#the reread of idiot gives me so much feelings again…

[bloody-finley]

old sketch I failed to post for the lack of courage…love my queen until now 💕

for me her charisma is truly hard to capture… :(

[aajjks]

FUCK! (III)

synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.

pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.

warnings. mâtürè thèmês, jèälöüs koo, dïrty thöughts, ëxplïcït jökès, yn ïs ä säd gïrlïe, sünshïnê koo, #nô fïltèr kôôk, hörny kóó, hè ïs öbsëssèd wïth yöur tïts.

disclaimer. this is purely fictional and this doesn’t represent bts’ jungkook irl. mature themes 18+ content ahead. mdni. ps. this jungkook thinks w his dick 👍

series masterlist.

note. hi, share feedback plz, send asks because they keep me really motivated <333 ENJOY! And I’m so sorry that I’m so late with the update. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the story and if you have, please reread because I know you’re going to enjoy this. Thank you so much.

Honestly, you’re really strong.

You’ve been having a lot of bad dates and stupid, awkward encounters with your ex, Kyungsoo.

But thankfully, who is there for you? Your dear Jungkook. Your roommate who has been with you for quite some time now and it’s safe to say that you’ve gotten a lot of used to his presence, and his stupid jokes.

It’s a new day and you feel a little less depressed as compared to the last week, the sun is out and you feel really hot— literally because the weather is getting warmer and warmer.

Jungkook is sitting on the couch watching football, he’s kind of obsessed with it and he’s always screaming at the screen like a maniac, “WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! YN DID YOU SEE THIS?”

Your ears hurt.

He’s probably talking about some goal that you’re not interested in, How can you be when you’re actually really concerned about your love life these days, you and kyungsoo broke up up quite some time ago and you’ve been struggling with dating.

You’re definitely over him, so what is the problem? You don’t know when that’s frustrating you.

“shut up- you’re too loud.” You snap, closing your eyes and frustration because it’s way too early in the morning, you are definitely a night owl, and he’s quite literally sunshine.

Jungkook eyes are focused on you now, “Woah you need to get laid- I’m volunteering if you care.” His stupid remark has you glaring at him and he just laughs it off, he winks at you in return. And just after that he has started to shamelessly stare at your chest.

He’s not wrong- you do need to get laid.

And Yeah, you’re wearing a top so what? It’s really hot.

“you’re so hot.” Jungkook breathes out. You can see his eyes, and his pupils are quite bright. He’s got pretty eyes. He’s really pretty. Not that you would say that to his face because he will eat your brain that you complimented him and that you want to fuck him.

You don’t.

Well, you’re not sure.

“I know tell me something I don’t know, and stop staring at my tits- they don’t talk.” You scold him, but his gaze just doesn’t budge, you’re so used to him that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

You just roll your eyes at him. “Bet I can make them..” Your gaze hardens and you pick up a pillow from your couch and hit him with it.

He’s so shameless.

Jungkook pretends to be hurt, whining that you hit him hard. What a manchild, “quit it Jeon.” You warn him and he smirks. “And if I don’t? You’re going to punish me?! Please do.” He begs.

You scoff in disgust, but just then you get an idea- you’re going to mess with him. It’s your turn to smirk as you look at him in the eyes once again. “you’re walking on thin ice and you say that you want me to give you a chance, but… not sure if I should because you are a creep.” You shrug and it’s so satisfying the way his expressions change from smug to anxious.

You got him.

VICTORY.

“what are you talking about? I’m not a creep. And I…I please give me one chance all right I’ll stop my remarks.” he is struggling like an idiot. It’s is really nice to be in control.

“respectfully you just have nice breasts.” he shrugs, but you can tell he’s still panicking about what you just said. He ain’t wrong though you got nice breasts but it’s not nice to stare at them.

“Shut up- THIN ICE.”

You warn him, and he puts a finger on his mouth- his doe eyes are literally so panicky, “ugh I have work..” you whine- and Jungkook has started to focus on the game once again, “hey?! You have work too!!!? get up!”

“Yeah no. I won’t get scolded if I’m a little late because my boss kind of likes me.” He laughs.

What a fuckboy.

“you fuck your boss?!!” You know that’s not what he said or implied but you’re so curious, “uh no? Yn you’re mean!” he looks back at you acting so offended.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

You get up before he can even give you a reaction because you know he’s gonna freak out and your prediction is confirmed when you can hear him screaming like an idiot.

You smile as you go back to your room to get ready for work, it wouldn’t be a mistake to give him a chance because he obviously likes you and— he’s been asking you out forever, so why not?

But you’re not sure if you are gonna work out as a couple because he’s too much sometimes, But you’re still going to give him one chance to prove himself.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.”

You giggle as you shut the door behind you.

Sure.

He’s still having those wet dreams about you, it’s a struggle for him and he’s concerned because he’s never felt this way for anyone, and it’s just not the wet dreams.

His feelings for you are the main problem.

He annoys the fuck out of you and your both sitting in the couch, he’s pretending to watch football, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re right next to him smelling like a goddess, and that top of yours?

It’s torture.

Jungkook gets distracted for a minute when his favorite team scores a goal and he screams, he knows that you get annoyed with him and he does that but it’s so fun to get these reactions out of you.

He loves it when you tell him to shut up. And yeah it’s not your fault that you’re so hot because it’s really warm, you just have to make everything look so good.

He looks at you for a minute, and then his gaze just automatically goes to your chest.

You are quite magnificent.

“You’re so hot.” he can’t help but compliment you when you just shrugged and say that you know.

Your confidence is so hot, Jungkook tries his best to be subtle with his lust and attraction towards you, but sometimes it’s just impossible for his tongue to not slip.

He says some things that get you angry.

You hit him with a couch pillow, and he Reacts dramatically, he was just kidding about that one joke. “Ugh.” He whines.

And just like that you guys banter for a while, that isn’t until he fucks it up a little bit more, and you warn him

No, he cannot lose his chance with you.

“I…I please give me one chance. All right, I’ll stop with my remarks.” He is so stupid. Why can’t he keep his hormones and tongue in check?

He doesn’t want you to think that it’s only because he’s physically attracted to you, it’s more than that, yeah, he dreams about fucking you but he also dreams about being with you forever.

That’s how much he likes you.

So please just give him one chance— he thinks to himself when you bring up work and he knows that yeah he has to go to work, but his boss is quite lenient and the pay is really good.

He is watching the game once again when you accuse him of fucking his boss, he does not do that— Jungkook feels a little bad, because that’s all you think of him?

“uh no I don’t- Yn you’re mean!” he looks at you and this time your breasts don’t distract him, he wants you to think of him as a man that is of commitment, but he has a lot to prove.

He has really fucked up his chances—? He feels his heart break as negative thoughts consume him, and he cannot even log into your eyes anymore.

You get up, probably get ready for work because you take everything in your life or seriously and you’re Punctual.

You’re so perfect for him

But maybe it looks like he’s not perfect for you. And that sucks, Should he just give up on you? He’s not sure.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

Did he just hear you right? Did you really just say you don’t give him a chance? And then he can take you out on a date

He tilts his head so fast, absolutely freaked out, his eyes are white, and his mouth is agape,

He’s not being delusional right now, is he?

“Y-Yn what did you just say?

He stutters out because he really cannot believe what you just said right now, have you hit your head or something because he’s asked you the same question for the past year but you have denied him, so why the sudden change?

He feels so happy right now- jungkook gets up from the couch and goes after you, but before he can catch you, so we can confirm what he just heard you giggle.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.” Before you can actually shut the door he says it out loud.

and you shut the door behind you.

[lilacs-stars]

aiming for your heart

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: you agree to a tutoring session with your pirate classmate, but things end up taking an...unexpected twist. GENRE: pure fluff, a bit of banter CW: nothing much, just mentions of societal pressures WC: 7.9k (they just keep getting longer...)

A/N: I decided to finally do something cute and fluffy after days of working on dark angsty stuff and this felt like a much-needed breath of fresh air. it was so fun to write, so thanks to the anon who requested this for the fun idea! <3 please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd love to know your thoughts!

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, circle, flick. Up, swish, cir—

“Ahh, oww!” you cry out as a very solid metal object collides with the side of your skull. Your hand instinctively goes up to the spot on your head—which you can already feel starting to swell—as you wince in pain. 

You’re supposed to throw the ring in the basket, not at my head, idiot, you think to yourself as you grimace. 

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!” you glance around the room, locking eyes with your classmate just a few tables away, whose wand is still poised in their hand and a bewildered expression planted on their face. “I just can’t seem to control…this gosh darn wand…”

You let out a little sigh, trying your best to not be impatient. After all, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as experienced in this field as you are. 

You glance back at the student, who’s rereading their textbook pages for what’s probably the tenth time. As you watch them struggle, a pang of guilt hits you for being so mean and irritable. It’s not like they were trying to hit you, and even though it was just a thought passing through in the privacy of your mind, you still feel as though thinking something mean like that is wrong. 

You push your chair back and rise from your seat, wand tightly gripped in one hand. Walking over to your classmate’s desk, you give a small smile as you ask them, “Need any help?”

They look up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, yes, please! Enchantment of Magical Objects is literally the hardest class ever!”

You grin again, keeping your demeanor light and friendly, like always. “Okay, so first, you go up, then swish, then circle your wand back around, and finally flick, and then…”

You copy the movements with your own wand as you speak, small magical sparks flickering off it at your gestures. After you complete your little demonstration, you both watch as a hand-sized sleek metal ring, somewhat resembling a circular horseshoe, levitates off the desk and neatly lands in a bucket in the center of the room. 

