

He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again. 

There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.

Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.

Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook. 

Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done. 

You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook. 

It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone. 

The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night. 

You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.  

Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same. 

“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look. 

“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time. 

“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.

He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again. 

Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.

“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”

And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you. 

“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.  

He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.

“All good?” He asks. 

“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room. 

He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.

There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same. 

It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.

But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away. 

He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off. 

You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.

But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.

“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”

“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday. 

“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?” 

“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.” 

Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”

“I got used to you.” 

He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.

“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.

“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”

Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness. 

“Consideration,” you say instead. 

Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.

“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”

Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.

When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.

There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed. 

There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one. 

The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays. 

It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take. 

“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”

“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.” 

You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well. 

Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.

Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.

“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.

“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases. 

It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.

Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”

“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists. 

“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”

You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it. 

You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.

“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.

You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.

“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”

“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”

“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks. 

It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance. 

“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”

“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.

A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything. 

“I will,” he nods. 

Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”

He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him. 

And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.

You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too. 

“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out. 

You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.

“Ready to head home?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. 

You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.

“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks. 

“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”

Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything. 

For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on. 

The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.

You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.

You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of. 

There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.

Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.

Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.

You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual. 

You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there. 

But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.

By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home. 

“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”

It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.

He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so  you settle with just watching him walk away. 

But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone. 

“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.

“Good night, ___. And thank you.”

It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar. 

It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again. 

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink @jvngkooker @stopeatread @craftymoonchaos @alpacaparkaseok @coletaehyung

Series Taglist: 

@xhazmania @ash07128 @rinkud @junniesoleilkth @junecat18 @peachytokki @baechugff @coralmusicblaze @jalexad @pamzn @hoseoksluv89 @familiarlikemymirror3 @kookies-n-spice @hyuneyeon @thisartemisnevermisses @jk97bam @nadzzzblog @xyarinx @megnugget98 @shameless-army @jkslvsnella @lvr2seok @nayashalouiseburrows @peterstarkchrishiddleston @kgneptun @cynicalbitch666 @roxexexee @llallaaa

[fourth-wing-stories]

Mirrorball - Part 4

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Ridoc x OC

Words: 1747

Summary: Tensions run high as Iris and Ridoc find themselves caught in a storm of emotions. After weeks of unspoken feelings and jealous glances, a heated argument brings everything to the surface.

Masterlist

A/N: Hope you like it xoxo

Part 3 || Part 5

Tags: @sweetsugarcoffee

Requests are OPEN, check bio

When the group went to the bar that night, the atmosphere was light and familiar—like countless evenings before, filled with laughter, drinks, and banter among the riders. They had a table in the corner, slightly removed from the loudest part of the crowd, but still surrounded by the hum of conversation and clinking mugs.

Iris sat with Rhiannon and Violet, casually sipping her drink as Ridoc sat across the table, surrounded by Sawyer, Aaric, and a few others. As usual, Ridoc was his charming, easygoing self, laughing loudly at something Sawyer said, but Iris could feel his gaze flick toward her more often than usual.

Rhiannon nudged Iris with a smirk. “He’s been glancing your way all night. Care to explain?”

Iris rolled her eyes, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her neck. “Nothing to explain. We’re just... friends.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Violet chimed in, clearly not buying it. She leaned in, her tone teasing. “Is that what all that tension was about earlier? Because it feels like more than just friends.”

Iris didn’t respond, instead taking another sip of her drink and avoiding their knowing looks. She could feel the tension between herself and Ridoc building all evening, just like it always did when they were near each other. But Iris was not gonna be someone's second choice, someone he goes to when the thing with the guy from third year ends or Ridoc gets bored. She´s not gonna be the one pining for a guy that might not even be interested her beyond a good fuck.

The third year, Jason was his name, came up to our table and sat down next to Ridoc. Iris could feel her chest tighten at the sight. Enough was enough, she needed a distraction. She spotted Kellan at the bar, he´d try to flirt with her before but she had shut it down. He wasn´t really her type but he'd do.

She stood up and told Vi and Ri she was gonna get another drink. She was gonna get another drink, just hopefully it be Kellen buying. As she came up to him, she brushed her hand over his arm and she already knew she had him. He lost all interested inn his buddies and turned all his attention on her.

At their table Ridoc was now fuming. Iris laughed at something Kellen said, though she barely registered his words—her attention was divided, fully aware of Ridoc watching her from across the table.

She met his eyes and for a moment they just looked at each other then he looked back to Jason next to him. but. She'd been so stupid to think he was actually interested inn her. The third year leaned in close to him, laughing at something he said, his hand resting lightly on his arm.

She caught Ridoc’s eye across the table, and there it was: his signature smirk. He raised his glass in a silent challenge, as if to say, jealous?

Kellan leaned in closer, his hand brushing her arm as he asked her something, but she didn’t quite catch what it was. She was too focused on Ridoc—how his eyes kept flicking toward her, how he seemed to be deliberately ignoring her, as if that wasn’t exactly what she was doing too.

“Hey, are you listening?” Kellan’s voice snapped her back to the moment.

“Something on your mind?” Kellan asked, a playful smirk on his lips, he put his han around her waist pulling her in a bit closer, obviously trying to keep her attention.

Iris opened her mouth to reply, but just then, she saw Ridoc push his chair back and stand up. Jason reached for him, asking something, but Ridoc waved him off, his eyes locking on Iris again. That smirk was gone, replaced by something darker, something more intense.

She turned back to Kellan, knowing full well what she was doing. “Actually, I think I’m going to step outside for some air. Too much noise in here.”

Kellan blinked, surprised. “Uh, want some company?”

Before Iris could answer, Ridoc was suddenly beside her. “She’s good,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge, not even bothering to look at Kellan. He was focused entirely on Iris, and she could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

Kellan frowned, looking between them. “Everything okay?”

“Iris and I need to talk,” Ridoc said firmly, giving Kellan a look that brooked no argument.

Iris shot Kellan an apologetic look before following Ridoc as he led her out of the bar. The cool night air hit her as they stepped outside, the sky overcast, heavy with the promise of rain. They were just outside the bar’s entrance, far enough from the noise but close enough that she could still hear the muffled laughter and clinking glasses from inside.

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling defensive, and turned to face Ridoc. “What the hell, Ridoc? I was in the middle of a conversation.”

“A conversation?” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “With Kellan?”

“What does it matter to you?” she shot back, her frustration bubbling up. “You seemed pretty busy with Jason.”

Ridoc let out a sharp laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, so this is what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?!” Iris’ voice rose. “Of course not! Why would I be jealous of you and him?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Ridoc retorted, stepping closer to her. “You were practically throwing yourself at Kellan in there.”

“I was talking to him, Ridoc. You have no right to—”

“To what?” he cut her off, his voice rising with frustration. “To care? To be pissed off when I see you flirting with some guy?”

“Oh, so it’s okay when you’re flirting with Jason, but when I talk to someone, it’s a problem?” Iris shot back, her anger flaring. She could feel the tension between them crackling like the air before a storm, and she was done pretending it didn’t affect her.

“I wasn’t flirting with Jason,” Ridoc growled, his eyes flashing. He was telling the truth, she could feel it. But that didn´t make her any less angry. “And don’t act like you don’t know what this is about, Iris.” he continued.

“I don’t, Ridoc! I don’t understand you at all!” she snapped. “One minute, you’re distant, you’re pushing me away, and the next you’re acting like I’m the only person in the room. What do you want from me?!”

Ridoc stepped even closer, his face inches from hers, the intensity in his gaze making her heart race. “I don’t want to push you away,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But damn it, Iris, you drive me crazy.”

Before she could finish, the sky opened up and rain began to pour down, drenching them in seconds. But neither of them moved, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging between them.

“What the hell do you want, Ridoc?” Iris snapped, trying to mask the vulnerability she felt creeping up her spine. She wasn’t going to stand there and let him pretend like nothing had been happening between them, like it wasn’t affecting her.

Ridoc walked closer, shaking his head in frustration, his voice firm but not angry. “We should go inside, you’ll get sick.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Iris let out a short, bitter laugh, her heart pounding in her chest. “You think I care about the rain right now? Really?”

He stepped even closer, close enough now that she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rose and fell as though he was holding back something. His voice was low, the words almost lost in the sound of the rain. “No but I care about you, so stop yelling at me and get back inside" Iris didn´t move.

She shook her head, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “You have a funny way of showing it. One minute you’re all smiles and smirks, the next you’re off with Jason or flirting with whoever catches your eye. What am I supposed to think, Ridoc? That I’m just some... temporary amusement for you?”

Ridoc’s eyes darkened, his hands clenching at his sides. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Iris shot back, the rawness in her voice making her throat tighten. “Because I’m not going to keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt every time I see you with someone else.”

She turned to walk away, her heart aching in a way she hadn’t expected, but before she could take more than a step, Ridoc reached out, grabbing her arm—not forcefully, but enough to stop her.

“Iris, wait,” he said, his voice rough now, desperate. “It’s not like that.”

She stopped, looking back at him, rainwater dripping from her chin. “Then what is it like? Because I don’t understand you, Ridoc. One minute you’re all over me, the next, you’re acting like nothing matters. I’m not playing this game with you.”

"I´m not playing games with you!" he yells back stepping closer.

"Fuck this" Iris yells back then turns to walk back to Basgiath when Ridoc grabs her hand and pulls her back, making her turn to face him. "What-" She starts but is silenced by Ridoc pulling her close and kissing her. For a brief moment, she let herself get lost in it—the feeling of his lips on hers, the way he pulled her close. But then the frustration, the confusion, the hurt bubbled back up, and she pushed him away, her breath shaky.

Their eyes meet and they just stay quiet.

Before Iris can speak Ridoc breaks the silence “See you tomorrow, Draven.” Then walks back towards Basgiath leaving Iris alone in the rain. As Ridoc walks away, his heart races, the taste of her still on his lips. He wanted to say more, to explain everything, but the words got caught in his throat. Damn it, Draven. He wasn’t sure what scared him more—how much he wanted her or how much he had to lose.

Iris stood there, frozen in place, watching him walk away. The rain soaking through her clothes, but all she could feel was the heat of his lips on hers. Her mind raced, torn between the anger still simmering in her chest and the undeniable pull she felt toward him. She wanted to hate him for how easily he messed with her heart, but the truth was, she wasn’t sure if she could.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

You and me makes three

(or four, or five ...)

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 4

Prompts: Breeding Kink & Vibrator

Rated: E

Words: 1,359

Tags: Omegaverse; A/B/O dynamics; Alpha Steve; Omega Eddie; Mates; Mpreg; Pregnancy Kink; Breeding Kink; Vibrators; Knotting; Possessive Steve; Jealous Steve

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

“Steve. Stevie, c’mon. Wake up, please.”  

Steve shoots upright with a sound that's half snore and half growl, bleary eyes scanning the bedroom for threats. Then, his nostrils flare and the feral snarl gives way to a disbelieving frown. 

“What, seriously?” he asks. “Again?” 

Eddie shrugs. The movement makes more slick ooze from between his legs. Maybe he'd be embarrassed about it, if Steve's pupils didn't blow up like that, or if his scent didn't spike like it does. Or if he wasn't feeling this desperately, mind-numbingly horny.

“Sorry?” he says. “I'd take care of it myself, but it's getting kinda hard to reach, what with your kid in the way.” 

Being pregnant is fucking bizarre.

Eddie has tried to approach it with an open mind, once the initial shock wore off and Steve assured him he wasn't going anywhere. But now, six months in? The whole thing just continues to weird him out.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Steve. He’s the most perfect alpha and mate Eddie could've asked for. He’s going to make an amazing father to this kid. Which Eddie is sure will be adorable. He just sort of wishes he could skip the part where he needs to grow it in his own belly, being forced to put up with another hormone-induced ridiculousness every other week.

Hell, he thought the morning sickness was bad. Or the mood swings. Or the inexplicable cravings for salt and vinegar potato chips at three in the morning. But this most recent thing is well and truly taking the cake. 

Steve yawns and grumbles, and Eddie can't say he blames him. The kid isn't even born yet and here he goes, robbing them both of their much needed sleep because his body has decided they need to get it on at least two times a day or perish. It’s fucking stupid! 