Today’s assignment in your Enchantment class is to use the Aiming Spell to throw the rings into a bucket. Safe to say, it wasn’t really going well for most of the class. 

“Wow, that was amazing! You’re so good at this Y/N!” your now starry-eyed classmate exclaims. “And I can barely get my rings off my desk…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you smile reassuringly. “After all, I’ve had a lot of experience around wands and enchantments.”

“Yeah, I suppose that is right. I guess not everyone can be as talented with magic as the Good Witch’s very own daughter.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, and you bid farewell to your classmate as you make your way back to your seat. They aren’t wrong, after all. Your mother, Glinda, taught you how to use a wand as soon as you could walk. You’ve been watching her use magic for ages, so it’s not a surprise to anyone that you’re top of your class. 

You sit back down, getting back to work. Even though you know you’ve already mastered the spell, you still have some class time left, which you decide to use wisely and continue practicing the spell. 

Staring at the pile of metal rings in front of you, you take a deep breath and begin the task of making each one levitate off your desk and make a perfect arch towards the basket. 

Up, swish, circle, flick. Up—swoosh!

A flying ring shoots straight past your face, barely missing you by only a few inches. You stumble backwards in your chair, quite startled. Still, it isn’t unusual to see objects flying around the classroom, or rather, objects flying where they’re not supposed to.

A moment later, another one whizzes past you again. Then a third, which gets so close to your face that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Annoyed, your head snaps to your right, trying to figure out who keeps nearly decapitating you. 

You glance around, finally locking eyes with what seems to be the culprit. Chair leaning against the wall, tipped back on its hind two legs, sits a figure with deep brown eyes and smokey eyeshadow look to match. A smirk is planted on his face, a mischievous glint in his gaze. He wears a dark red jacket on top of a black dress shirt, the collar disheveled and his tie loose around his neck. Contrary to his tousled outfit, his medium-length brown hair is neatly slicked back. One of his hands leisurely holds a wand while the other rests behind his head, and combined with the way he has a leg crossed over the other, one would think he’s enjoying a nice day at the beach instead of sitting in class at one of the most prestigious academies in the land.

You fix him with a look, your gaze subconsciously morphing into a glare as he jerks the wand up, causing one of the metal rings in front of him to levitate a few inches off his desk. With a flick of the wrist, he sends it flying across the room once again. Having learned your lesson, this time you duck down, eyes following the disk as it soars across the room. You watch as it shoots straight towards its target, who expertly crouches as the metal ring hits the wall behind him with a thud, falling to the ground and joining the previous disks.

The target of these attacks is a boy you recognize to be a good friend of the ring-throwing troublemaker, with light brown hair brushed away from his forehead and dressed in a dark green shirt with a black choker around his neck. Morgie le Fay shoots a glare across the room to his perpetrator, making a face that could only mean “You’ll pay for this later.”

Another disk comes shooting at his head, and he ducks down yet again. This time, the metal hits the wall so hard, you worry it left a dent. Unable to take their child-like behavior any longer, you get up from your seat for the second time and stomp your way over to the disk-thrower.

“Hook!” you say as you reach his table. The man in question tilts his head towards you, looking up with an amused grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, lassie?” he replies, his accent crisp and unmistakable. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, knowing it would be terribly rude, even if he was getting on your nerves like no other. You settle for fixing him with another look. “Could you please stop hurling those disks around? It’s not the assignment, and you practically hit me!”

“My apologies, love,” Hook replies, still peering up at you, unbothered. You honestly doubt he means it, so you frown and try again. “I’m being serious, Hook.”

“As am I,” he replies, making you want to smack that stupid smirk off his face. Deep breaths, deep breaths, you remind yourself. Violence is never the answer. You find it funny how you can almost hear your mother’s voice as you repeat those words in your head, the ones she always tells you.

“So you’ll stop?” you ask, raising a brow and putting your hands on your hips to show him you’re not messing around.

“Ah, well, you see,” Hook starts, and it takes every ounce of benevolence in you to not internally combust at whatever excuse he’s planning to come up with. “I’m having a tad bit of trouble with this spell, love. No matter what I do, I simply can’t seem to lock on to the right target.”

At this, you raise your eyebrows again, disbelief laced through your every cell. “Why don’t you give it a go,” you say, jerking your chin towards the basket in the middle of the room. “You never know until you don’t try.”

Hook leans forward in his chair, righting it again so it stands on all four legs. He raises his wand, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s actually concentrating on the task at hand. One of the metal disks rises into the air, levitating a meter above the floor.

Hook flicks his wand forward and the disk sails away, missing the basket in an almost laughable attempt at execution. Instead of the proper target, it lands on the edge of a file cabinet in the far corner of the room. You pray for the poor soul that will inevitably open one of its drawers, only to be smacked in the head by a piece of solid steel.

Eyebrows raised, Hook unabashedly turns back around to face you with that grin of his. “So how was that, love? Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” you huff, shaking your head at him. “Honestly, I haven’t seen anyone make such a…uh, interesting attempt at this assignment.” Deep down, a little part of you really wants to say much meaner things, but you bite back your words, knowing that showing contempt never did anyone any good.

“Interesting, eh?” Hook’s smirk grows, and you can see him already scheming inside that villainous little mind of his. “Say, Y/N”—he uncrosses his legs, leaning in your direction—“you’re the top student of this class, are you not?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but refrain from saying anything you know you’ll later regret. “Yes, and?”

“Well, as you can clearly see here, I require a bit of assistance with this assignment. After all, not everyone grew up waving wands like you,” he quips, flourishing the wand in his hand as if it were an ordinary stick. Abruptly, he stills his movements and drops the wand on his desk, before turning to face you directly, locking eyes. “Would you be so kind as to teach me a few things?”

You quirk your brows, albeit attempting to keep a straight face. “Are you asking me to…tutor you?”

Hook grins yet again. “This evening, 7 o’clock, the common area in the East Wing.” He puts his hand on his knees as he gets up, now leering a few inches above you. Still holding your gaze—although he has to tilt his head down to do so—he asks, “I’ll see you then?”

You blink twice, mind replaying the events that led to you getting yourself stuck in this situation. On the one hand, you definitely don't want to have a one-on-one study session with a villain—and an annoyingly smug one at that. Honestly, the few interactions you are forced to have with him in class are far enough for you. 

But on the other hand, he is asking for help to improve his grades…after all, it’s not every day someone the likes of him shows interest in learning. Plus, you know that it’s not right to turn away a person in need of your help, no matter how insufferable they are. Especially if they’re always flashing you a smile filled with shining white teeth and full, plump pink lips.

A sigh escapes your mouth before you can stop it as you resign yourself to your fate. “Alright, I guess. But come prepared to learn. That means you need your wand, your textbooks, notebo—”

He cuts you off with a passive sweep of his hook, much to your annoyance. Leaning in just a little closer to you, enough to make your palms slightly sweaty, his face tilts down even nearer to yours. “It’s a date, then,” Hook says, his voice soft but still with that teasing tone it always seems to carry.

“It’s not a date!” you call out as the bell rings, but he’s already making his way out of the classroom, sauntering off to do who-knows-what.

Heavens, what have I gotten myself into, you think, placing a hand on your forehead as you breathe out a long, heavy sigh.

The evening rolls around far too quickly for your liking, and before you know it you’re making your way out of your doom room and up a set of stairs.

You keep on thinking about how you had ample time to back out of this arrangement; plus, you would be lying if you said you didn't consider it a number of times. But each time, you remind yourself that you are doing a good deed for someone obviously in need of a good influence. That you have to be selfless and put aside your personal feelings to serve a good cause, as all heroes do. That your opinions don't really matter—after all, the best heroes are the ones who make the deepest sacrifices, right?

So that’s how you find yourself dragging heavy feet across a corridor, a tiny voice in your head begging you to turn around, as you finally reach the common area set as your meetup spot. You glance at your wristwatch, which reads 6:55. You had decided to leave a bit early so you could arrive with a few minutes to spare. As your mother always reminds you, “It’s better to be an hour early than a minute late.”

Pulling out a chair at a nearby two-person table, you sit down, plopping your bookbag next to you. You had stuffed it full of your personal notes, your wand, and several textbooks you thought could help Hook. 

Tapping a pencil on the wooden desk, you sigh, glancing at your clock again. 6:57. Thinking back on your previous decision, you wonder why you left so early. After all, you have Hook down in your mind as the type to be extremely unpunctual. Leaning back in your chair out of sheer boredom, you start to clearly picture Hook showing up a good hour late. Heck, you’d be surprised if he even shows up at all. 

The clock hits 6:59, and you begin to debate how long you’re willing to stay here before giving up and returning to your dorm. Would ten minutes be enough? Fifteen? Thirty? The more you think about it, the more you can imagine this being some sort of elaborate prank to trick you. After all, why would a delinquent villain like Hook ever be interested in planning a tutoring session?

You sigh once again, angry at yourself for being so naive as to fall for his little trick. Drumming your fingers on the table as you put your head down, you mentally punch yourself for your gullibility. 

Which is why you nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of a loud thud sound from in front of you. You jerk back into your chair, arms flailing as it tips, causing you to nearly topple backwards. With your reflexes kicking in, your hand latches onto the edge of the table—thankfully—and you manage to pull yourself back to a more stable position.

Hand clutching your pounding heart, you roll your head back to be greeted with that stupid little smirk that haunts your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, love. After all, we were planning to meet up, were we not?” Hook says, tone extremely smug and a tiny bit pitiful at your frightened state. 

You raise your arm and flick your wrist, reading the time displayed on your clock. 7:00. He…he showed up exactly on time, you think, praying that your shock isn’t displayed on your face.

As if he can read your mind—and in all honesty, maybe he can—Hook says, “You didn’t doubt me, now, did you, darling? How could I skimp out on our little date?”

“It’s not a date,” you tell him once again, not even trying to hide the annoyance in your voice this time.

“Whatever you say.” Hook gives a little grin as he raises his eyebrows for a second. Before you can continue to argue, he pulls out the chair across from you and sits down. You eye a small black leather satchel that dangles from his hook as he drops it down on the floor. Huh, he even came prepared.

He leans in, arms resting on the table, as he fixes you with a sly grin. “So, Miss Teacher, what are you going to teach me today?”

You hate to pass on the opportunity to make a snarky remark, but you know that rubbing Hook the wrong way is not going to make these next few hours any less sufferable. Instead, you simply go for a “How about you start by getting out your materials?”

“As you wish, m’lady.” An irritated sigh escapes your lips, and you realize you’ve been sighing a lot more than usual ever since you got in this…predicament. You watch, somewhat impatiently, as Hook reaches down and draws a single notebook and his practice wand out of the leather satchel. Glancing at his materials, then back at yours, you realize that you came a lot more prepared than he did, even though you’re not the one trying to learn here. Well, I guess him putting in some effort still better than nothing.

You pull out one of the thick textbooks from your bag, the used animal skin cover peeling at the edges and the pages yellowed from the wear of time. 

“First, we’re going to get started with the theory of enchantments and spells.” You flip through the pages until you land on the first of many detailing the basics of spellcasting. “Even though we’re going to be focusing on the Aiming Spell, the underlying principles are pretty much the same for all spells you use. Now, you see here, highlighted in the chart are the five main…”

You chance a glance over at Hook, voice trailing off when you realize he isn’t listening. In fact, he's not even looking at the textbook placed in the middle of the desk. Instead, his gaze is fixed on…

…you?

“Hey! Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo!” you exclaim, pulling back from the table. Hook remains unflinching, his chin in his good hand as he stares up at you with a sparkle in his eye. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, love. You’re just so…so entrancing.”

You blink hard, recoiling at his words. He’s not flirting with you…is he? No, there’s no way. Don’t be overly arrogant, you convince yourself. This is just his personality, how he usually acts. The same way he calls everyone “love” and “darling.” There’s absolutely nothing more to it than him saying anything he can think of to fluster you and throw you off track.

…Right?

You ignore the stupid little flutter your heart does at not just being called pretty, or beautiful, or any of the normal compliments. No, you aren’t normal, you’re entrancing…

Snap out of it! you internally scold yourself. This is just another one of his little antics. You’re just letting him win by getting in your head. 

“Look, I didn’t come here and set aside this chunk of my valuable time to tutor you, only for you to not listen. If you came here to mess around—” you rant, but you’re cut off before you can get everything off your chest.

“I apologize, lassie. I promise, I’ll focus from here on out,” Hook vows. You eye him with a glare, feeling very distrustful, but you’re only met with his rather sincere gaze.

You let out another breath, once again regretting agreeing to this. “Fine. Get out your notebook. You’re going to want to take notes on this.”

Hook nods and reaches into his satchel, which is still lying on the floor. “If I’m being completely honest—which I assume you must hold in high regard, being a hero and whatnot—I really didn’t expect you to be so…irritable.”

You shoot Hook another glare, before realizing that you’re just proving his point. You give a brief roll of your eyes as you attempt a smile. “I’m not usually like this,” you say, fighting to keep a decently pleasant expression on your face. “You just really find a way to, how should I put this, you really—”

“Push your buttons?” Hook finishes for you, raising his eyebrows.

“I was going to say you really find a way to get on my nerves, but that too,” you respond, with obviously forced cheerfulness. “Whatever, we need to get back to studying. For real this time.”

Hook replies with an “Of course, m’lady,” before you begin your lecture again on the foundation of enchantments. This time, he makes sure to periodically glance down at the textbook pages and occasionally nod or ask a question, all to ensure that you don’t catch him staring at you again. Unbeknownst to you, adoration shines bright in his eyes as he studies your features, committing them to memory every time you’re not looking his way.

You spend some time going over theory with Hook, until you can feel him growing restless, causing you to start wondering if people like him have a capacity for how much information they can absorb at one time. Deciding that theory is no good if it’s not put to practice, you slam the textbook shut once you reach the end of a page, standing up.

Hook looks up at you, a slightly startled expression on his face. “Come on,” you say. “Now we’re going to see how much you paid attention by putting your lesson to good use.”

You hope to see a look of fear flash across his face, but his demeanor stays completely even. Feeling a bit let down, you remind yourself that he still has to actually cast the spell. Watch him mess it up, you think. Let’s see how smug he is then, huh?

Reaching down into your bookbag, you pull out a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. You open it to reveal a handful of metal disks, similar to the ones you had used earlier in class. You empty them out on the table before walking over to the middle of the room and placing the cloth down on the floor, a good number of meters away from your table. “This is your target area,” you explain. “Stand by the table and get those rings to land within the borders of the cloth.”

Let’s see how well you fare now, pretty boy.

“Aye, that’s not fair,” Hook says, scrunching his brow as he gestures towards your setup with his hook. “That cloth’s much smaller than the basket we used in class. And the distance is far greater.”

“Well, if you learn how to get the spell right with tougher constraints than the requirement, you’ll be sure to do great for the real thing.” You flash him a wink as you watch his jaw part slightly, an incredulous expression painted on his face. “That’s how I always ace my exams.”

Hook draws in a breath, putting his ever-famous smirk back on his face, although you can feel his unease this time. He picks up his wand, turning around to point it at disks on the table. 

Up. He rolls his hand upwards, and one of the disks starts to levitate a foot in the air.

Swish. Hook jerks his wrist to the side, causing the disk to start gently vibrating with potential energy. 

Circle. He rotates his hand counterclockwise, drawing a circle with the tip of the wand.

Flick. You watch with bated breath as Hook flicks the wand towards the cloth in the middle of the room. 

Both of you follow the disc’s arc through the air with tense anticipation, as it soars, soars…

…and ends up missing the cloth by a good three feet.

Hook gives a small, halfhearted laugh, trying to keep up the suave facade. Yet you notice the way his shoulders slump forward, the way his body stiffens in an embarrassing shock. 

Part of you feels a wickedly twisted satisfaction at his failure—but as soon as you recognize it for what it is, you shove it away, repulsed at the thought of you even coming close experiencing such an emotion. Plus, the majority of you feels rather disappointed at the undesirable outcome. Whether it’s Hook’s chagrin rubbing off on you, or the voice in your head whispering that you, as his teacher, failed at your job, you can’t help but feel a bit let down at his messing up.

“Hey, it’s fine. Let’s try again,” you say softly, your usual eager-to-help manner coming back at the sight of someone needing comforting.

And so, Hook tries again. And again. And again.

Finally, after the seventh or eighth try, he puts the wand back down on the table. “I don’t know what to tell you, love. No matter how hard I try, it’s simply not working.” You sigh, looking at the floor before you, which was now littered with disks. “Hey, at least you got closer each time! That’s still progress.” You attempt to raise his spirits a bit, but he just fixes you with a look that tells you he’s not one to fall for your false positivity.

“Uhm…” You hesitate, not quite sure what to do next or how to fix this. “How about you see how I do it, and try to copy that?”

Hook gives a small nod and you fish out your wand, pulling up your sleeves and taking a deep breath to prepare. Focusing on one of the disks on the table, you start the particular movements. Up. Swish. Circle. Flick!

Both of you watch in somewhat astonishment as the ring curves perfectly through the air, flying with grace, as it lands directly in the center of the cloth.

Hook looks at you with raised eyebrows. Although that little part of you wants to rub it in his face, the fact that a hero, out of all people, bested him, you decide that torturing him with your teasing is only going to make him less likely to get the spell right.

“You see that? Now, try to copy it yourself,” you instruct.

And so, Hook makes a few more attempts, landing closer to the cloth each time, now only a couple inches away—yet never actually making contact with it.

You study his movements carefully as he casts the spell, trying to figure out what he’s doing wrong. After a few more of his failed attempts, you decide to try a different approach.

“Okay, watch me do it again, but this time come hold my wand from behind so you can get a feel for how I cast it,” you say, glancing up at Hook. “After all, it’s all in the wrist.” You recite a line your mother always says, one that often replays in your mind as you cast a spell. In your opinion, her guidance is the main reason that you’re so good at spells.

You’re still sitting down in your chair, pushing it in a little to provide room for him to come up behind you and reach your wand. 

You were expecting Hook to get rather close; after all, there aren’t many ways for two people to hold the same wand in the position you were in without a tight proximity. What you weren’t expecting was the way he comes up from behind you leisurely, deliberately. The way his chest presses into your back as he leans in, arm brushing against yours as he extends it towards the wand. The way you can feel his exhales on your skin, breathing down your neck—literally—causes goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. The way his natural aroma engulfs you completely, overwhelming your senses all at once. How his large hand feels on yours as he places it on top, curling his fingers around the wand—and yours, as well. The way you can feel the smirk dancing on his face, looking down at you with what you expect to be half-lidded eyes. 