Still, Steve folds back the covers, pulls open the nightstand drawer, and slips closer. Eddie sighs in relief when his mate's naked body slots into his from behind, already hard and pressing against his entrance, right where he needs it. Only a second later, the warm, solid weight of Steve’s cock is joined by something else, something smoother and colder, and the sigh turns into a low moan. Steve laughs softly and kisses his naked shoulder as the dildo hums to life.

What did he say? Best goddamn alpha in the world. 

“This is so weird,” Steve murmurs as he pushes in, the combined girth of his cock and the toy stretching Eddie wide open, his free arm wrapping around the soft swell of Eddie’s belly to pull him close. “This was in none of the pregnancy books.” 

“I know, ri-?” Eddie starts to say, but needs to stop himself for the chirp that bubbles from his chest. He feels deliciously full, the low vibrations of the toy sending shivers all the way down his spine, making little fireworks sizzle low in his abdomen. “Right? Seriously, what the fuck? You’ve knocked me up already, not like you can put ano- … another one in there.” 

Steve, who has just started rolling his hips in lazy circles, goes very still. For a few seconds, the only sound in the bedroom is that of the dildo still humming away.

“What?” Eddie asks when he still hasn't moved after a while. “Steve, I swear to God, if you've fallen asleep with your dick inside of me I'll-” 

“No,” Steve blurts. “I'm awake. It's just …” 

He pauses to clear his throat and fidget, and that is when Eddie catches the change in his scent. Earthy and heady and distinctly aroused.  

“Oh God,” he groans. “Don't tell me that does it for you!” 

“What?” Steve mutters, and Eddie doesn't need to see his blush to know it's there. “You gotta admit, the thought is kinda hot.” 

His hand finds Eddie’s belly, splaying over the round shape of it, and Eddie’s own cock twitches treacherously.

“Shut up, it's not,” he says, even as the familiar feeling pools at the base of his spine, hot and tight and urgent. Steve chuckles, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and scraping his teeth over the mating bite there. 

“Your scent says otherwise, baby,” he murmurs, and Eddie can feel his smile against his skin as another chirp escapes him. “Just imagine … me stuffing you with my cock? Filling you up with my come, knotting you so good that not a single drop escapes? Breeding you round and full with my pups? I wonder how many I could put into you.” 

“Oh God,” Eddie groans, baring his neck for better access and rocking his hips back as Steve finally, finally starts moving his cock and the toy inside of him again. “You're such a weirdo.” 

Steve laughs, picking up speed. “Takes one to know one. Maybe that's the reason you can't get enough lately. Why no matter what I do, you never seem to be full enough. Why I need to use this thing…” 

He pauses to push the toy in further, hitting that spot deep inside that sends sparks of pleasure zapping all the way into Eddie’s fingertips and toes. 

“... to get you anywhere near satisfied for a few hours.” 

“Aw, don't tell me you're jealous,” Eddie says. He tries to sound teasing but it comes out a lot weaker than intended. It's difficult, being smart while Steve is taking him apart in all the best ways. “You know there's no need to, right? Not with your baby in my belly and your mark on my neck. I'm all yours and nobody else's, alpha.” 

Steve growls at the word, his summer forest scent filling the room like a tangible thing, and that is all the warning Eddie gets before the toy is pulled out and he finds himself flipped on his back, Steve's cock still inside of him, Steve’s lips claiming his for a hungry kiss.

“Nobody else’s,” Steve repeats. The bed frame creaks under the power of his thrusts as he fucks Eddie into the mattress. “All mine, forever and ever and ever.” 

Eddie can’t say he minds the thought one single bit. 

*

“You’re so beautiful like this, have I told you?” 

Dawn is starting to creep through the blinds of the bedroom window, but Steve keeps running reverent hands over Eddie’s belly, eyes full of awe, and Eddie preens under the attention. 

“Don’t mind if you tell me again, big boy.” 

Steve purrs, pushing back Eddie’s sweaty fringe so that he can kiss his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely breathtaking. My mate, carrying my child. I’m gonna put so many in you.” 

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Eddie yawns, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back as well as he can. The movement makes Steve’s knot, still large and locked inside of him, catch deliciously. “Can we just try to make it one after the other? I like actually walking places instead of rolling. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s an ability I’m rather attached to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve gives him a smug grin and rolls his hips. “There's another thing you're attached to right now, and that's my-.” 

Eddie slaps a hand in front of his mouth. “Ugh, you're such a dork. I hope the kid doesn't inherit your sense of humor.” 

Steve kisses his open palm. 

“I hope they inherit your everything,” he says, ridiculously earnest, and Eddie needs to bury his face in the sheets to hide the way his face ignites. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles at the pillows, ignoring how Steve’s chest quivers with barely concealed laughter. “Let's go back to sleep. Have you looked at the time?” 

“Says the one who woke me because he needed to get dicked,” Steve grumbles, but obediently pulls the covers over them, curling himself around Eddie. 

Silence descends over the bedroom, and Eddie loses himself in Steve’s soothing scent as he slowly begins to drift off again. 

“Don't listen to him,” he hears Steve whisper, just before sleep claims him. “I'm hilarious and he knows it.” 

A warm hand settles on his belly. 

“Sleep well. Can't wait to meet you.” 

More smutty September

[asahicore]

hometown - pjs (teaser)

teaser wc: 1.8k don't ask me about the expected word count or release date. that's knowledge only the higher powers of this universe have access to just a little extract from the exes to lovers, small town au Jay fic i'm working on because I feel like I haven't posted in eons... hope you guys like it and are looking forward to it, I was going thrrooooough it writing this for some time but now it's getting better and i'm enjoying the process... let me know if you'd like to be tagged when it comes out!! enjoy!!

You stay behind. Jay doesn’t know if the three women are exceptionally good at reading the room, or if he missed some silent signal of understanding between you and them, but they don’t question your not following them. The sudden quietness makes Jay feel like a giant in a too-small space, a room that can’t possibly contain the two of you.

And yet. You sigh and head back to the living room, going for the couch rather than the cushions on the floor, but Jay can’t bring himself to join you, and so sits back at the same spot from earlier.

“Seriously, Jay?” you say, chuckling, but he detects an actual trace of annoyance in your voice. Unable to hide your thoughts as always, you are. You pat a spot on the couch next to you. “Come here.”

But Jay doesn’t move. Can’t. All he can do when he looks at you is search for traces of grief. He had five years to work out all of his feelings around your breakup, and he thought he had sorted through everything, gone through all the phases. Seeing you again, he feels like he has to start over. The past week hasn’t felt real, he thinks. He thinks it so hard, he says it out loud, only realizing what he did when he sees your expression soften.

“It’s been weird, hasn’t it?”

“Weird is one way to put it, yeah.”

There’s a pause, of which he spends every second worrying about what sort of turn this conversation will take.

“Is this a good time to talk about the elephant in the room, then?” you finally say.

He looks around, eyebrows furrowed with worry. “There’s an elephant in this room?!” he whispers.

You burst into laughter. “I see your humor hasn’t improved over time.”

“Seeing as you’re laughing, I’d say yours hasn’t, either.”

“Touché.”

Silence settles between the two of you again, creeps inside Jay, makes him wait for your next words with bated breath. 

He had a feeling that all the skirting around the subject you’d been doing would come to this. It’s not that you’ve pretending it didn’t happen, that would be impossible, for him, at least—he looks at you and he’s transported back to Seoul five years ago, at school, in one of your apartments, in the streets after dark. But you haven’t been actively tackling it either and with every passing day, the weight of unspoken words grew, making every conversation, every look at you harder and harder to navigate. This is new for the two of you, who in your six months of being together, had mastered your communication skills—you never didn’t speak to each other. You especially were good at saying what was on your mind without ever being hurtful, and you’d helped Jay stop bottling his feelings up when he thought he could get over them himself and not have to trouble you with them.

Nothing you say could ever burden me, baby, you’d told him. I want to know everything that goes through your head. 

And many things have changed since then, but maybe this hasn’t—the look you have in your eyes now is the same one as then, soft and inviting, aware that conversations aren’t always as easy as they are necessary. 

“You’re here,” you say after some time. Jay was so caught up in his own thoughts, entire minutes could’ve passed without his noticing. You spoke so quietly, he wonders if he imagined it until you add, “You’re in Sojuk-ri.”

He smiles, stops himself from replying with something annoying like “What an astute observation, Y/N,” it would only be stalling. So, for lack of a better alternative, and because he assumes you have more to say, he whispers, “I am.”

“We used to date.”

Jay isn’t sure where you’re going with this. He nods, unable to suppress a grin. “We did, yeah,” he replies, louder this time.

“Then we broke up.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “You’re on fire this morning,” he says, because he can’t help himself, and warmth envelops his heart at the sound of your laughter.

“I just want to recontextualise.”

“Wow, big words.”

“Big word, singular. And shut up. I’m trying to be serious, here,” you chide, still smiling.

“Sorry.”

A sudden shadow passes over your face, making your eyebrows furrow, your smile disappear. Jay’s heart drops, his feelings, as always, a mirror of yours. You rise from your seat on the couch and make your way to him. Every step you take echoes inside of him and grows louder as the distance separating you decreases. Then you’re standing in front of him, and he looks up at you, and there’s something like a magnet under his skin, desperately reaching out for yours, that makes his hand wrap around your ankle. His eyes stay trained on your face as you lower yourself to the ground and cross your legs. If you mind his touch, you don’t say or show it. 

“It doesn’t feel real,” you say. Your eyes sweep his face, focus on one part at a time. You simply stare at him for a moment as though trying to convince yourself that it is, indeed, real, that he is really there, not a figment of your imagination but a person whose flesh and bones used to be as familiar as your own. He lets you look to your heart’s content, because it allows him to look at you, too.

His loose grip around your ankle tightens ever so slightly and you look down at his hand as if suddenly noticing its presence there. After a second of what seems to Jay like hesitation, you place your hand atop his. “Would you still have moved here if you knew this was where I lived?”

“I would’ve come here years ago, had I known,” he says with a small smile.

You furrow your eyebrows. “You didn’t even try calling.”

This takes him aback. Was that what you’d wanted? “I texted you, and you blocked me right away.”

The crease between your brows deepens. “I know.”

“You also didn’t try calling.”

“I sent you a letter.”

For some reason, it astonishes Jay that in all of five years, communication between the two of you amounted to one unanswered text and a letter with no return address. “You did. That was nice of you.”

Finally, this gets a smile, albeit subdued, out of you. “I know.”

“If I’d managed to call you somehow, would you have picked up?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. Then, “No. I don’t know.” Then, in a smaller voice, “It hurts too much to think about the other ways it could’ve gone. The better ways.”

Jay sighs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Then let’s not think about them. It won’t do us any good.”

Your eyes meet. The sadness in yours tugs at his heartstrings. “Are you mad at me?” you ask, the tremble in your voice making it sound like you’re on the verge of crying, and it’s all Jay can do not to take you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest.

“No. Not at all,” he says, and he hopes his tone alone is enough to convince you. 

This magnet under his skin is uncontrollable. It raises Jay’s hand from where it was resting on your shoulder to your face, makes it cup your cheek, makes his thumb swipe slowly across your skin, right where tears are threatening to fall, as if preventing them.

“I tried being mad at you,” he says. “I tried a bunch of emotions. Sadness. Indifference. Nostalgia. But anger made things so much worse. It didn’t feel right, because I’d never been angry with you before. And it felt… It felt like admitting things could’ve gone differently. It felt like grieving a version of us that never existed because it never got the chance to. I decided to focus on the actual memories we had, and remember them fondly, instead of wasting my energy on being angry.”

A single tear falls from your right eye, wetting the top of Jay’s thumb. “I understand why you did what you did, baby,” he continues. “You had your reasons. You handled everything the best you could. It hurt like hell, but I can’t be mad at you for that.”

Jay doesn’t have to hold himself back from embracing you; you do it for him. Arms wound tightly around his neck, face in the crook of his neck, you quite literally cry on his shoulder. He hadn’t realized how close he himself was to crying until tears start falling freely from his eyes, mouth trembling as they gather at his jaw before dropping down the back of your t-shirt. Between sobs, you say, “I’m sorry. Even if you aren’t angry, I’m so sorry, Jay.”