And the way your heart races, good heavens. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you just ran a marathon. Your body simultaneously heats up and freezes at his touches, no matter how small, your mind becoming overly aware of every point of contact you have with him. You fight against the overstimulation flooding your senses, resisting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your legs, while hoping that the wand doesn’t slip out of your hand as perform the incantation. 

Truth be told, although you definitely won’t admit this to anyone: you really haven’t had much experience with romance, or anything of the sorts. All your life, you’ve focused on doing good deeds and keeping up with your studies, aiming to be the best of the best in the hero world. Which is probably why no boy has ever taken interest in you; instead of going to dances or out on dates, you've always spent your Friday nights locked away in your room, studying hard to make sure you ace your exams. Plus, with your goody-two-shoes streak, you aren't exactly the most sought-out person in your class.

Which is why with the way Hook flirts with you, and now, the way you can feel his inhales and exhales against your skin—subconsciously trying to match the rhythm of his breathing—your brain is short-circuiting. The lack of romantic attention you’ve received your whole life is behind why you don't know how to react to Hook's antics, while still internally freaking out at his movements and words.

You inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady your quivering hand and hope that Hook doesn’t notice your reaction. But after the amused little hum he gives, your embarrassment grows by the second. Trying your best to focus on the task at hand, you say, “Okay, here goes.”

Up. You feel Hook’s grip tighten around your hand, just a little bit but still enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Swish. The disk vibrates with extreme intensity, to the point where you’re afraid it’ll break apart, despite the metal structure.

Circle. As you circle your wrist around, you feel Hook’s arm rub against yours even more, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Gods, the things this man is doing to you.

Flick. You flick the wand towards the cloth yet again, jerking your head sideways to follow it as it flies across the room. Agonizing in how it ignites every nerve in your body, you feel Hook’s head brush against the top of yours as he follows your movements, watching the disk soar.

It seems, for a minute, as if it’s going to land right on top of the previous one. But to both your shocks, it falls just outside the borders of the cloth, barely touching the edge.

Your face absolutely burns in embarrassment, palms dripping with sweat now. Hook tilts his head towards yours—which you feel all too well—as he says, far closer to your ear than you would’ve liked, “Well, it seems like even the master makes mistakes, love.”

Fuming, you finally give into the urge and drop the wand to wipe your hands on your clothes. Screw him, you mentally curse. It’s all his fault. I’ve never messed up this spell before.

And as much as you want to blame him, you know that it’ll do you absolutely no good to tell him the fact that he was so close to you made your brain short-circuit to such an extent that you messed up a spell you could do since you were five.

You shake your head, refusing to accept your failure. “No, I…I don’t know what happened. It must have been a faulty disk. Just…I’m going to try again.”

Hook raises his eyebrows at you—or at least, you’re pretty sure he does, as you can’t see him from behind. You grab your wand again, and without even telling him to do so, Hook leans in and places his hand back over yours, your fingers trapped between his and the wand.

Internally, you find yourself growing impossibly more annoyed at him. Honestly, did he really have to go back to that position, the one that made you mess up the spell in the first place? You take a deep, steadying breath, forcing away all thoughts of Hook and how his dark brown eyes, beautiful and rich like the bark of the trees back in Oz, are boring into your skull right now. You simply can’t afford to get distracted again. Messing up the spell once is one thing—sure, everyone makes mistakes, don’t they? But twice? It would be absolutely inexcusable.

Twice would mean that you are not as adept as you thought you were, not talented enough in the one thing that you've been sure of for your whole life.

Remember the words.

Up, swish, circle, flick!

Fueled by your self-directed rage, you ensure that every movement you make is precise, sharp, and without a single tremor going through your hand. This time, the disk slices through the air with a clean, aerodynamic curve, and lands…

…right on top of your first one.

You beam, regaining your former confidence in your spellcasting abilities.

“The master may sometimes make mistakes, but they’re still the master,” you gloat. “Now come on, you need to practice till you get as good as that.”

You and Hook spend quite some time on practicing the spell, with you giving him pointers and him—surprisingly—improving. It seems as though your hands-on demonstration really helped him, as his skills greatly improved. 

Soon, in every set of ten rings he practiced on, he was consistently getting six or seven of them within the boundaries of the cloth, with one or two more landing on the edge, half-in. 

After one round where he managed to get nine of the disks touching the cloth—his personal best so far—you decide he needs something even more challenging.

“Woah, that was a really good round,” you praise. Hook turns to face you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that his normal smirk seems a little less snarky and a little more…genuine. 

“Still not as good as you, though, love,” Hook replies. You can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his nonchalant front, especially when it comes to academics, but the pride in his eyes and the earnest grip on his wand tell a different story. Honestly, you like him better this way. Less of him pretending to be a bad boy villain, and more of his real personality.

And in this moment, as you subtly study his features and think about his change in behavior over the past few hours, a thought that’s never even come close to crossing your mind suddenly pops up. What if villains, just like heroes, feel pressured to uphold a certain facade? The same way that you’ve always felt like you just have to be good, no matter the cost, no matter how hard it is for you, maybe villains feel the same way. Maybe they believe they always have to be bad, troublesome, and cruel. Even if that’s not who they truly are.

And through the lens of your new insight, you start seeing Hook in a different light. Just like how you feel as if being good and helpful and cheery all the time is a burden, how sometimes you wish you could just let loose and be selfish, maybe villains feel like being evil is a burden. Maybe Hook feels compelled to act smug and suave, even though that isn’t who he truly feels like being all the time. 

You begin to feel a deep sense of guilt for judging him based on his demeanor and criticizing his performance in class. Reflecting back, you realize that you had been unnecessarily harsh on him for something that is likely beyond his control. Gosh, I'm such an idiot, you think, shame burning your cheeks.

Shaking off your remorse, you put on another bright smile and try to respond as cheerfully as possible. “Hey, it’s still a huge improvement from sending the rings flying on top of a filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Or at innocent bystanders’ heads!” This time, you don’t encourage him because you feel pressured to do so, or because that’s who you know you’re supposed to be. You do it because deep down, in your heart, it’s what you feel like saying.

“Hmm, true,” Hook replies, angling his head to the side as he considers your point, the smallest of smiles still dancing on his lips.

“Now, for your final test.” At your statement, Hook raises a brow. “You need something different, something truly challenging. Something to prove your mastery of the Aiming Spell…”

You rack your brain for ideas, but nothing comes to mind. After a moment in silence, Hook speaks up. “I may have an idea.”

Glancing over at him, rather surprised—you were the teacher, after all—you gesture for him to go on. 

“Go stand over there by that wall,” he instructs, motioning with his hook to the wall opposite you two. “And put your hands up.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, fixing him with a look of wariness and doubt. You don’t move for a second, still too distrusting of him as you try to imagine what standing in that position has to do with casting a spell. Noticing your hesitation, Hook nods towards the wall again. “Well, go on, love.”

Still suspicious of him, you cave in and walk over to the far side of the room. Pressing your back against the wall as you raise your hands up, the position makes you feel as if you've just been caught red-handed in the midst of a crime. Hook still stands by the table, waiting patiently. You try to think back to the textbook pages you went over with him, wondering if you had accidentally taught him some sort of attack charm that he was planning to use on you.

Feeling your anxiety build, you wriggle your left fingers, wrapping your thumb and middle finger around the base of your pointer. You always wear a special, very pretty ring on that hand, a gift your mother gave to you a few years ago. Fiddling with it while twisting it around and around helps to soothe you, especially when you feel nervous.

But this time, when you go to repeat the same movement you always do, you feel the absence of the familiar metal surface and engravings etched into it. Glancing up at your hand, you confirm that your ring is indeed missing. The only trace of its former presence is the two parallel, circular indents in your skin from wearing it for so long.

Your panic skyrockets now at the loss of one of your favorite possessions, practically forgetting about Hook and the unease that accompanied his bizarre request. That ring had come with a special message; the night you got it, your mother had told you, “Remember when you were younger, and I told you that people are either good or bad? Well, that’s not quite true. No one is really black or white. We’re all just shades of gray. Some people are lighter gray, and some people are darker gray. And although we might be different shades, we all fall under the same color. Remember that, Y/N.”

And you have remembered it. Every time you go to toy with your ring, those words echo in your mind. Your mom had embedded the ring with a marble featuring a swirl of many different shades of gray, a reminder of the message that came along with it. You were too young to truly understand her words back then, but now, especially in these recent moments, you think you’re starting to fully grasp what she meant.

Snapping back to the present, you realize the serious problem you have at hand. “My ring!” you cry. “I could have sworn I had it when I came here…”

“Looking for this?” Hook’s smirk is back in full force. His left arm is raised, and on the crest of his polished metal hook, your precious ring glimmers under the golden lights projected from the ceiling.

“You…! When did you even…” your voice trails off as your mind catches up to your mouth. It must have been when he leaned in, while you were demonstrating the spell. That was the only time he had gotten close enough to you, although you don’t know how in the world he nicked it off your finger without you having the slightest hint.

Then you remember, quite painfully, how flustered you had been in that moment. If you were so distracted that you couldn't even cast a simple spell right, then you certainly wouldn’t have had enough brainpower to notice a skilled thief steal from you.

“Hey! Give that back!” you exclaim, huffing angrily, a frown etched deep into your face.