He has never expected, and to this day doesn’t expect, anything from you, least of all an apology. Yet hearing those words from you heals some of the fissures in his heart, puts the pieces back together like superglue. He doesn’t need or want a repeat of your break-up conversation, and he doubts you do. He doesn’t want to hear how staying together wouldn’t have been a possibility, how you’d both have too much going on, how you were too young to hold each other back, how the distance between France and South Korea was too substantial to dismiss.

He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you closer to him. Closing his eyes and trying not to let your proximity overwhelm him, he strokes your hair, rubs your back, tells you it’s all okay. “Don’t apologize, baby,” he says, the nickname unwittingly slipping from his lips a second time. “We’re here now, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” He feels you nod against his shoulder, but your sobs don’t relent.

Would it be very wrong if Jay said he missed having you like this? Of course, he hates to see you unhappy, but there’s a part of him that has always been endeared by the sight of you crying. If he could, he’d destroy the thing making you so upset in a heartbeat, but it’s him that you go to for comfort, and he can’t help but selfishly rejoice in that. It’s in his arms that you find what it is you need to get over what’s troubling you; under his touch that you slowly calm down.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stay like this, nor does he care, but at some point, you lean back and take a deep, stabilising breath. Jay feels a page turn when your eyes meet—there might be no way to change the past, but the future is a blank canvas, the blinking line at the start of a computer document, and it’s up to the two of you how you want to write it.

You smile, and so does he. “I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you, too.”

There are more things to be said, but you’re both talked out. You have so much time ahead of you anyway.

[cryingpariah]

I know that we (Usopp Nation) love to discuss the multiple different ways the eventual meeting between Usopp and Yassop could go but today I wanted to discuss how I think the Strawhats would react to Usopp having/wanting/feeling like he needs to meet his father but hesitating for [Insert reason here].

Luffy: Likes Yassop obviously and would be excited to see him again! But our emotionally intelligent king would pick up on Usopp's vibes and just outright ask him what’s wrong. Would respect his decision to go or not go. If it’s a no though, he'd go and break the news but do it much too bluntly (“Yeah, Usopp didn’t want to come!”). Honestly the whole time there he’s unintentionally making Yassop feel like the biggest piece of shit.

Zoro: Pretends to not care/not have an opinion when he in fact has plenty of both. Zoro's just not the kind of person to care about blood connections, not his own anyway, so he'd probably veer on the side of not going but acts neutral. Regardless of Usopp's decision though Zoro is there to make sure he sticks to it, no wussing out! If he says he’s going he’s going, even if he’s got to hide behind Zoro the whole walk there.

Nami: Usopp's BFFL. She’s there to hype him up! No shitty absent father is allowed to make him feel like shit! She’s helping him get ready, picking a killer outfit and hairstyle for him, everyone knows looking good is the best social armour! If he decides not to go she’s still dressing up him but this time to go and paint the town red! If he does want to go she’s heading there right alongside him! Even if it looks like she’s engaged with something else best believe she’s keeping a hawk eye on Usopp.

Sanji: Guy who is so anti biological father. Is staunchly against Usopp going but tries to hide it behind neutrality and fails miserably. Ultimately though having had some emotional catharsis with facing his own father he’ll accept Usopp's decision no matter what. Absolutely tags along and brings a dish because he was raised a proper chef. (“Oh this? It’s Usopp’s favourite. Not that you had any way of knowing.” *faux polite customer service smile*)

Chopper: Little fella is CONFLICTED. On one hand he’s literally only heard good things about Yassop from both Usopp and Luffy so obviously this guy must be great! But if that was true why did Ussop look so..scared? He decides to approach this from a doctor perspective first by sitting Ussop for a checkup and letting him ramble all his thoughts out. If Usopp decides not to go Chopper's making an official announcement that Usopp's got ‘can’t-leave-the-boat-disease and has to stay for his own good.

Robin: Notices Usopp's discomfort immediately and whisks him away. Sits him down with a cup of her secret stash of soothing tea and lays down all the facts for him. Yes, he has no obligation to go see his father just cause he’s here. No it doesn’t make him a bad person if he doesn’t want to. Despite how wildly different they are, she’s the best at understanding his feelings right now and all that come with it. If he decides to not go, she’ll go in his stead to explain (and also to make sure Yassop doesn’t try to go himself).

Franky: He’s about as emotional as you’d expect. He’d probably be encouraging Usopp to go, not for his dad but for himself. His dreams of being a ‘proper man’ and ‘brave warrior of the sea’ means he shouldn’t live or die with regrets or what ifs. Regardless of Usopp's decision, Franky just wants to make he won’t regret for one reason or another. Will tag along and hype up Ussop to anyone and everyone.

Brook: Like Robin he’s taking Usopp somewhere else to calm down and think. He’s also playing him some soft violin to relax to. They don’t talk much, just let the music guide them for a bit. In a moment of violin driven vulnerability, Brook would tell Usopp that regardless of what does or does not happen, he has a place and a family right here, and that won’t ever change. Places neutral but would prefer if Usopp stayed and didn’t risk getting hurt.

Jinbei: Probably knows Yassop on a semi-causal level and therefore knew of Usopp long before FMI. Was really stunned upon hearing this would be Usopp's first proper meeting with his father. Jinbei's got plenty of sage of advice and can wash away Usopp's parental insecurities by reminding him of who he is and how any man worth a damn would be proud to call him his son. Stays behind if Usopp goes but only because he’s worried of overstepping if he does.

BONUS! (Argue with your mama, your daddy and your congressman Vivi will be the final Strawhat!!)

Vivi ft Karoo: They’re absolutely gobsmacked. Vivi's the one that brings out some latent anger Usopp doesn’t even realize he’s been holding in. I can definitely see Vivi wanting to go even if Usopp's not, she’s very confrontational after all but she defect to what Usopp wants ultimately. If he does want to go she’s right there with him and is totally throwing some shade Yassop's way. Karoo is there as a supportive friend and a quick exit strategy if Usopp needs it.

[adhdtsukasa]

as a firm transmasc tsukasa truther. i like to believe that his first transmasc awakening was seiichi amami and his second transmasc awakening was kaito but he was completely oblivious that it was, in fact, trans awakening until last year of middle school

tsukasa age 7, staring at seiichi amami's performance: wow he's so cool i wish i was just like him :) (because i want to be a star and make saki smile, obviously)

tsukasa age 9, after kaito v3 has released: wow he's so cool i wish i was just like him :) (because he's my favorite vocaloid and a big inspiration for me, obviously)

tsukasa age 14 after he got hit by the realization that "i wish i was just like him" is actually on a bit more personal level:

[idlerin]

love sick — 06. passion is a passing thing

romance 101; guideline #9 — show interest in their hobbies and involve yourself in the things they love.

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

there were two instances where [name] managed to successfully get away from terushima, first was with semi (the fight he mentioned) and the second was with atsumu where he acted like he was “interested” and “guarding” [name].

[name] finds it hard to say no to anyone.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — filler chapter sorry jexhwjd not much suna content ! also is this the right time to say im a terushima hater…

taglist is OPEN ! + (1/2) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

if i can not tag you, please change your mention settings to “everyone” thank you!

[xuzuul]

Finally making an intro post! It's just gonna be a compilation of all the basic stuff for my blog.

Lots of information below the cut, including Blog Information, Interactions, DNIs, and Post Details.

Blog Information

This blog was just Yokai Watch, I didn't post anything unrelated to Yokai Watch or its characters. But now I've turned my attention to other fandoms too as of then, so I'll be posting other stuff too. ♡

If I don't answer your asks, it's because I either don't know how to respond, or I planned to respond to it but forgot. 😔

Fandoms

Fandoms I will actively be posting in:

• Yokai Watch

•Alice In Borderland

• All Of Us Are Dead

•Squid Games

Fandoms I'm in but probably won't be posting for:

• Mouthwashing

•Subnautica

•LOZPH

•Ni No Kuni

•UTDR

•Omori

•Oneshot

•TLOU

Favourite characters

I never shut up about my blorbos and everyone on my blog has to suffer the consequences

•Chishiya Shuntaro

•Kang Sae-Byeok

•Kuina Hikari

•Eddie Archer

•Nate Adams

• Cho Hyun-Ju

•Choi Nam-Ra

•Park Mi-Jin

Ships

Ships I like/support:

Kuina x Ann

Arisu x Usagi

Niragi x Jail

Chishiya x Nobody

Aguni x Hatter

Nate x Katie

Nate x Buck

Eddie x Hailey

Hailey x Jessica

Hyun-Ju x Young-Mi

Sae-Byeok x Ji-Yeong

Mi-Jin x Ha-Ri

Nam-Ra x Su-Hyeok

Cheong-San x On-Jo

Ships I don't like/don't support:

Niragi x Anybody

Chishiya x Anybody

Aguni x Heiya

Heiya x Arisu

Chota x Shibuki

Jibanyan x Whisper

Any human x Any Yokai

Animal Yokai x Humanoid Yokai

Interactions

My DMs are always open to people who wanna talk, but I WILL ignore scams or bots.

If you wanna be my friend or wanna talk to me please just DM me, I love making friends :]

If you follow me and you're a fan of my special interest(s) who posts/reblogs cool stuff I'll probably follow you back/moot you!

I also love seeing your comments/detailed reblogs (eg. Tags or additions) it gets me kicking my feet and giggling,,

DNIs and Intolerated Behaviour

Basic DNI stuff (Because it's wrong)-

Sexism, racism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, or any sort of bigotry or discrimination of any kind will not be tolerated here.

Personal DNI stuff (Things I don't want to see from accounts in my notes or on my dash):

-Accounts that post harmful stereotypes and prejudice, of any kind. This definitely includes radfems, terfs, trans androphobia/misogyny, and misgendering feminine men (promoting toxic masculinity)

-Niragi glazers. This does NOT include people who like the actor, Dori, or people who like Niragi's addition to the story/the way his character is written. But saying Niragi is hot? Excusing his actions? Nuh uh please no.

-Proshippers (This can include non-human x human). Some Yokai Watch examples I can think of are Katie x Kyubi, Nate x Blizarria/Damona, Komasan x Komajiro, etc.. Just an ick.

-People who post art of/headcanon the Yokai Watch trans mtf Nate Adams headcanon. It makes me uncomfortable and I don't want it being forced on me anymore, if you like it then fair enough but if you draw it or actively talk about it then DNI.

-People who post, draw, or write NSFW content, this includes hardcore gore or sexual themes, I feel uncomfortable seeing that (especially Yokai Watch NSFW, it's a kids show).

What I post...

I have a really messy post schedule, it's never linear or straightforward, I just post when I feel like it or when I get an idea.

My most posted stuff includes memes, art, and general sillyposting. I don't reblog stuff that often, but when I see cool art or a post I really like/agree with I will definitely reblog it, especially if it's a moot's post :]

[fanfics4all]

Leap of Faith

Request: Yes / No

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Ried x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 727

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve’s death

Y/N: Your Name 

A/N: I'm thinking of doing a part 2, let me know if you guys would want one

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Spencer’s POV*

The bullpen was quieter than usual, the hum of computers and soft murmurs of conversations filled the void. I sat at my desk, staring blankly at the file in front of me. My mind was elsewhere… on her. The way she smiled when she solved a puzzle, the way she listened with unwavering focus, and the way her laugh made my chest feel lighter, even on the heaviest of days. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not after Maeve. I closed that part of myself off and locked it away to protect what was left. Yet here I was, feeling things I promised myself I never would again. 

Morgan dropped into the chair beside me, his sharp eyes noticing the faraway look on my face. 

“What’s going on with you, Pretty Boy? You’ve been staring at that file for ten minutes, and I know your brain worlds faster than that.” I blinked, startled out of my thoughts. I hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one else was listening. 

“Nothing.” I said quickly, too quickly. Morgan raised a brow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Come on, man, don’t insult me. I’ve known you too long for that. What’s really going on?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and rubbing a hand over my face. 

“I think I’m in trouble.” I admitted softly. 

“Trouble? Like BAU-level trouble or… woman trouble?” He asked, his grin widening. I groaned. 

“It’s not funny, Derek.” 

“Alright, alright.” Morgan said, holding up his hands. 

“Talk to me, who’s got you all tied up in knots?” For a moment, I didn’t answer, but then I glanced toward the desk a few rows away. She wasn’t there right now, probably in Garcia’s office or getting coffee, but just thinking about her made my chest tighten. Morgan followed my gaze and his eyebrows shot up. 

“Oh, now I get it.” I looked away, my face flushing. 

“It’s not like that…” I mumbled, even though it absolutely was. 

“Reid…” Morgan said, his tone softening. 

“Why is this a bad thing? Y/N’s great. You like her, she obviously likes you-” 

“She doesn’t.” I interrupted quickly. 

“And even if she did, it doesn’t matter.” Morgan frowned. 

“Why doesn’t it matter?” I hesitated, my hands fidgeting with the edge of the file. 

“I don’t want to love her…” I finally said, my voice low and filled with pain. 

“I don’t like what that means for me.” He leaned forward, his gaze steady and understanding. 

“What do you think it means?” 

“It means I have something to lose again…” I said, my voice cracking slightly. 

“...and I’m not strong enough for that anymore.” Morgan nodded slowly, letting the words hand in the air for a moment. 

“I get it, I really do. After what happened with Maeve, it makes sense that you’d feel this way. But Reid, you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been through hell and back, and you’re still standing. That’s not weakness, man. That’s strength.” I shook my head. 

“It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like…like I’m setting myself up for more pain.” 

“Or…” He countered. 

“...you’re setting yourself up for something amazing. Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. Love never is, but you can’t let fear stop you from living your life. Maeve wouldn’t want that for you, and deep down, you don’t want that for yourself either.” I looked down at my hands, mind racing. I wanted to believe Morgan was right, but the fear still loomed large, casting a shadow over everything. 

“You’ve already survived the worst kind of loss, Reid.” Morgan said gently. 

“You know how strong you are because you’ve been there. Don’t let that fear keep you from the good stuff. She’s not Maeve and this isn’t the past. Give yourself permission to try.” I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. I thought about her smile and the way she lit up a room without even trying. Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe it was time to stop letting fear dictate my life. 

“Thanks, Morgan.” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. He grinned, clapping me on the shoulder. 

“That’s what I’m here for, Pretty Boy. Now go get her.” I couldn’t help but smile, a small flicker of hope igniting in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a leap.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @reidssmile @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @mggstyles @satans-0-spawn @emofairygay @thesoftestwarlock @liz-owl 

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty Four / The Final Chapter

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

a/n: so. here we are - final chapter! i really hope i’ve done this ending justice. even got a bit emosh myself. i'd just like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone that has supported this fic, whether that be reading, interacting, sharing, anything. it's been a pleasure to post this story for you ♡ now... onto my next series idea!!

warnings: nothing really, just a tad bit emotional

wc: 2944

masterlist

taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all

The Seventh Years Graduation

As from a dream, Draco woke with an air of blissfulness. His first morning with the girl he loved was cut short, a few messy kisses and promises of tomorrow before he was faced with the dark gates of his home once more. He was ready, more now than ever, to face the music that was his parents and their wishes for his pureblood marriage.

After leaving them in a whirl of confusion the night before, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly dreading the look on his mother's face once he sees her again. Draco could hear her now, scolding him for allowing his family to be shamed yet again, could picture the disapproving look his father would give him from the corner of his eye. He swallows thickly, but with the courage you had planted in him, he entered the foyer to be greeted with absolute silence. It wasn't as if being greeted by an empty home was unusual, it was just that at this moment, the silence was practically deafening.

He hesitated in calling out, but figured it would be worse if they knew he'd come home and not seeked them out first thing after yesterday's fiasco. "Mother? Father?" He called, only to be met with the slight echo of his voice in the quietness. Not even the house elf seemed to respond, and so, he wandered, cautiously, through to the drawing room they would usually reside in. When he entered, it appeared as if someone was there, a pot of tea and half drunk cup on the coffee table and the Daily Prophet sprawled out beside it.

"Hello?" He calls again, coming to a halt before the paper. The headline read "A Joyous Occasion: Returning Students to Graduate", and a rather lengthy article where Headmistress McGonagall had stated how 'utterly elated' she was for the returning seventh years after such a 'stressful and sorrowful time.' Draco flicks through a few more pages, various columns advertising products and, of course, Skeeter's addition. He huffs at her attempts, as the doorway suddenly darkens behind him.

"Draco." Lucius's voice comes at a shock against the silence of the room, Draco spinning on the spot to see his father, who, upon inspection, looked tireder than ever, "you have returned, I see."

"Father," Draco clears his throat, "is mother around?"

"I'm afraid she is not," Lucius said, gracefully crossing the room in an expensive looking gown, "She is collecting her dress for the graduation."

"Ah. Right." Draco breathes, questioning how his mother has simply continued with her graduation preparations.

With a flick of his wand, Lucius summons another tea cup, and steam begins to rise from the teapot. "Sit," he instructs his son, "there is something I wish to tell you."

Draco does as he's told, already aware that his actions had perhaps caused his mother to have a breakdown and leave his father looking like sleep had escaped him for at least a month. Lucius pours two fresh cups, and sips at the warm brew with a little satisfied hum. Draco, as if a guest in his own home, follows suit, sitting uncomfortably on the end of the couch.

"Not long after your mother and I graduated," Lucius begins, "there was an awful lot of talk about the Dark Lord and his success in becoming immortal. It was getting more and more apparent that this man was gaining an insurmountable amount of power."

Draco remained silent as his father took a pause.

"I, young and influenced, believed that following this Dark Lord was the right and just thing to do. My family held the same beliefs, as did your mother's. Swearing allegiance to him, in my inexperienced mind, made utter sense. The things I was doing... made sense. But what I've come to realise, in my doing so, I have caused undeniable pain to those dearest to me." Lucius stops, and looks Draco in the eyes, "and to you, most of all, it would seem."

"Father, I-"

"I often wondered what you may do now that the war was over and Voldemort is dead. I had pictured you following the same beliefs, marrying a pureblood and having children. Perhaps I was naive to think that those events hadn't changed you... that those around you hadn't changed you." Lucius said, ignoring Dracos interception. He could see a slight sheen over his father's eyes for the first time in his life, "what's her name, Draco?"

"Huh?" Draco sounds, a little dumbfounded, "oh, you mean Y/N? I-it's Y/N Y/L/N."

"Half blood?" Lucius asks, sipping his tea as Draco swallows another lump in this throat.

"Yeah," he nods, looking down at his cup, "her father is a muggle."

"I see." Lucius says simply, placing down his cup and saucer, "and do you love her?"

Draco almost chokes. Never did he think his father would ask him such a question, but here he was, looking at him with all seriousness. Even so, Draco's answer is strong and quick.

"Yes," he said without a beat, "more than anything."

Lucius nods yet again and rises.

"Then there is no more to be said," he announced, clearing the table with another flick of his wand, "we shall have to meet after the graduation. Perhaps over dinner."

As his father begins to leave, Draco stands from the couch, gaining his father’s attention. Confusion and elation courses through his veins.

"Is that it?" Draco challenges softly, "you're not going to scold me? Shout at me?"

"Would you still pursue this girl if I did?" Lucius asks calmly, "would you listen if I forbid you from seeing her? Even if I locked you in the highest room of this house, you would find a way to her, would you not?"

"Do I need to answer that?" Draco raises an eyebrow, and his father chuckles. The sound of it was so foreign to Draco's ears.

"Then I rest my case," Lucius holds his hands up, "your mother and I have spoken at great lengths, Draco. Your disappearance last night proved one thing - we have no right to hold you down any longer. I dare say, if someone had kept me from your mother, I may have gone insane."

"I love her," Draco finds himself saying, "and I'm going to marry her, father. No one else."

Lucius is quiet for a long moment, before cracking a slight smile.

"You seem to have found yourself," he says as he walks towards the door, and his small smile disappears from his face, "perhaps we were too blind to notice the young man before us."

Banners, flags and all manner of decorations were adorning Hogwarts the morning of the graduation ceremony. Families from all over the county had congregated to join in with the celebrations, and the grounds were practically teeming with people.

Draco had owled to request you meet him before the ceremony began, to tell you about his meeting with Lucius. It was safe to say you were surprised to hear a more positive story, since he'd ran away and left his parents and the Greengrass's in the lurch. But Draco had reassured you that his father is a serious man - he wouldn't have said those things if he didn't mean them, and especially if his mother disagreed. "I haven't seen her but," he began, looking dashing in his robes of emerald green, "something tells me father spoke for the both of them."

Outside in the courtyard, students were to be seated in their houses, with families and friends seated behind. Important individuals within the wizarding community as well as representatives from the Ministry were also present. The Daily Prophet had photographers and journalists out, capturing the eventual graduation of the returning seventh years. As the moment approached, students began walking in their respective houses to their seats, you amongst the Ravenclaws clad in striking blue robes. From the corner of your eye, you spot the emerald green of the Slytherins walking in the same direction across the entrance hall, one particular student catching your eye as she elegantly drifted across the space, brown hair cascading down her back and heels clicking along the tiled floor.

As if carried by your feet before you could think, you made a beeline across the space.

"Astoria," you call out, and the girl stops at the sound of her name, head snapping in the direction of your voice, "can I speak to you a moment?"

"Y/N," she blinks, "can I... help you?"

For a moment you weren't sure what to say. Do you thank her for letting Draco follow his heart? Do you apologise that her marriage didn't go to plan, and that she has faced just as much heartache as you in all of this? Or do you simply wish her well? Many things flitted through your mind in that moment, but one thing was abundantly clear. Despite everything that had transpired, there didn't seem to be even a glint of disdain in her eyes.

"Well, I just-"

"If it's about Draco, you should know he made his own decision," she cuts you off, smiling at the small crowd of Slytherins entering the courtyard, Draco surely among them, "I simply realised I was an accomplice in his misery. The rest was his own heart telling him what to do."

"From my understanding, you were pivotal in Draco finding his strength," you said kindly, Astoria's pretty eyes looking at you as if she was sure Draco wouldn't ever mention her name again, "and for that, I'm forever thankful, Astoria. As well as deeply sorry for the mess I caused."

She shakes her head with a smile on her face. A light chuckle escaped her lips.

"Love isn't a crime, Y/N," she says softly, "for too long, I've lived in my parent’s shadow, following their ideals and wishes. If anything, Draco, and you, have taught me a lot about thinking with your own mind. It's true I would've married happily," she pauses briefly, "but it's a long time to be miserable, don't you think? Draco deserves better than that."

You go to speak, but nothing comes out. Words fail you in this moment, and Astoria takes your hand as the band outside begin to play the entrance music for the graduating students.

"There is no need for more words," she said, and you hold her hand back tightly, "all I ask is that you take care of him. Merlin knows he needs it. Now, what do you say we walk out together, hm? As a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, for the last time."

Arm in arm, you emerge from the large doors and into the courtyard, following the groups of other students. The two of you split ways once arriving at your designated spots, and part with a smile. You find your place beside Luna, and settle in, a buzz of excitement and fresh, new beginnings in the air. Headmistress McGonagall rises to the lectern, as students, staff and guests all stand. A round of applause is made, and the ever elegant professor quieted the crowd with a gentle wave of a hand, urging everyone back into their seats.

"Thank you," she begins, her voice magically amplified, "It is my greatest pleasure, as Headmistress of our school, to see such wonderfully gifted pupils embark on their next chapter, not only as high achieving students, but as young men and women." She scans the crowd, and with a wipe of her handkerchief under both eyes, continues, "and most of all, it is an honour to send off those returning seventh years whose final year at Hogwarts was tainted by sorrow and loss, into greener and brighter pastures, as free witches and wizards. The world is indeed your oyster, and I expect great things from each and every one of you."

Professor Flitwick hurries along the stage, wand levitating a large pile of scrolls, each tied with a coloured ribbon of the students respective house, closely followed by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Now," McGonagall announces, "as we call your name, house by house, please rise to collect your graduation certificate, prestigiously presented by our good Minister, Mr Shacklebolt."

Students from each house proudly took the stage and their graduation certificates, shaking hands with the Minister and posing for a photograph. Gryffindor first, then Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and eventually, Ravenclaw. As your name is called, with slight jelly legs and a nervous but exciting feeling in your stomach, you walk the aisle to the stage, passing the other houses. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt hands a scroll to you, blue ribbon tied in the centre in a neat and perfect bow, and then shakes your hand in a firm but gentle way.