“I will, darling,” Hook replies smugly. “Now, raise your hands up again. And don’t wiggle your fingers around this time.”

“Give me my ring back first!” you demand, your previous annoyance towards him coming right back.

“Let me do this first, and then you’ll get your ring. Hands up.” At your glare, Hook tilts his head to the side and gives you a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Well, of course not, is the first thought that pops into your mind. You’re a liar and a thief, and above all, a villain.

But then you remember your mother’s words, your earlier revelation and how, just for a moment, you glimpsed Hook through a different light. So, although you definitely won't go as far as saying that you trust him, you still empathize with him enough to give in to his request.

Wordlessly, you raise your hands back up to your sides, palms facing in front of you, while fighting the urge to fidget again. You debate whether or not it’d be best to close your eyes for this, but you ultimately decide that if Hook does try to pull any more of his little tricks, all your senses should be sharp and aware.

And so you stand, frozen, as Hook raises the wand. For a second, you think he’s going to cast the spell on you. But instead, he uses his good hand to remove the ring from where it’s stuck in his hook, instead placing it dangling from the tip. He points his wand at the ring, repeating the maneuvers you two practiced so many times.

Up. The ring lifts off his hook and levitates just in front of him.

Swish. It starts vibrating like the disks, but due to its small size, your cherished ring begins to rotate on its axis.

Circle. With Hook’s circular movement of the wand, the ring’s spinning accelerates, locking on to its target—whatever that is.

Flick. For one final time, Hook flicks his wrist, this time towards you.

You watch, your heart pounding as fast as ever, as the ring—your ring—curves through the sky as it falls, getting closer and closer to you. You slam your eyes shut for just a beat, unable to bear the anticipation, before remembering your earlier rationale again.

Eyes flying open instantly, you regain your vision just as the ring falls, falls, falls, landing…

…directly on your finger.

But not the finger that you previously wore it on. Your eyes widen again in disbelief as it slips perfectly around your ring finger.

“Uh…I…uhm…” you stammer, confused and shocked and overwhelmed with far too many things at once to form a coherent sentence. How in the world did he cast such a precise Aiming Spell, in a situation where it wouldn’t have succeeded had he been even a centimeter off? And if he was so precise with his location pinpointing, then why in the world did he put it on your left ring finger??

“Come on, spit it out, love,” Hook replies teasingly. “You can say it, don’t be afraid.”

Your mind is working far too hard for you to shoot him a glare, but you mentally do it anyway. “That was…impressive,” you finally admit, although you wish you didn’t when Hook’s smug grin grows twice as wide. Ugh, his ego is already big enough. I did not need to inflate it like that.

“Could you always cast the spell that well?” you ask, still stunned at his precision. You honestly couldn’t see how anyone who had been sending disks flying all across the room a mere few hours ago was now casting spells with the accuracy of someone who had been doing this for years.

“Why, of course not. You saw how I was earlier.” Hook’s grin grows even wider as he adds, “It’s all because I had a wonderful teacher.”

You still frown at him skeptically, walking back towards the table where he stands. “I highly doubt it’s because of that. I mean, I don’t know if even I could pull something like that off with such little practice.”

At this, Hook gives a little laugh. “What do they say, the student exceeds the teacher?”

You roll your eyes at him. “No, they call it ‘beginner’s luck.’ You should be happy you got it right this time, because you might not get so lucky on your exams.”

Hook grins again, and as much as you detest the pleasure he gets from teasing you—and though you’d never admit it—a small, dark gray part of you enjoys the playful banter between you two.

“That’s why I have you, darling. If I ever need more help, I’ll know who to run to.” He leans in close to you, so close, until his mouth is right next to your ear. You start having flashbacks to your previous experiences with Hook being in a close proximity, and the combined feelings from both your memories and his current actions causes your body to heat up in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He tilts his head down ever so slightly towards you, his lips feathering across your ear. “And you won’t be able to get out of helping me, my little goody-goody.”

Your mind is absolutely spinning at his words, his touch, his presence, his everything. You desperately struggle to formulate some sort of response, but just as you open your mouth, ready to question his choice of ring placement, a deep, low horn sounds, reverberating off the walls.

Curfew.

Hook breaks away from you as you glance down at your wristwatch. The clock shows exactly 10:00. Gods, how did the time pass by so quickly?

You glance back up at Hook, deciding to ignore the way he so alluringly whispered in your ear just seconds ago. “Well, uh, we have to get going, then,” you awkwardly say, scratching at your neck.

Hook stands there for a moment, staring at you whilst completely motionless, making you wonder what he’s thinking and what he’s planning to do. Just as you’re about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, he reaches his good hand out, grabbing your left one. He holds it delicately in his hand, his palm cupped upwards with your fingers resting gently on top.

Slowly, and while keeping his head up just enough to maintain eye contact with you the entire way down, he bends into a bow in front of you. Only does he avert his gaze when he finally reaches your hand, looking down at your ring, which still sits on your ring finger, as he places a kiss on the bright stone.

He peers back up at you, deep brown eyes wide and expressive.

“Until we meet again, m’lady.”

on to part 2! ->

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: the demons I had to fight to not name this "if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it" haha. anyways thanks for reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[restinslices]

Can you please do making out headcanons with the earth realm men pls 🙏

I feel like this is shorter than usual but I am actually in agony😀. My insides? Doing the Cupid Shuffle. My head? Pounding. My eyes? Burning. So much so I’m not rereading this or looking for gifs. You’re getting silly little pictures of these lovable idiots😭. Also I’m broke. I’m finna start charging y’all $50 per word (joking. Not about my agony tho)

Johnny Cage

Johnny gives me the vibe that he loves making out 

I already feel like he loves physical touch, so kissing is definitely something he enjoys 

Idk why but he gives me waist grabber vibes 

I feel like making out would happen very often with this man. He's very cheeky and once again, loves physical touch. 

I could see him grabbing his partner and pulling them aside even when he absolutely should not. Like on set or something 

Johnny can't take shit seriously. Making out wouldn't change this about him. 

Mid make out session he'd mention some make out scene he had in a movie, then gets surprised it kills the mood 

The type to think of some funny shit and start laughing while his tongue is in their mouth. Enough is enough Cage

Also an ass grabber, even if you ain't got nothing back there. He's grabbing onto smth 

It's very easy to move to something further with him 

Calls you a tease if you don't have sex after 

Kenshi Takahashi 

I don't think making out is something often that happens with him, but it's not rare

Unlike Johnny, he initiates it at appropriate times 

Both a face and waist grabber 

If you're sitting, he's the type to pull you onto him 

Idk how his sight works. Idk if it's only when he's fighting or he can always see now, but there was a time when he couldn't see at all, so I think now he takes passes just to look at you. He can also be very touchy for that reason. it's like memorizing you 

If I said he was a lip biter will y'all cheer or boo me?

 There's no rush with him. He actually savors and enjoys the moment with you 

Whether or not it goes further doesn't bother him 

Doesn't enjoy sneaky sessions in public because that means he has way less time with you 

He's romantic but not as romantic as Liu Kang 

Kung Lao

Him and Johnny are some assholes so I feel like they'd do similar stuff 

They both like physical touch, they both grab onto you, they both tease 

Kung Lao may tease more though. You know his ego. Making someone squirm makes him feel better 

Let's his hands wander wherever 

If you have any sensitive spots, his hands are there immediately 

Smirks while kissing because he can feel your reaction. The new timeline did not change how cocky he is 

 Doesn't mind making out in public. His shame is very little

He pulls away sometimes just to see you pull him back in

Gets a kick out of how needy you are for him 

Teasing is such a big thing with him but you tease him and he has to be factory rebooted

I think he'd want it to go further but if you're like “nah” he's not gonna flip a table. He might whine a bit though 

Raiden

Doesn't happen often 

I know y'all want me to slut everyone out but I don't think he's a slut. I'M SORRY 

Him, Liu Kang and Kenshi are romantics to me

Majority of the time it'd probably be you initiating it 

Face grabber 

He'd stop multiple times to make sure you're comfortable doing this still 

Public making out is not happening with him. I'm sorry. He's just not comfortable. Try it and he's gonna pretend he heard a noise and walk away 

Idk why but I feel like either him or Liu Kang are the type to whisper how pretty you are so imma put it down for both of them 

Shorter make out sessions than the other guys 

His hands don't move around as much. He's content with keeping them in one place 

I just feel like he's really sweet and intimate. He's not in a rush, he's not grabbing at you and tryna hurry to sex, he's just taking his time and enjoying the feeling of you against him 

Does not care about having sex afterwards and if it doesn't happen, he doesn't complain 

Liu Kang

Happens every once in awhile 

A romantic through and through. Do y'all see how he treats Kitana?

He is a face grabber but majority of the time he rests his hands on your lower back 

Prefers to take things slower like Raiden. Can he even get old and die? I don't think so. There's legit no rush 

Like I said for Raiden, he whispers how pretty you are and how lucky he is to have you in between kisses 

I can see him doing some corny shit like spinning you around. This man has been lonely for so long. He's not worried about being a cornball

Like Raiden I know y'all want me to slut him out but I don't sense slut. I'm sorry! If anything, he's a romantic slut. He cares way more about romance than tooting it up, yk?

Only in private places or when you're alone. He's supposed to look professional around others 

Not concerned about having sex after at all

Johnny thinks of dumb shit and laughs but I think Liu Kang would smile and laugh just because you're near 

Just a nice soft man

I have another request that imma post tomorrow or the day after just to spread shit out. Also why did I just find out people ship Kenshi and Mileena- isn’t she a lesbian?