"Congratulations," he says quietly to you, as the camera takes a photograph your parents are no doubt planning on placing above the fireplace. You take the chance to look out over your fellow students and families, noticing your mother waving at you from the back rows. A small wave back and she's taking her own photos, and even from the stage you could see your father urging her to sit down so the others behind could see. Then, your eyes fall on the rows of emerald green, to a kind face, with white hair shining in the sun, and a smile that makes your knees a little weak.

He winks, and you can't help but feel flustered in front of the hundreds of faces looking up at you blushing like a schoolgirl. 

"Thank you," you mutter to the Minister, and share a smile with the Headmistress as you head back to your seat. After a few words from Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt about courage, strength and the 'formidable force that is the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry', one final round of applause, and the chance to mingle begins. Your parents, mother crying and father trying to hide his emotion, are the first to find you. They chat with your professors, even the Minister, and mingle with other parents they know. Students you've known say their goodbyes and well wishes, as a little tap on your shoulder gains your attention.

"So, we've done it." Hermione says, clearly overtaken with emotion, "We've actually done it."

The two of you embrace, squealing with happiness. You hug one another tightly, evoking some tears in the process. It's been a long journey, but you've made it. From the war to your own trials and tribulations, you were both still standing. Together.

"I couldn't have made it through this year without you, 'Mione," you mumble through your tears, and you hear her giggle through hers, "I love you so much. Thank you. For everything."

She pulls back, resting her hands on your shoulders as she looks at you with adoration.

"You must stay in touch," she chokes up mid sentence, "promise me? Don't be stranger, for Merlin's sake. Tell Malfoy the same." You nod vigorously, "I love you too," she says sincerely, and then her eyes are fixed on someone behind you, "speak of the devil."

You turn on your heel to see Draco, handsome as ever in the green that so belongs on him, sheepishly waiting for you to notice his presence. Turning back to Hermione, she insists you go to him, and with one last hug, you cross the space between you. His smile grows wider the closer you get, and as soon as you're in touching distance, he takes your hand and presses a delicate kiss to your knuckles.

"You know," he begins, voice like silk, "blue really is your colour, my love."

A delightful chuckle escapes your lips, and within the next second, his other hand is cupping your jaw and bringing you in for a passionate kiss. He doesn't seem to care that hundreds of students and families surround you, including his own. All he cares about is this moment, and this declaration of his love for you. As you part, he remains close, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"I love you, darling," he whispers to you, only for you to hear, and wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

"I love you, Draco." Your voice is barely audible, but he catches it, and a toothy grin spreads across his face.

"Well then?" he then extends his arm to you, "it's time for the boats, my lady.”

With your arm laced in his, family and friends watching from the courtyard archways, the seventh years descend the stairs to the boat house for the last time, reminiscing about the first time they wandered up those same stairs to the sorting ceremony. Not many words are exchanged between you; emotions are high and his touch is enough, but as you collect on the docks of the boat house, Hermione comes to stand beside you. You take her hand, and the three of you look up towards the castle that's been your second home for eight years now. 

"Shall we?" you look between them both, and you share a silent agreement, stepping onto the boat together, symbolising the start of a new beginning, and the end of an era. As the boat is pushed from the shore, your hands are still intertwined, and your arm is still tightly around Draco's arm. If you had pictured your last trip across the Black Lake like this, you would've thought some very strange twist of fate was at play; in fact, it must be. Taking one last look back at the castle that becomes smaller and smaller the further away you get, you think how you've found many things during your time as a Ravenclaw. Friendships, courage, knowledge, and even love. Isn't it funny, you think to yourself. How life plays out, how the universe works.

How true happiness can be found…

In the strangest of places.

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

tags: @lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @anarchistsons @newbooksmell777 @tangomangroves @neoteezrenyoung @l0v3lies @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @higanbanagirl @ace152435 @arcanebabe @slythermuf @hea-vin @zucchinimalfoy @carolineesnell

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | VI

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, Terrible Sibling Dynamics, Fluff tags to be added

Special warnings | Violence against women, Incel-like behavior, descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Notes | I have put up a poll to get readers feel for a certain story direction, please give it a quick vote! Poll here

Prologue | Chapter V | | Chapter VII Masterlist

Chapter VI | Love Thy Sister

“What do you think of her?” Alicent asks her son, looking up at him from her cushioned seat. Alicent hoped by telling Aemond to take the girl for a walk she’d feel welcome enough for the time being. Even though she is legitimized as a Targaryen, she can leave at any time. If she does not feel welcome, she may take herself and her titles back to Volantis. Back to the whore house her mother is from and disgrace the Targaryen name just as her mother did, and the blame would be put on Alicent.

“I suppose she is a good conversationalist… as beautiful as they say her mother is.” Aemond looks down at her, he rubs his hand along his jaw. Aemond knows his duty that was forced upon him, Alicent does not doubt this. 

However, she has influenced him to have a greater distaste for bastards. Of course, she doesn’t expect nor want Aemond to put his biases to the side, but for the safety of the Targaryen name he must learn to push it down for her.

“Continue to keep her happy, if you wander-“ 

“I am not Aegon if that’s what you are implying.” Aemond interrupts her with one of his quips. Alicent rubs her temples with a sigh, in her mind she knows Aemond would never do such a thing, but you can never be fully sure with young men. Aemond places his hand on Alicents shoulder, bringing her out of thought and she looks back up at her son.

“She knows what she is and I can deal with that.”

—————

The sun has sunk below the horizon and you stand with your hands gripping the stone of your balcony. The light breeze pushes your loose hair to the side, tickling your cheeks. 

The past 5 days have been repeating each other, waking up, fitting into tight clothes that you still can’t get used to, breaking your fast alone, taking brisk walks through the gardens; you’ve taken to needlework to fill up your time, still not good at it. Ending your days eating dinner with Vaegon, he insists on sitting next to you instead of on the other side of the table, you’ve gotten tired of telling him otherwise. 

Your only real interactions have been with Aegon, he manages to find you in the gardens every day. It has become routine at this point. Small conversations where he stands a little too close and rests his hand on your lower back. Your brother was fuming behind the two of you, but alas there was nothing he could do. 

Perhaps Aegon simply got a kick out of your brother's reaction; in that case, you don’t mind at all. 

Aemond hadn't bothered to even acknowledge your existence. You haven't seen him, heard him, smelled him, tasted him, touched him. All your senses are absent of him! 

Your head had been so full of ideal situations, that you didn’t consider living an isolated life in a foreign land! You had to push down girlish thoughts and take charge for yourself!

“Are you done with your childish games sister?” 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by Vaegon resting his armor-covered hands on the back of your shoulders. You tensed up at the contact, your stomach instantly became uneasy. 

“Your fantasies didn’t work out. No prince to whisk you off your feet as we pretended when we were children. Only a maimed icy boy who doesn’t love you.” He begins to gently massage your shoulders. Disgust rises on your face with your fists so tight your nails may draw blood.

“And you do?” You do not turn to look at him, simply at the night sky.

“More than that freak could.” He laughs resting his chin on your shoulders and moves his hands to caress your arms. This pushed you far over the line. You turned around and pushed him back with full force, it didn’t do much but push him a foot back. Frustrated at this failed attempt you slap him making sure to claw his skin with your nails. 

You hadn’t meant to dig that deep. Vaegons scream was in true carnal pain, he held his cheek with blood flowing from between his fingers. You had scarred him from cheekbone to chin. You looked down to your hand and you could see the skin you tore off beneath your nails. You looked back at him in shock, your mouth went dry as you couldn’t think of any words to say. 

“You fucking cunt!”

You saw your brother's eyes turn from purple to black as he ran to grip your neck with both hands, knocking the wind out of you. He was crushing your throat and his hand armor was cutting deeply. 

“Va-vaegon plea-“ you begin to claw at his hands as you choke out words. 

“I will not come second to some pompous cunt! I have worked all my life to prove myself worthy of you! Yet you whore yourself out to the first cock that fills your self serving cunt.” He shook you around with gritted teeth, not seeming to care about the sting and blood from his cheek. “You stand there and mock me in the gardens and let that whore of a Prince touch you, am I the only one you won’t fuck?!”

Black spots started to form in your vision, he was trying to strangle you to death, and you could see it in his eyes. 

You whisper something weakly enough that he cannot make out. He leans in hopes of hearing words of submission to feed his sick fantasies.

You gargle up the saliva that you cannot swallow and spit directly into his ear. He instantly jumps back and pushes you away. He falls on his ass getting away from you. You erupt in laughter even when your spine makes contact with the stone balcony you laugh through the pain.

Vaegon is at a loss for words, tears start to form and threaten to fall down his face. Humiliation is all over his face, you have permanently scarred his face. Maimed him as he laughed at Aemond for being. This scar was not gained honorably, not in a battle, not because he was punished, not from protecting a damsel in distress. He gained nothing from it.

He let a woman, his sister, swipe him so brutally. It made him even less of a man in the eyes of everyone. 

No mother to comfort him, not even a whore to console him, the only person he had was his sister who was looking down on him.

Laughing at him. 

Your laughter died down, small giggles escaping your lips still. The lack of air to your head and raw adrenaline diluted the pain you should be feeling at the moment. You walked over to your brother, looking down at him as he looked down at you moments ago with his hands on your throat.

“I am greater than you now brother, you are still a bastard. I could have you hung and spiked on the walls. However, it breaks my heart to see you like this.” You say softly with a joking tone. Vaegon continues looking up at you with a rage behind his eyes.

“If it would serve as compensation. You can have the privilege of standing guard at mine and Prince Aemonds marital chambers on our wedding night. As a parting gift.” 

Vaegon instantly stands on his feet and scoffs with a baffled expression. Suddenly, the weight of his crimes against a noble hit him hard, and he rushed out of the room to escape to who knows where.

You stood there for a few moments, absorbing your grand victory. You didn’t care where he ran, who he ran to, what he was going to do after running. Your breath was heavy and your lungs began to feel like they were struggling to take air in.

Just as your adrenaline calmed down it rose back up with anxiety. You rushed over to your mirror and looked at your neck to see bruises already forming and where his armor had cut your neck. How could you explain this? Someone will see your bruises and see Vaegons cheek and put it together. 

You hadn’t noticed the tears running down your face until you looked in the mirror, you looked in disarray. 

The pain started to shock through your body, finally registering the violence Vaegon put onto you.

Your throat felt like it was closing up, the pressure from your corset made the rising bruise on your lower back hurt so badly you feared you might empty your stomach on the floor. 

You saw the blood trail on the floor and your eyes moved over to the balcony and there was a small pool of blood in plain sight. You looked around your chambers for anything to clean it up. You froze by the sound of knocking at your door followed by your door opening. 

You hear the sound of crashing and liquid splashing on the floor. Someone rushed to your side who you recognized to be Mela. She knelt by your sitting form and held your arms gently. 

“Princess! What happened?! Who hurt you?!” Mela attempted to talk calmly but the urgency of the moment raised her tone. 

You don’t know what happened, all of a sudden everything came crashing down onto you. You were crying so hard you couldn’t form any words, your throat and neck hurt even worse with all your heavy breathing. Stuttering out incoherent and unfinished sentences with hand gestures that meant nothing. 

Mela stood and held you close to your chest like a mother would, and you held onto her arms and cried. She yelled something at Ellyn and the girl rushed out of the room, the door left wide open potentially for anyone to see. The pain of being manhandled by Vaegon started seeping in and all of a sudden your whole body started hurting, you couldn’t tell where it was coming from; you only knew it hurt. 

“Shhhh, Let me see Princess.”

Mela lifted your chin and gasped at the state of your neck. She lightly touched one of the fresh bruises, even the lightest touch made you whimper and flinch away. You couldn’t breathe without pain shocking through your body which made you cry more so tears never stopped streaming down your face. 

A barrage of footsteps approaches the open door to see Mela holding your sobbing body. Immediately a maester is by your side, gently pushing Mela away to see your injuries. You close your eyes to think the pain away, and a few gasps follow when your neck becomes exposed. 

“Gods be good, who did this Princess?” The Maester touched around your neck to examine the damage. You couldn’t think, the feeling of eyes on you, the pain in your neck, the pain in your lower back tightened by a corset.

You claw at the back of your dress just wanting to tear it off. Mela stops your hands to pull you onto your feet, your groans of pain don’t stop her at all. Ellyn moves behind you to loosen the layers of your dress. You let out a deep sigh of relief when your corset is removed and your body almost fully collapses into Mela.

Your lower back is revealed with the removal of the corset and you hear gasps of sympathy from the other maids in the room. Mela has you against her in a way that your breasts aren’t revealed to keep some form of modesty, even if it’s just maids and a maester.

“Gods… what has happened here?!” Alicents voice sounded through the room, her voice painted with concern. 

“I’m not sure my Queen, she’s in too much pain. She won't speak.” The Maester said without turning to Alicent still looking around at the newly discovered bruise. The Maester leaves the room to hopefully get some kind of ointment or cream to soothe you.

You looked up at Alicent and she looked down at you, biting at the skin of her thumb. 

The small part of you that isn’t in pain feels humiliated, this was your triumphant moment over your brother. But here you are, crying so hard you can’t speak, naked from the waist up, multiple people gawking at your injured limp body. You can barely even listen to the people around you, blood is pumping through your ears. 

A nightgown comes over your head and you move your arms slowly to fill the armholes. By the feeling of the fabric you can tell it’s not one from Westeros, it’s one of your own from Volantis. With these, your back could remain open instead of being rubbed with cloth. You watch Alicent move her hand to caress your hair gently, looking at you with an expression you can’t make out. Sympathy? Pity?

Alicent leans down and murmurs something to you.

“Was this Aemond?”

You shake your head no and the queen lets out a sigh of relief and does one wipe of your cheek with her thumb. You made an earnest attempt to squeeze out any sound through your tightening throat.

“Vaegon-“ you pointed to the blood near the balcony, the hand you pointed with still had his blood and skin on your fingers. 

“Where is her brother? Find him!” Alicents voice rises to yell at the guards nearby. She leaves the room with haste to go off to who knows where. 

You are guided onto a couch deeper into your chambers to allow room for a maid with water and cloth to gently dab your neck. You try your best to contain your whimpers to not humiliate yourself further. Another maid grabs your hand with a wet cloth and cleans the hand you scarred Vaegon with.

After some time the Maester reentered the room with a jar of some kind of ointment. You hope the cream provides some instant comfort, anything to relieve your aches. Tears still streaked down your face, the pain still ever persistent, but you held your whimpers down still.

“Alright Princess, I’ve retrieved an ointment made of arnica. It should help with the aches and inflammation.” The Maester hands the ointment to Ellyn, she quickly replaces the maid behind you. You move your hair away to expose your neck.

Everyone besides Ellyn begins to make their leave to give you privacy now that their duty is done. You close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief when Ellyn starts to gently rub the bruised area on the back of your neck. However your eyes don’t stay closed for long; as the door opens for everyone to make their leave, a soft ‘My Prince’ in unison makes your eyes instantly open. 

Aemond enters the room with long strides, passing by servants without care. He was wearing his normal black leather, eyepatch, and sword still at his side. Ellyn stopped applying the ointment to stand up, and give a small bow to Aemond with a customary ‘my Prince’. 

“Mm. Give it here.” Aemond holds out his hand to be given the ointment. He scans the room to see the blood has not yet been cleaned up.

“Clean that up and make your leave.” He hums, Ellyn quickly hands him the jar and grabs a cloth. 

“Aemond...” You whisper to not force your voice. You jump at the feeling of Aemonds ungloved fingers applying ointment to the back of your neck. Aemonds touch struggles to be gentle, his hands are roughly textured, and you can tell he hasn’t had to be gentle with much before. 

“I caught him.” He said in a normal tone. You look to the side, your eye area red and cheeks still wet from your never-ending crying. A look of confusion grazed your face under your pained expression. 

“I walk in the gardens at night. I heard him yelling, I saw him push you. I figured he would run.”  Aemonds fingers moved to the side of your neck that was exposed to him.

“Do not take it as much. A bastard boy attacked a…Targaryen. A high crime, it was simply duty.” He talks like he doesn’t care, truly unreadable... Almost like the hardened guards that are on duty in front of the black wall in Volantis, but not quite that extreme.

But here he sits, doing his best to gently rub in ointment into the bruised necklace painted into your skin. You can’t help but give him a slight smile, Aemonds eye flickers up and moves right back down. 

Without being able to speak more than a word or two, you and Aemond sit in silence. Even when he turns you around to get the front of your throat.

You got the opportunity to look at his face closer than you ever had. Your eyes traced his red scar, your sight stopped by his eyepatch but it continued below; on down to his sharp strong nose which huffed out deep breaths occasionally; to his pink lips, straightened in focus. Of course, his most important features to you, his one good eye, a beautiful shade of purple, pointed down looking at your neck and ever so often flicked further down when he needed to get more from the jar. His platinum white hair was tucked behind his ears so he didn’t get any in his face while leaning down.

This wouldn’t last. You knew that. Soon he would remember reality and pull back once again.

“Turn back around, I have to get your back.”

Your view of Aemond is torn away by his hands twirling you back around. He makes a ‘mmm’ sound and rubs the excess on his fingers on the middle of your open back. Leaving you rather confused until he speaks.

“Your lower back is covered by your nightgown. I have to pull it down.”

You jump a little at the idea of being almost fully naked in front of him, even though the sheer fabric of your nightgown left nothing to the imagination and left most of your skin open to the air. It’s the implication of it all.

“Gods, Calm down. I will only be seeing your back, nothing I won’t see soon enough.”

Aemond pulls at the sleeves of your nightgown and slides it down as low as it can go as you are sitting down. Even though he is behind you and can’t see your breasts you feel the need to cover them with your arms, but you resist. 

Aemond starts to apply ointment once again, he presses a little too hard and a gasp gets caught in your throat, and flinch away. Aemond grasps your hips to still you and bring you back.

“I’m sorry. Let me try again.”

You nod and hope that he’s more gentle this time. This bruise was a single large long bruise straight across your lower back so it made it harder to comfortably touch it at all. He was as gentle as he could be, it would hurt regardless. 

You had to make it through the pain yourself. Focusing on making the pain go away in your head. The first thought that came to your head was how intimate this position felt compared to the others. The lower back felt like one of the more intimate locations to touch between two people. Yes, Aegon touches you there occasionally but you only allowed that because you knew Vaegon was looking. 

Aemond doing it felt different. Even if it was just him helping you. His touch brought pain with it but it still somehow got a shiver up your spine that was pleasant in its own way.

He applied the ointment rather quickly, you snapped out of your thoughts when he began to bring your nightgown back up your body and you slipped your arms through the strapped sleeves.

“You should sleep soon, you will heal faster,” Aemond spoke, rubbing your arms from the back. You froze when you felt his breath on the back of where your neck met your shoulder. Your heart starts beating fast as you can almost feel his lips disrupt the peach fuzz on your skin. 

Suddenly seconds later Aemond abruptly pulls away physically and emotionally, just as he did before. He stands and briskly walks to your chamber door, on his way he taps onto a table to put your attention to a goblet and pitcher. 

“Should aid with sleep.” 

You didn’t even get a chance to process anything. You swore you still felt his touch on your skin, it made you shiver. Aemond shut the door all but gently, leaving you alone with yourself. You sighed at the loss of touch and Aemond ran off once again.

You wouldn’t see Aemond for a few days once again.

You pushed yourself up onto your feet with a sharp pain. The ointment helped but it didn’t help with sudden movements. You hobbled over to the table Aemond gestured to. You studied it briefly before pouring the substance into the goblet. It was a cloudy blue color, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You reluctantly took a sip, your body wanted to reject it instantly. It tasted extremely bitter with an undertone of honey. It must’ve been put there for a reason so you at least finish the cup. 

Not being able to drink anymore you blow out the bigger lights in your chambers, leaving the smaller ones still lit. You started to feel drowsy, deciding to commit to lying down. Getting under the covers trying to get comfortable, you decided it was too hot under them and pushed them to the side to only cover part of your body. You found a single position that didn’t put extreme pressure on your bruises and instantly fell to sleep.

—————

🏷️: @toodlesxcuddles @yourwonkywriter @blackgirlmagicforever @knyam

comment or send an ask to be on the tag list!

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 30. 10 things i hate about you

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

the term sakusa is looking for is the proximity principle. i had to whip out my psychology notebook for this one.

atsumu bought the groceries! of course he asked y/n beforehand what she wanted to eat and checked in with osamu for tips/recipes/ingredients. y/n surprised him with the snacks :D

shimizu is always making homecooked meals so y/n doesn't cook often. she just strolls down the hall and into shimizu's condo to have dinner together. that's why she went over to borrow certain cookware ++ her lack of cooking skills.

y/n likes buying cute slippers for her place. she's bought everyone a pair so that they'll be comfortable when they're over. the ugly shrek slippers, the ones that look like the grinch and an alien gave birth to him, were from a white elephant exchange. guess who was the one that bought it (extreme difficulty because it could be all four of them)

cooking - atsumu: 1 y/n: 0

baking - atsumu: 0 y/n: -1

gaming - atsumu: 0 y/n: 1!!!

don't underestimate y/n, she's been trained to be good at all sorts of games. she plays with extremely competitive and sly people (kuroo the shameless cheater, shoyo the "i didn't understand the rules!" kenma the "that was a practice round"), so she has to be extra careful.

shimizu is an angel, she doesn't cheat. however, if y/n asks her to form an alliance, there's a 88% chance she'll say yes.

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: sorry for the long fun facts i love making up silly scenarios !! this was supposed to be a written chapter but i threw that idea out the window (phew) i was gonna say the two of them were listening to daniel caesar while cooking etc. but his songs are too romantic the tension would've been crazy !!!!

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444choso @mylahrins @deimmortales99 @hisfuture @staywhelmed8801 @dl-yum @nessaasstuff @milesmoralesluvs @101tsumu @ryeyeyer @cherrypieyourface @azharyy @mimi3lover @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @dazball @whykirbo @r0seandth0rns @localgaytrainwreck @miyamoratsumuu @zephestia @luvvmae

[kittynugg]

chapter eight of a little dilemma!! woo!! sorry this one took so long

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62289874/chapters/163171300

chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/? (prob gonna change this format bc its starting to get tedious)

words: 5,260

p.s: reblogs appreciated, do not tag as ship!!

“David. David.”

Ford hissed, his eyes burning with frustration.

“If you call me or my little shooting star one more time I will find you. I will track you down and teach you exactly why you don’t mess with my goddamn family. Both of us are not in your age demographic and I am very uncomfortable with the way you’ve been speaking to my niece!”

Dipper and Mabel watched with pursed lips as he picked up the phone to pace, pinning the handset (the.. phone-thing) to his ear with his shoulder. “I’ve tolerated this for fifty-seven turns and two hours, and I will not be tolerating this any longer.”

“I HAVE ROOM IN MY BEACH HOUSE FOR TWO.”

“Of course you’d say that at a time like this! I’m going to find Cutie-Town! And when I turn up to that beach house of yours you’ll wish you didn’t have room for two! Your beach house will end up a crime scene, David!” His eyes darted around the room, then he slammed the phone into the receiver.

The last remaining pair of actual twins exchanged a bewildered glance, and Dipper piped up. “You just argued with maybe ten pre-recorded voice lines.” He inched away from Ford slightly. “I think we’re done playing Calling All Boys.” Pushing himself to his feet he moved to take the telephone from his currently seething uncle, then glanced toward the window but decided against whatever plan popped in his head to dispose of it once and for all.

“Okay, next activity..!” Mabel glanced around the blanket fort, then took a clear box of colorful beads from behind her back. Ford chose not to question just how many activities she had hidden behind her back at any given moment. “Friendship bracelets! The ultimate way to seal a bond forever! Other than.. Maybe blood oaths, but that is not a sanctioned sleepover activity!” She swept an arm to the side, expression stern.

“Not a sanctioned sleepover activity,” Ford parroted under his breath. Nail-painting and friendship bracelets seemed to work, though, so.. Any girly, craft-y activity? 

The unnerving part of it was that he wasn’t surprised at all that he got himself roped into this.

Mabel took his hand again, wrapping a piece of string around his remarkably skinny, stick-like wrist and cutting it while leaving a bit of excess at the end. Likely for tying the knot. When she held out the string for him to take, he clasped his hand around it and watched as Dipper allowed her to measure his own wrist with a little smile.