Anyway if you see any errors, no you do not. Now I’m finna go suffer while listening to a video in a dark room ‘cause looking at a screen is killing me slowly.

[arysbruv]

Burn

You were a relatively newer student. You normally kept to yourself but you always dreamt of being friends with the main trio, especially with the infamous Suguru Geto. Yet, he always seemed to hate you, even when you openly showed you felt the opposite.

pairings: suguru geto x f!reader

warnings and whatnots: ITS GOJOVERR ‼️‼️ Reconciliation, fluff after angst because I feel bad. End of series!!

chapters!

Chapter 1 : are we still friends? Chapter 2 : can we be friends? Chapter 3 : Sorry, not sorry. Chapter 4 : Green looks good on you. Chapter 5 : Runaway. Chapter 6 : [CURRENTLY READING]

shoko 🚬 : y/n where are you?

shoko 🚬: y/n???

shoko 🚬: what happened r u okay?

shoko 🚬: why is suguru crying

bing!

suguru 💔: I’m sorry.

You glance at the notification, sniffling. You sat croucee on the toilet seat of a random cafe, eyes red from the hours crying. A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Taken..” You croak out, voice hoarse from the crying.

“y/n, it’s me, Shoko…”

The soft and caring voice wills your legs to move and opens the door. Shoko stands in front of you, concern evident in your eyes. She scans your body, a small sigh leaving her as she hugs you. You melt in her embrace.

•

“She ran away?!” Satoru asks incredulously, watching his friend pace around the hotel room. Suguru moved about, wiping his eyes that stung from the harsh rejection he just earned.

How stupid! He was an idiot to think that the girl he was mean to for months would suddenly accept his love confession. What was this; An enemies to lovers book?

“Why? Oh god why did I say that?” Suguru mumbles to himself, finally sitting down on the bed beside Satoru, head in his hands.

bing!

the OGS

shoko 🚬: we’re in the hotel room

shoko 🚬: y/n’s a mess.

shoko 🚬: Good news, y/n likes you! bad news, she’s scared to admit it because she accidentally rejected you.

Suguru reread the message, over and over again, the phone in his hand almost breaking from the strength of his grip. Satoru takes his phone, reading the message so it properly processes in Suguru’s head.

“Congrats, she likes you!” Satoru says, tilting his head, waving the message in Suguru’s face.

Suguru didn’t know what to say. He grabs the phone from Satoru, earning a scowl from him.

“What do I do? She didn’t ruin anything!” Suguru says almost loudly, shocked eyes trained on Satoru.

Satoru’s eyes glimmered, a plan formulating in his mind. A smirk gathered upon the white haired boy’s face. He stands up, grabbing the car keys from the bedside table, he walks to the door, peering over his shoulder to see Suguru still sat on the bed. He sighs, giving a smile to the long haired boy.

“Come on, let’s go shopping.”

•

“Where are we going?” You ask Shoko as she brings you down the cold street. You shiver.

Shoko doesn’t answer you, her steps getting faster as she rounds the corner. You frown. Was she leading you to a bar? Was she suggesting for you to drink your problems away? Wouldn’t be that much of a surprise since she drowns out her own issues with smokes. Maybe you did need a drink, just to get away from everything and everyone.

After the whole fiasco pertaining to Suguru Geto, you quite literally wanted to run away and never face him again. If it meant going to learn with Nanami and Haibara in the class below you, that would be what you would do. At least they wouldn’t shame you for something like falling in love. A part of you longed to be with him yet you were weary fo his intentions. Did he truly love you?

Suguru watched from inside the cafe as you came closer. Flowers in hand. Roses, plain but he thought maybe you would like something plain and basic in the world of chaos and unknowns. Yet, just to be sure he also put a few of your favourite flowers in the bouquet. He heard you mention it to Shoko once as you all walked past a flower garden when you first came to Jujutsu High. He wiped his hands on his pants, glancing at Satoru who sat at the side, giving him a small thumbs up.

He hoped this work. He didn’t understand why he was trying so hard to win your affection but what he knew was that he wanted you and wanted to be yours. If it wasn’t him, he didn’t want it to be anyone else.

You rounded the corner, trailing behind Shoko like a lost puppy. He tilts his hand. Even after crying for seemingly hours, you were still gorgeous.

He gulps. What if you were too good for him?

”Suguru?” You say as you enter the empty cafe, Shoko quickly bee-lining to Satoru who sat at the side. The cafe was void of noise, you could hear the crickets from outside. It was cozy and small, only one worker behind the counter. You recognised them. Nanami?

Your eyes finally properly land on him, taking in his full appearance. His outfit was different from the one this morning, it looked cleaner and more formal. A black button up shirt tucked into straight cut black pants. His hair neatly combed back. He looked so handsome. A tint of red starts forming on your face as you stare at him, failing to notice the flowers in his hands.

Embarrassment runs through you. Crap. Was he here to talk about the whole rejection thing? Truth be told, you didn’t know why you ran. You wanted to say that you liked him too but you couldn’t help but feel that maybe he was just joking around or prancing you. Yet, he looked so… genuine.

”y/n.” The sound of your name in his golden voice snaps you back to reality. You look to see he has gotten closer to you, close enough that you could notice his breathing pattern. Close enough that you could see the flowers in his hand tremble and shake slightly.

Flowers?

Your eyes glance over them. Roses, mixed in with a few of your favourites. How had he known your favourite. Did Shoko tell him? No, she had been with you for the whole time. You bet Satoru didn’t even try to remember what your favourite were so how did he know?

“y/n, I am here to lay down my heart to you and hope you accept it.” Suguru randomly says, bringing your attention to his face. He cringes at his own words.

His eyes slightly widen upon eye contact. Suguru’s neck starts heating up as his eyes meets you. Why was this so hard? He practiced this with Satoru.

“For the past few months, we have never been on the best of terms. It is true that I found you to be annoying and too clingy at times. Yet as I began to become closer to you, I realise that there was no one else I’d like to annoy me and cling to me,” He trails off, averting his eyes. He inhales, taking in a breath.

“You are as the Sun, something one truly cannot appreciate until they are gone and unfortunately, I have seen you gone before.” His eyes finally come back to yours, softening as he sees your eyes that were laced with confusion.

“Thus, again, I ask you, to please consider going on a date with me.” Suguru hands you to bouquet of flower, a rush of blood hitting his face.

You stare at him then at the flowers. Slowly, you will your hands to take it. Your face felt hot as you grabbed onto the stems of the flowers, covering your face slightly with the buds. You look back at Suguru.

He had just confessed to you, for the second time.

“Suguru, I-…” You started, unsure of what to say. Suguru smiles softly at you, the most soft and caring expression strung upon his face. It hit you like a truck.

He liked you.

You liked him.

“I’d love to go on a date with you.” You whisper quietly, looking to the side. You cringe, realising he might have not heard you as he remained silent. You slowly bring your eyes back to him, only to see him try and suppress a giant grin from forming on his face. He moves closer to you, hands on your shoulder.

“Thank you, love.” He says slowly, whispering in your ear. Your blood rushed. He moves back, smirking at you. You stare at him expectantly.

“So… are we done yet?” Satoru finally asks, breaking the silence, earning him a shove from Shoko. He stands up, glaring at her and stretching. Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru. He would scold him but after the immense help from him, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Yes Satoru, we are done,” You say sweetly to him, a small smile coaxed on your face.

You look back at Suguru, who smiles at you as he watches Shoko and Satoru walk out the cafe. He moves towards you, grabbing your free hand. His fingers intertwining with yours.

“Thank you for giving me a chance.”

[daengtokki]

Hey 👋🏻 saw your recent post about wanting to write about seungmin fluff, and I honestly could use some fluff to feel better myself so I wanted to suggest a noona!reader x seungmin fluff where they both like each other (are close friends) but reader thinks they only see her as a sister and not romantically (and vice versa) until the other members convince seungmin to confess and well the rest is up to you really :) personally I feel that he’s the type to sing to their crush or maybe bring them a cute plushie, inviting them on a coffee date, etc

Whether or not you choose to write this, I hope you feel better~ ❤️‍🩹

𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹

©ˢᶜᵃʳˡᵉᵗᵇˡᵒˢˢᵒᵐ

────────────────────✦

Kim Seungmin/noona!reader

wc: ~5k

rating: flufffff -`♡´- (friends to lovers/idiots to lovers ( thank you @wulfgaang ) Felix and IN plotting, music for you to listen to while you read)

comments: I'm sorry this took so long anon! I started writing and just kept on writing and I couldn't stop so I eventually had to force myself to stop. I tried to edit a little but uuuhhh bshxbhscs

──────────────♡───♡─✦

He's so bad at writing a text to you that doesn't sound...off. He hates sounding too casual, which is exactly how he should be sounding, and how you expect him to sound. But he hates it. He huffs and slides down into the couch, eyes flit up every so often to the open space in front of him.

Seungmin catches sight of himself in the mirror across the room, then he sees Felix eyeballing him. And then Felix smiles.

"What?" He pulls himself up and folds his knees to his chest, looks down at the message thread on his screen...rereads your last text.

I like your hair the shade it is right now

It's nothing. It's a benign little observation on your part, but his stomach swirled the moment he read it. Now he can't think of what to say back. His thumbs freeze right above the screen, and his eyes go blurry as he stares.