A six-fingered hand reached for the box of beads and plucked out a couple of transparent red ones. He threaded one onto the string, hesitating before picking out four round letter beads. “FORD”, the bracelet now read, and he capped off the text with the other red bead. 

Six beads.

That’d be a very small bracelet. He grabbed two golden beads and bordered the design with them. Eight! Still not enough. It took a few minutes for him to finish, but by then he had a nice combination of greys, browns, and beiges as well as the red and yellow. 

He glanced at Dipper and Mabel, chatting as they worked on their own bracelets (Dipper went for a blue and white color scheme while Mabel went for pink and rainbow), and shifted away from them to let them have their conversation. Instead of talking to his family members he opted to fumble with the string in an attempt to tie it with one hand. 

Agonizing. Truly agonizing. He figured it’d be easier with an extra finger, but now he figured that he was an idiot for figuring such a thing.

“Oh, I got it!” Chirped Mabel as she leaned over to tie it for him and cut off the excess. Ford thanked her in a murmur and received a warm look as a response. Then she turned back to Dipper, nudging his shoulder. “Need me to do yours, Dippin’ dots?”

Dipper extended his right wrist, the one he had the bracelet wrapped around (and was holding together with his free hand), nodding. Ford was more of a “bracelet on the left wrist” kind of person but he wouldn’t judge.

..Out loud. 

“Thanks,” said his nephew as he adjusted the bracelet so the text would face outward. That made Ford realize his was askew, so he meticulously shifted his until it was perfectly centered. 

Then Mabel’s wrist with her bracelet was shoved into his face. “What do you think, Grunkle Ford? I was going for rainbows but I thiiiiiink I got a little sidetracked.” She poked the bracelet where the rainbows derailed into different shades of pink. Like Ford’s and Dipper’s, the letter beads read her name. “..I’m gonna paint the letters pink.”

Of course she was. Delightful. “That’d look nice,” he muttered, tracing his fingers over the beads of his bracelet, “do you need help?”

“Nope!” Mabel beamed at him as if that didn’t just shoot him in the heart. Instead of reacting he did his best to imitate her cheerful expression and made an affirmative noise.

..Well, he guessed he’d just die then or something. Fine. It wasn’t like he wanted to be helpful or anything. Whoop-dee-doo, he’d have a great time just withering here in this corner.. okay he was absolutely being dramatic. He couldn’t help it! Why didn’t Mabel want his help!? Probably because she could do it herself with relative ease and from another person’s perspective it may just seem like a burden asking him to do something they can do just as well.

But regardless– 

“Hey, I wanna paint mine too,” Dipper mumbled, eyes flicking to the left. “Your hands are steadier than mine.” He shifted to take a bottle of blue nail polish from the selection of colors Mabel had and extended it toward Ford.

Keeping the excitement out of his voice as he snatched the bottle was no use. “I can do that!” He opened the bottle, scrunched his nose at the strong chemical smell, and carefully began brushing on the blue paint. He knew it was out of pity. But.. It still felt nice, like he was wanted. “I don’t think I’m ever going to take mine off.” 

Wait, that ran the risk of damaging or, stars forbid, breaking it! No, he’d only wear it in safe situations. What would he do with himself if it got damaged!? Slink back to Mabel and ask her to fix it!? No!

“Me neither. I mean, Mabel would probably kill me if I did anyway.” Dipper rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand he wasn’t currently trying to keep as still as possible.

Ford understood that, he decided with a cautious glance at Mabel, she absolutely would. He inserted the brush back into the bottle and twisted on the cap. And she looked back at him with this knowing stare. Like it was just a fact.

Then she spoke up, “so, anyway, about Calling All Boys–”

“Nobody wants to talk about Calling All Boys!” Dipper threw out his arms. A look at Ford sought confirmation, but was met with pursed lips and the look of a man in a conundrum.

If he was being frank, he had opinions! Opinions he needed to voice and felt he hadn’t already gotten across the last time David called! So he raised a hand and blatantly said, “David is awful. I hate David and none of them are even objectively dreamy. They all sound unnatural–”

“That’s because they’re text-to-speech.”

“–thank you, Dipper, but they’re just so robotic! How could I love a robot? ..actually, no, that seems like something I would do in some other universe.” He tapped his chin. “Probably only if they pass the Turing test, hm..”

“Really!?” Mabel gawked. “How could anyone possibly not like them ever!? Damien’s a total hunk! And you’ve gotta like William! He’s so your type!”

He shot a dark look at her. "Mabel. If I ever date someone, put glass shards in my Mabel Juice.”

But he wasn’t finished! “And, if I, stars forbid, end up on the arm of a William?” A hand gestured emphatically, then he brought it down in a swift gesture. “Drown me in a river, stick toothpicks in my eyes, remove them entirely and butcher and eat my corpse so I can't come back." He said all of that with a surprisingly unshaking deadpan. 

Because, really, who would date a William? Right, guys? We don’t.. We don’t do the Billford thing here. Don’t @ me on that. 

Mabel stared at him with her jaw dropped and her eyes wide for a moment, then shook her head and gave him a thumbs-up with a forced smile. “You, uh.. You got it, Grunkle Ford! I will totally do that!”

“This is why aliens don’t talk to us,” commented Dipper.

Putting up a finger, Ford supplied, “actually, I’ve asked, it’s because most of us are stupid and frankly animalistic in our.. that’s what you’re saying.” His expression flattened and his shoulders slumped. “That certainly is kind of you.”

“Yeah, man, I know.” He gave this grin that screamed ‘I’m being a little shit on purpose but what are you going to do about it’. Nothing, damnit, the boy had called his bluff that he hadn’t even made.

They all just stared at each other for a moment before Ford raised a finger. “And another thing, aren’t some of those.. Flirtations a little less than appropriate for children of our- your age? You’re.. Well.. little. And impressionable.” With a squint to accentuate it he pinched his fingers together in a small gesture. 

Dipper glanced to the phone, then shrugged. “I mean, didn’t seem too bad to me. You guys had worse stuff when you were kids, I made the mistake of looking into it.” 

Maybe a few of the things they’d chant while jump-roping weren’t appropriate either.. No, no, he doubled down.

“This isn’t Disney, Dipper.”

“That’s–” instead of arguing, Dipper shook his head. “You know what, no. Hey, Mabel, what’s next on the list?” 

Mabel rolled with it as usual. “Movies, duh! You sound like you’ve never had a sleepover!” A raspberry was blown at both of them as she whirled to her feet. “TO THE LIVING ROOM!!”

And to the living room they went.

“More sappy Disney movies?” Asked his nephew as he jumped onto the couch and snatched the remote, sticking his tongue out at Mabel when she pouted at him. “You’d probably like Lilo & Stitch. It’s got that found family element. And the whole supernatural thing going on.”

Supernatural, hm? That was his.. It was his thing really. Basically half of his personality as troubling as that was. He joined Dipper on the couch and flinched when Mabel jumped onto the cushion beside him. “..Well, I have no reason not to trust your judgement after last night’s recommendation..” 

“Ooh, that’s a good idea!” Mabel clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Then we can watch Steven Universe! Grunkle Ford, you’ve heard of Steven Universe, right?”

“..who is Steven and why does he get his own universe?”

This girl gasped. She almost fell off the couch, frantically reaching for the remote in Dipper’s hand. But of course he was having none of it and leaned back to kick at her arm. “Oh my gosh, Dipper! Lilo & Stitch can wait!”

“So can Steven Universe!” He reasoned in a shout. “Give it up!”

“You give it up!”

“No, you!”

“You!”

“You you you a thousand, million times!” Mabel tumbled back with a yelp as Dipper released the remote, then she eyed her prize with a look of pure triumph behind her sparkling eyes. “..no take-backs!” 

Dipper just leaned back with a sigh and crossed arms. “You’re like a gremlin. Or the candy monster.”

Resisting the urge to ask, Ford instead remained silent and watched Mabel navigate to whatever show she wanted them to watch as he pondered what the “candy monster” entailed. A monster made of candy? A monster who eats candy? Both were equally likely. 

What if it was a monster made by candy? Sentient candy? Like some sort of Frankenstein’s monst-

“Okay, so we’re gonna waaaaatch.. One episode first! And then we can watch Lilo & Stitch because I really wanna watch it now and then we can watch more Steven Universe!” Planned Mabel out loud, her eyes darting to Ford. “..If you like it!”

“I have no doubts that I’ll like it, honey.” He reached over to ruffle her hair. “You both have good taste.”

They both gave their respective mutters that the other sibling actually had bad taste, and they settled down to watch.

Lilo & Stitch was good. Very good. But he did not cry a single tear at the ending. Absolutely not.

Steven Universe? It.. certainly built intrigue what with the first episode hitting you with such bizarre abilities as the child, who is named Steven but does not have his own universe, is able to produce a shield from his.. Belly button? Which was a large gemstone? 

Not to mention the kids swearing up and down that the animation gets better later in the show and imploring him to not be deterred by how freakishly big Garnet’s hair was. 

Really. You could fit maybe nine of her heads just in her hair. Count it in the early episodes, that isn’t a joke.

He’d humor them.

He stood up and stretched out his legs, reflexively rising to his toes with the motion for a split second, and glanced back at the kids. “What do you two think about saving the rest of the show for later? I had quite the metabolism as a child, I could use a snack.” An empty, burning sensation in his stomach made itself known. “..or three, hm.”

Eat his weight in leftover mac n’ cheese. Yes. His thoughts on the mad scientist slander in Lilo & Stitch could wait. As a mad scientist himself, though, he’d have to speak out about it eventually.

Jumba was not a criminal, he was a brilliant mind and misunderstood. And he’d fight someone over that opinion.

“Snacks are the most important part of a sleepover,” Mabel blew such a loud raspberry that it peppered Ford’s face with spit, much to his horror, “of course we’re gonna have snacks!”

Ford shakily extended a hand toward the tissue box on the coffee table behind him, and Dipper passed it to him so he could aggressively scrub the germs from his face. When he finished he took a trembling breath and nodded. “Right, yes.” He murmured. “Let’s go and get some, then.” As he moved to step toward the kitchen, a hand grabbed the back of his sweater and tugged him back.

“In the attic, silly! C’mon!” Mabel snickered at him, then once again dragged him toward the stairs. Scruffed like a cat this time.

The door was loudly kicked open, Mabel dragging her stumbling uncle inside and Dipper boredly following with his hands in his pockets. She dove into the blanket fort again. “I have so many snacks!” announced the girl proudly when Ford crawled in himself. He just wanted mac n’ cheese.

“Let’s seeeee.. Chips?” She held up a bag of plain chips.

Ford shook his head. “Too salty.” 

“Okayokayokay. Candy corn?”

He considered it for a moment. Candy corn was good, but Halloween had just passed and he’d practically survived on it for a few days so he wasn’t too keen on it. “Too last month.”

Mabel’s eyes narrowed. “Blasphemy..” she whispered, glaring at Ford as she dug through her snack pile.

“It’s a seasonal treat, hun.” He waved a hand. “And don’t even consider anything minty.”

“Not even those chewy mints they put on pillows?” A red bag filled with the things was practically shoved in his face.

His eyes sparkled. “They sell those to regular people!?” 

“Yeah!” Conspiracy crossed her expression as she glanced around, then nudged Dipper’s elbow “If you know where to look..”

Dipper rolled his eyes, laughing softly. “They’re in the very back corner of the section in the grocery store with all the ice cream. On one of those rack things they always put in the middle of aisles to manipulate people into buying random junk?”

Ford nodded slowly, his chin resting on his hand. Stars, he could have just bought them? This whole time? But him and Stan fought over those things when they went to hotels as kids! It got so bad that their mother had to go to the front desk and ask for more! Since when could he just purchase them!?

“I am.. To say the least, offended that you’ve kept this from me for so long.” He pinched the wrapper of one of the candies until the mint was forced out of the other side and tossed it into his mouth, then flopped backward. “I am sixty-four years old, and I just learned that.”

“Come on, it’s not that devastating.”

“Let me eat my emotions, Dipper.” The mint crunched loudly under his teeth, and before it was even gone he grabbed another.

A weary sigh escaped Dipper and he slowly shook his head. “Aaaaand he’s chain-eating them. Can I at least have some?”

Ford gave a muttered, “oh, yes, of course,” and extended the bag toward Dipper and Mabel. Dipper took one while Mabel scooped out a handful.

“Doo-doo-doo, saving it for later..” she murmured as she tucked them beneath the fold of her sweater collar, leaving a few to eat now. Impressive makeshift pocket. 

When she finished storing the extras like a chipmunk she shoved the rest into her mouth, wrappers and all.

The awful part was that Ford didn’t even blink. He'd watched her do that (and told her not to) dozens, maybe hundreds of times by then. “You shouldn't eat plastic, sweetie,” uttered him halfheartedly.

“It’s fine, I’ve been eating glitter since I was, like, two!” The statement made Ford’s brows raise in surprise. Didn’t her parents think to teach her not to– he was suddenly even happier that him and Stan had custody. Wow.

Instead of commenting further he quietly lamented about her poor digestive system and popped another mint. 

Within minutes, the bag was empty and they’d dipped into both the candy corn and the pretzels.

“Okay, now that we’ve had snacks..” Pure mischief colored Mabel’s expression as she stood up (partially anyway, the ceiling of the fort wasn’t that high) and shuffled out of the fort. Scampering footsteps rang out around the fort, then the sound of.. Wheels?

“Oh, no.” Dipper whispered. “It’s the karaoke machine.” He was halfway through pushing himself to his feet before Mabel dragged the machine inside.

With a excited yell of, “KARAOKE!!” Mabel removed the microphone from the side of the machine and tossed it in her hand. “I downloaded a million new songs, who wants to go first?”

“I did not consent to this.” Ford stated with a slightly raised hand.

His nephew groaned and slapped a palm to his face. “You agreed to the sleepover. It’s implied to her.”

“That is not how it w–” he cut himself off with a yell as the microphone hit him in the face and Mabel gave a frantic “sorry!” Adjusting his glasses, he ignored the stinging from the frame being shoved into the bridge of his nose at what must have been mach five and put on an amused face to cover up the pain. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I hardly even felt it.”

Yes the hell he did, but that was fine.

He figured he’d just bite the bullet and suffer through the karaoke so Dipper wouldn’t have to. Singing was fun, anyway, he was just afraid to hear what this voice would sound like belting TiK ToK. Why was it capitalized like that? Was it because it was by Kesha? 

Personally, Ford wouldn’t use improper capitalization like that just because his first name started with an F. That would give his highschool English teacher heart palpitations. And him. 

“Okay, so, we’ve got..” Mabel scrolled through the different songs. “Every Chappell Roan song!” When Ford quickly shook his head she nodded, then continued. “How about Bonnie & Clyde?”

“Which one?”

“The K-Pop one.”

“No.”

“I think you’d like Language of the Lost!” Eh.. he shook his head again. He wasn’t in the mood for it. “Got it, got it.. Ooh, what about Highway to..” she glanced around, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Heck?”

Ford perked up. “Highway to Hell!? I didn’t know you kids knew that song!” Against his will his free hand excitedly flapped, and the one holding the microphone shook it back and forth. 

“I mean, it was in Megamind. A lot of older kids have at least heard it.” Dipper reasoned with an amused smirk that Ford was sure had nothing to do with his stimming. “So, that one, then?”

“..yes, that one.” He folded his arm behind his back, holding the microphone near his face with the other as Mabel started up the music with an eager squeak.

“Go for it, Grunkle Ford!” She cheered with two thumbs up.

Grinning, Ford nodded lightly nodded his head to the beat of the opening instrumental.

Just as he took a breath to start singing, he was met with the biggest disappointment of his life as the door slammed open with Stan on the other side.

“Who the he- the heck listens to AC/DC at two in the morning!?” He barked, actively picking the crust from one of his eyes. 

He was met with three shocked looks, not unlike the ones Dipper and Mabel had given Ford yesterday when they reduced their own cooking to ashes. 

“It’s.. two?” Ford whispered, his eyes flicking around the room for a clock but returning unenlightened, and he cleared his throat and tugged down his sweater sleeves. “I’ll just go to the basement, then–”

Stan stepped in front of him before he could do that. “Nope. Bed. You and the kids.”

Him and the kids? That separated him from the group known as “the kids,” making him not a kid. He appreciated that.

That aside, he was not going to bed. 

“I am not going to bed.” He grumbled as his niblings begrudgingly went to grab their pajamas. “You’re my brother, my younger brother at that. You don’t tell me what to do.”

With a roll of his eyes, Stan crossed his arms. Ford unconsciously mirrored the pose. “I do right now, you told me to make you go to bed if it starts gettin’ bad again.”

“I did not,” he hissed, because he would never give Stan authority over him! That was just spitting on his prestige as the older twin! Fifteen minutes, that was nine hundred seconds and each one coun–

“Stanley, I hereby authorize you to take any actions necessary to ensure that I receive at least most of the proper rest I require to function. I mean that. Really. I think I’ll die if I pull this many all-nighters again,” crackled Ford’s older voice on an audio recorder in Stan’s hand.

Ford just stared at him with puffed up cheeks and narrowed eyes for a moment before he realized, “you just.. Constantly carry that around?”

“That’s none of your business.” 

“He’s gotten me with that twelve times,” complained Dipper as he took from his drawer a white shirt with blue hems, a blue pine tree in the middle. Also known as: the exact same shirt he was currently wearing.

So the family was a bit sentimental about their zodiac symbols. People blindly followed those unscientific “star signs” all the time. How does the day of your birth dictate your personality!? A- Anyway, Stan put the tape recorder away and patted Ford on the head. “You said any actions and I have made chloroform before.” He threatened in spite of the way Ford reflexively stood on his toes to press the top of his head into his hand.

He knew Stan wouldn’t actually drug him. That would be awful. But as Mabel rolled out a sleeping bag for him in a nice corner of the blanket fort he figured he’d just relent. Just this once. “If you’re willing to go to such drastic measures, I’ll just have to comply.” He rolled his eyes. “Go back to sleep, I’ll make sure the kids don’t stay up.”

“Sure, you will.” Stan muttered flatly, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m holding you to that. Anyway, night, you three. Don’t let Bill bite or whatever.” He snorted and turned to leave. Dipper and Mabel followed, likely to brush their teeth, giving their respective goodnights.

“Night, Grunkle Stan!!” Mabel’s was accompanied with a hug that almost knocked Stan over.

“G’night, Stan,” and Dipper’s matched the energy of someone actually tired enough to go to bed.

If he was going to sleep, he’d might as well allow himself a modicum of comfort. Pajamas, then!

His adult clothes absolutely wouldn’t fit him. That complicated things quite a bit. With a finger moving to tap his chin and a drawn out, thoughtful hum, his eyes surveyed the room. Mabel’s clothes were out of the question. He wasn’t looking to have someone walk in on him putting on a skirt. 

Something manlier at least, like.. Shorts. Yes.

Actually, no, he’d rather it not happen at all. But now that the thought had been put in his head he felt like it was going to happen. He scampered over to lock the door just in case. Then he closed the window. 

Then he breathed a sigh of relief, recalling vividly that he’d sealed up all the cracks in the roof.

..Did he? Maybe he missed a spot. Oh, stars, this was horrible. Awful. Being alone in a room with his own thoughts. Nightmarish. It almost felt like–

His eyes landed on Dipper’s dresser and his mind shut up for just a moment. He was just about the same size as him, maybe a bit smaller but Dipper had not hit any sort of growth spurt, surely he could fit something of his.

Digging through the drawers (not without sorting the clothes because they were thrown in there haphazardly) proved fruitful as he took out a pair of red athletic shorts. They were made from a cool, breathable material, and best of all he’d never seen Dipper wear them in his life so he was sure he wouldn’t miss them.

Paranoia of being watched be damned. He put on the shorts. 

“Hm, comfortable,” he observed under his breath, looking down at the loose garment. A little big on him. That was an easy fix, he tightened the drawstring. There was something nice about wearing something other than long pants. His legs felt.. Freer. 

Next, he pulled the sweater off and folded it, setting it on Dipper’s bed as he folded his pants. Then he placed the outfit neatly on top of his dresser and worked to put away everything he’d taken out.

Socks and undergarments went in the top drawer. Tops in the drawer below it. Bottoms in the bottom drawer. All arranged from shortest to longest left to right.

The way it was supposed to be. Dipper’s system was wrong. 

When he’d closed the final drawer, placed his bracelet on top with a clatter and remembered to unlock the attic door, he settled into his sleeping bag. It was soft and immediately warm from his body heat. So, so warm. 

Just as he felt his eyes start to close he jolted back into reality with flailing limbs at the door slamming open.

“GRUNKLE FORD!!” Shrieked none other than Mabel the banshee, Dipper trailing behind her as she ran into the room. “You are not going to believe what I just found!” She did have her arms behind her back. This was usually a bad sign.

He tiredly rubbed his eye, then loosely gestured for her to continue.

“So I was looking around the basement while Dipper was brushing his teeth–”

“Because she’s a creep,” Dipper interjected.

“–and I found the cutest little guy!” With the sweetest little grin, she revealed the object from behind her back.

A beat-up lamb plushie with one button for an eye.

An old friend. 

On what must have been pure instinct he reached out and took the plushie from her, staring blankly at it. He remembered having the little thing through thick and thin in his childhood. Even after he let Pa kick Stan out. 

It wasn’t the same after that, really. It was never the same. But at least he had something to hold when he cried.

Of course, he didn’t cry anymore, no, he didn’t need a silly plush to manage his emotions. 

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take it while he could, though. 

“What’s their name?” Mabel asked, crouching to inspect the plush as he hugged it to his chest.

He had to think about that one. Really think. And.. Nothing cropped up in his mind. Names he would give it, but not an actual confirmed name. “I.. don’t recall.” Shifting onto his side made for better hugging. 

That was how some childhood memories worked, he supposed. You remember the feeling, the meaning more than the details. But his body remembered exactly how he’d cuddle the ratty old lamb and reacted accordingly.

If he- it didn’t have a name, Ford figured he should give it one. “..um.. How about Lambert?” With his eyes half-open and his brain only half-functional it sounded like a wonderful name. 

“You mean like the German nam-”

“THAT’S SO CUTE!” His ears stung with the sheer volume of Mabel’s words, and he may have clutched the plushie a bit tighter but who was to say really.

..”Lambert” it was, then. If only the decision was less painful.

“Okay, well,” he ducked his head into the sleeping bag and looked out at the kids. “I’m going to bed. As long as you two are quiet and don’t do any.. Stupid sleepover pranks while I’m asleep, Stan doesn’t have to know however long you stay up.” A wink hopefully got his point across, and he took his glasses off to toss out of his cocoon. “..if one of you could set those somewhere they won’t get stepped on,” he requested under his breath.

Dipper gave a muttered affirmative and picked up the glasses, then Ford heard them being placed somewhere.

“We're just going to bed, right?” He asked, looking over at Mabel.

Mabel gave an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah, the most important part of a sleepover is sleeping!” She face planted into her bed, shimmying under her purple covers, and glanced at Dipper. “..You get the light.”

“Aw, what? I was just about to get into bed.” His arms spread out slightly, hands gesticulating.

“I did it first, though!” she replied cheekily.

A huffed, “fine,” drenched in the little anger he could manage to harbor toward his sister, and he walked over to the light switch on the wall by the door. It was a nice upgrade from the lantern.

With a click that Ford had engineered to be as crisp and satisfying as possible and was not disappointed by, the room was plunged into darkness.

“Good night, Mabel. And Grunkle Ford,” muttered Dipper as he settled into bed.

“Night, Dipper! Night, Grunkle Ford!”

“nhnhnhwhatevergoodnight.” Ford yawned deeply into Lambert’s matted fur.

A couple of giggles from the kids later the room was silent, and Ford went to sleep.

---author's note of sorts---

OKAY SO YOU MAY HAVE SEEN THAT BILLF*RD COMMENT HI DONT HURT ME okay so that is a joke. mostly meant to clarify that i dont ship it and that there will be NO in-fic mentions of it that aren't poking fun and to deter any ship tags. so uh. dont write me angry letters i can dislike what i want and tumblr kind of has a problem with harassing people over ships tmk so im just putting it out there right away that im not taking shit for it BE NICE GUYS

but if you're not here to tell me to go fuck myself then hey i literally could not care less!!! hope you enjoyed the fic!! :] /silly