Seungmin doesn't have time to reply, though, because he sees you typing again. The little dots bounce around for what seems like forever, and then they stop. Felix moves closer and sits down next to him. Then you're typing again. Typing and typing...

"Are you talking to your noona?" he whispers and tries to peek at his phone, but Seungmin pulls away.

"She's not my noona."

"Well, she never texts me. What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing..."

"Exactly! You two always seem to talk about nothing...every day."

Finally, a message comes through. And it's not nearly as long as the length of time it took to type.

are you free for lunch today? Probably not, but I'm cold and want to get some yukgaejang

No, he's not exactly free, but he's going to make himself free. Seungmin hasn't had the chance to see you face to face for almost a month. Yes, almost a month. Three weeks and three days, actually. And you were only in the building for a few hours that day, because you travel too much for work. Seungmin hates that. And he hates wishing you had a position that didn't travel at all. It's always in the opposite direction that he's going.

"I'm breaking our lunch plans." Seungmin says it so flatly and definitively.

"Fine. Only because I know you're making plans with her. Maybe ask her out properly this time, before she leaves again."

"I'm not going to ask her anything... she'll laugh at me."

Felix has no reply for that, but the stinkface he gives Seungmin says everything for him.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You stare at yourself in the mirror for far too long. The way you think you look won't change, and the way you're dressed isn't going to magically make him fall in love with you. Besides, it's cold out, and he'll pick on you if you dress more for looks than warmth.

His text message comes through, finally. You feel bad asking him, because you know he's busy, but he loves to eat and it always seems to be the best way to get him alone.

I just have to change, I'll be ready when you get here

And it's stupid, but you like driving him around; the way he plays with the music, and the way he sits back in the passenger seat and stares right at you. He always let's you know when you pass a dog going on a walk, and he loves to tell you that you drive too fast. Or too slow.

There was hardly any traffic on the way in, so you sit and stare at your phone for several minutes before texting again. You're certain he's ready—it doesn't take long to throw on a pair of sweatpants and run out the door, but getting here too fast and seeming too eager makes you feel silly. You rub at your warm cheeks and sigh, wondering if you're mentally prepared to see him again, need to kiss him, do nothing, say nothing, and then part ways for another few weeks.

A soft knock on the window makes you jump, and when you look to your right, he's there, smiling and waving.

"Sorry, I was just about to text."

Seungmin climbs in and stares at you for a moment. "I saw you pull up, are you okay?"

"I'm okay..."

"You looked worried."

He's too observant. and he's clever as hell (sometimes). You're surprised he hasn't figured you out yet, but...he's probably just avoiding it if he does know. He doesn't want you to feel awkward. Seungmin is too young for you, you think. You have no business feeling this way about someone a decade your junior, and he's not going to be interested when he's surrounded by so many pretty girls his age.

"You still look worried." He buckles his seatbelt and adjusts himself so he can look directly at you.

"Uh...just jetlag probably. And I haven't eaten yet."

"We better hurry then."

You look him over quickly as you shift gears and check the gps on your screen. He's not in his usual overly comfortable sweats, instead he's wearing cargo pants, and just a t-shirt under his North Face jacket. You hope he's warm enough, but when he reaches forward and bumps up the heat, you know he probably isn't.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"It's gonna be too spicy," he smiles and watches you take a bite. A cautious bite, because he's right, but you won't admit it. You like the spice, and he likes watching your face turn red as you slowly make your way through the bowl.

His chopsticks dive into it and grab a much bigger bite than yours.

"Get your own," you shoo him away and sip your tea, trying not to be too obvious that your whole body is on fire. With the spice, and with thoughts of him. His lips are red and swollen from the little bit of heat in his food, from the heel of his hand rubbing at them. This is about the time when your thoughts get overwhelming...so overwhelming, you think you could confess everything all in one breath—his big dewy eyes, flushed cheeks (both from the food, of course), big t-shirt hanging way too precariously from his shoulder.

"Too spicy," he chases it with his rice and scrunches up his face, "How can you eat so much of it?"

"Punishment."

"Punishment??" Seungmin looks at the text on his phone. It's not Felix this time. Felix has already sent several, asking him if he's made it official yet. This time it's Jeongin, no doubt out to lunch with him, acting up as well.

did you dress nice for her?

"Why would you need to be punished?" Seungmin blushes as soon as the words come out of his mouth. It's not just the soup making him so warm. He glances up at you and tries not to smile too awkwardly.

"Where should I begin...being lazy, breaking plans with friends, ghosting bad dates instead of telling them I'm not interested."

"Do you go on a lot of bad dates?" He sits up and clears his throat, "I mean...dates. You never mentioned that before."

His phones buzzes again. This time it's Felix.

simp

A quick glance around the restaurant reveals he and Jeongin are not actually there and listening in on them, but he wouldn't be surprised.

"I wouldn't say a lot. Uh...I'm always very careful, don't worry."

Seungmin nods and struggles to keep his face neutral. He's not concerned, he's jealous. "You're not lazy, you work very hard."

"Just too much. Sometimes I want to change jobs, stay home more. Use my apartment."

"You should," he replies so fast that you stop eating and look at him.

"I should?"

"If that's what you want, uhm...you should always do what feels right." He busies his mouth with his drink, taking slow sips and peeking at you over the rim. "I'm glad we work at the same company, though, otherwise I would have never met you." He wonders if that was too much, so he stares stupidly at the chopsticks in his hand.

"No, we probably wouldn't have met. And you're a—"

He looks up at you before you finish.

"Uh..." you should say it, you should say anything as long as it's a little bit romantic. There are so many things you've thought of already, and you have said them in your head...during your endless daydreams. When you're trying to sleep and can't, or when you open your eyes in the morning and pretend he's there in front of you, sleeping soundly.

"...you're a good friend, Seungmin."

Idiot.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Another outing with Seungmin, and another tick on your failure box. You felt awkward, and you probably made him feel awkward. You can’t relax around him anymore. Maybe he does really know that you like him, and he just doesn't want to ghost you the way you ghost your dates. He's too good and sweet to do that, and he's too good for you.

A little part of you wants to text one of the others; one of his dormmates, his closest friends, just to see if asking him out would be a horrible mistake. But you can't. If the answer yes, it's a mistake, and then they tell him? They would absolutely tell him. You might as well mess this up on your own.

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

"That's what you wore?" Jeongin looks at him, eyes narrow, lips pursed.

He and Felix make it home first, and they both look at him anxiously when he walks through the door. Well, Jeongin looks at him anxiously, and then tsks at the casualness of his outfit.

"It's less casual than normal."

"It's not going to convince her that you'll go all out for her, though. You gotta give her your best!"

"I don't think my outfit is going to make her suddenly fall in love with me."

"No, but if you tell her how you feel..."

"I'm not ruining what little friendship we have."

"But—"

"No."

"Kim Seungmin!" Felix yells. "If you don't talk to her like a big boy, I'll be forced to tell her myself."

"You wouldn't...please don't say anything, Yongbok. Please..."

"She likes you...maybe even more than you like her."

"How would you even know that, has she told you herself?" Seungmin finally pulls his jacket off, kicks off his shoes, and sulks to the kitchen for a drink.

"No, but I've had to sit through more than one meal with you two... dancing around each other, blushing if you end up sitting shoulder to shoulder, her sneaking little glances when you're not looking."

"She does?" he sips his milk in an attempt to get the lingering spice out of his mouth. "She looks at me?"

"Stares at you. Watches every little move you make. It's annoying, and very cute. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

"Sing her a song!" Jeongin pipes up from behind his monitor. "Invite her to dance practice, keep her around after everyone leaves...sing for her."

"That is..." Felix thinks. Seungmin rolls his eyes and groans loudly in the background. "...very cheesy, but I don't think it's a terrible idea."

"Sunday! I'll even invite her to come watch, you just have to do the rest." Jeongin is very proud of himself for thinking all of this up. "I know her, too...remember? I'll make sure she's in town, and you figure out what song you want to woo her with.”

Seungmin hates the idea. He’s already starting to get nervous eating in front of her. Now he has to practice? And sing? Sing something romantic? The logistics of all of this are escaping him, too. How will they be left alone there? If someone sees them—him singing, her standing awkwardly until he finishes. He already wants to climb into a hole just thinking about it.

“Close to You!” Jeongin cups his cheeks in his hands and smiles. “She blooms beautifully in your dreams, when you close your eyeesss,” he sways back and forth.

“No, no I’m not doing it. And you can’t make me.”

“We can’t, but we can still invite her to come on Sunday. Tell her we have some new stuff to work on, she’ll enjoy it.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You can’t say no to Jeongin, ever. He was so excited to invite you to dance practice, and you’ll actually be home, so…why not. No pressure. It’s getting to see Seungmin from a distance, or maybe not from a distance. And you love watching them act up together. Seungmin invited you once, a while ago, but you couldn’t make it, and for some reason he never asked again.

But seeing him twice in the same week is a nice treat. You just hope he’s glad to see you there.

-

Han sees you and greets you first. Then you see Changbin and Felix by a snack table, bickering about something. Felix sees you out of the corner of his eye, waves, and smirks a little. He mouths something to you, and you think he says you look nice…so you just smile back. You did put in some extra effort this morning, but you still tried to be casual. Seungmin likes casual, and he told you once, a long time ago, that he liked your style.

One of the entranceways seem like the perfect place to observe for now. Nobody is here, and you’re a little nervous about being in anyone’s way. You lean back against the wall, making yourself as small as possible, and look for Jeongin. But he’s nowhere.

Seungmin, though, is within view. His back is to you, and he’s way on the other side of the room, but you know it’s him—you would know his back and shoulders just by touch if it came to that. And you really wish it would come to that. The rest of him is swimming in a pair of dark gray sweatpants.

You hold your breath and wait for him to turn.

“Noona! Hi hi.” You jump out of your skin. It’s Jeongin.

“Innie!” You punch his shoulder, and he laughs. “Quit sneaking.”

“I wasn’t sneaking, you were just too busy staring.” He looks to Seungmin, who is now turned your way. And walking in your direction.

“Staring at what?,” you say as you continue to stare. He gets closer and closer. You can feel the distance closing between you. It’s getting warmer in the room.

“So it is true…Felix is right.”

“Huh? What is Felix right about?”

"Is Innie bothering you?" Seungmin says. He doesn’t look at you, though, just at Jeongin.

“Hmmm…I think I’m being called.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Seungmin looks behind him, behind you, and then back to Jeongin. “Better go, though.”

He looks irritated when you’re finally able to lift your gaze, but not really irritated—just like he’s holding back an eye roll. Seungmin folds his arms and hugs his hoodie to his chest, and then he finally…finally, looks at you. His face softens. You could melt, but you try to keep your composure.

This wasn’t always an issue. Seungmin always makes you feel warm and stupid when he’s around, and he has since the day you met him, but it used to be easier to be relaxed around him. And fun. You figured this would pass and you’d realize you were just crushing on him; lusting after him—daydreaming about kissing him and his braces, undressing him slowly in your mind and wondering exactly what he looked like under all of those clothes. But it never passed. It grew and grew into this monster that sits on your chest and takes your breath away.

“YN?” He crouches down so he can get your attention. “Noona?” He whispers. Seungmin doesn’t usually call you Noona, not like everyone else does. He calls you by your name, because you asked him to. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like that…just needed to snap you out of your daydream.”

“I wasn’t…hmm, I’m sorry. Hi Seungmin.”

“Hi,” his face falls a little. “Are you staying, or just passing through?”

“I’m staying.“

“Good. It’s chilly in here, I thought you might want this.” He hugs his hoodie closer to his chest and smiles. "Gotta keep the heat down so we don’t pass out, I guess.”

“Will you be mad if I take it home and forget to give it back?”

His giggle makes your head swim. “No, not at all. Actually…”

Before he can finish, Chan calls out and the floor starts to clear. He looks back, and then to you again. “Hold that thought,” he unrolls it, shakes it, and throws it around you like a cape before running off.

The scent of him overwhelms you, and your head is swimming again. Everything is swimming. Now you just want to curl up in your bed with it and fall asleep.

-

For the first time in years, Seungmin is nervous standing on the dance floor. He knows he’ll be fine—everything will fall into place once things get started. But if what Felix said is true, your eyes are on him, and only him. All the time. But you must be good at doing it only when Seungmin isn't looking. He has never once caught you staring.

He glances around the room, swings his arms, rolls his shoulders. You’re there in the same spot, his hoodie still draped around you. And yes, you’re watching him.

-

The time goes by fast, even though you’re just a spectator, and you know it’s because you might not see him again for a while once this ends. You’ll go back to your casual texts, hopefully a little each day. You’d lose your mind if you had to go longer than that without hearing from him.

The more you think about it, the more you think getting the confession over with might be the best idea. You can’t exactly go on like this forever. The rejection will crush you, but with time, you’ll have to move on. That’s just what happens. The hurt goes away, eventually.

“Hey you,” Felix pops up next you and gets your attention. “You’re staring really hard. Really really hard.”

“What?” You finally pull yourself away from Seungmin, “I was? Wait…what?”

“Seungmin is going to have a hole burnt into him if you keep that up.”

You feel flushed, even though Seungmin was right about the cold, “please tell me only you saw me.”

“Probably, everyone else seems pretty preoccupied. But be careful. Unless you plan on confessing.”

Is Felix reading your mind? You bury your face in your hand and sigh.

“Don’t look so sad. Keep looking…carefully.”

You’re an idiot. And you daydream too much. Your life is nothing but work, sleep, and a constant string of thoughts about being with him.

“Felix?” You stop him just as he starts to walk away. He smiles at you, There is usually a twinkle in his eye, but it’s even more intense right now.

“Yes, noona?”

Seungmin turns and makes eye contact, but looks away almost immediately.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“Oh hey, don’t leave too early. Innie and I have something we need to give to you after we finish up.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Everyone left. But you’re sitting on the couch, curled up in a ball, warm under Seungmin’s hoodie. Felix said stay, so you’re staying, but you don’t know what he and Jeongin could possibly have for you.

You wonder if Seungmin will come back for his hoodie. Watching him walk out of the room was a little bit heartbreaking, because he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t wave. He didn’t look your way.

-

“What am I supposed to do now? You have her waiting in there, alone, and she doesn’t know wh”

“Felix told her we had something for her, and we do.” Jeongin holds his arms up to Seungmin, palms up, like he’s presenting him. “It’s you.”

Seungmin buries his face in his hands and groans, “you still want me to go in there and sing and embarrass myself?”

“You don’t have to sing!”

“Okay, so just embarrass myself.”

Felix shakes his head, “please please pleeaaase, trust me. I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs if you don’t go sit on that couch with her right now. That’s all. Just sit there. Whatever happens after that is up to the two of you.”

“Fine. Just because I don’t want her sitting in there by herself.

-

The door clicks. You know it’s him as soon as his arm swings the door open.

“Seungmin?”

“Hi. What are you doing in here all alone?”

“Waiting…”

“Waiting for what?” He stands in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. Light gray this time—he’s showered and changed since you’ve been sitting here.

“I’m not sure.”

“Me, maybe. I’m sorry I left before without saying anything.”

“It’s okay,” you smile. He’s here now, so it is okay.

Seungmin sits down next to you. He’s quiet, and he has no idea what to say now. Maybe he should just sing, because he would at least be able to succesfully string some words together. The silence and the echo here makes it even harder to speak, but at least he knows you’re truly alone together. This usually only happens in your car—windows up, music playing. “What’s your favorite song?”

“My favorite…Stray Kids song, or my favorite favorite?”

“Favorite favorite.”

You weren’t prepared for this, but you don’t have to think very hard. “In Your Eyes…” you look at him, wait, wonder why he wants to know, “by Peter Gabriel.” You played it in the car with him before, and it took a lot to keep from telling him everything right then and there as it played. But you didn’t. It played, uninterrupted, and both of you were silent the entire five and a half minutes.

“I remember that song.”

“You do?”

Seungmin nods and laughs, “it’s on half of your playlists. Yeah, I know it.”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Silence again. Seungmin is 100% winging this, but he does know where he’s going with it. Because he does want to sing for you.

“So I can practice it.”

You shift and look at him, his hoodie slips off of your shoulders and onto the couch. It takes several seconds of thinking, of gears starting to turn in your brain, and of your eyes jumping back and forth between his before you start to put a few pieces together.

“…and sing it for you,” Seungmin looks down at his fidgeting hands, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. You not replying immediately is stretching out like hours. How can he make this less awkward now? He can sing for you and not make it romantic, right? Just a nice gesture between good friends. Not that song, though. He wasn’t even sure you would choose a romantic song.

No, he’s in it and he’s not getting back out. “Please say something.”

“You wanna…sing for me?”

“I’m not very good at…talking about my feelings otherwise.”

“You can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything."

Seungmin leans forward and rubs at his face, and he buries it there in his hands. It’s a bad time to start losing his nerve, he’s too far in. “I can’t.” He feels the couch shift as you get closer, just close enough that your knee hits his. “It’s a lot.”

“It is a lot. I know.”

“You do?”

You want to grab him and make him look at you, but your body won’t allow it. It takes another long silence to finally get some of his attention. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are big and nervous.

“Yeah, too much to keep carrying around by myself.”

He doesn’t seem to be following you, because he still looks worried, upset. But you’re not helping—you weren’t ready for this, and you have no idea what to say. You’re bad at this kind of talk, too.

“Am I making you uncomfortable? And I messing everything up?”

“No, Minnie…I’m very comfortable sitting here with you right now. I could sit here with you all night.”

Now, finally, he turns and gives you his full attention, red faced and serious. His bottom lip is catching up, because he won’t stop biting down on it. You reach out and poke his chin, “don’t do that.”

He licks his lips and forces himself to stop, but now he’s not talking again. There’s eye contact, at least. And it’s intense…Seungmin doesn’t know how intense his stare can be. Maybe you’re supposed to finish this—he did start, and it was a pretty bold start.

“We should—”

A clatter outside makes both of you jump. Maybe you’re not as alone as you think, and in that case, you’re a little bit uncomfortable. It makes you feel better about what you were about to say.

“…we should go somewhere else to talk.”

♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It took no convincing for him to follow you closely on the walk outside. Silent. And inside the car, cold and dark, still silence. You could talk here—you’ve shared a lot in this car already, but it doesn’t feel right. You just want to take him home, get him warm, make him comfortable.

Seungmin is nervous. You know exactly what he was trying to tell you back there on the couch, but what you don’t know is how intensely he really feels, and if he’s willing to act on it the way that you are. You don’t want to risk scaring him away, but your desire for him has already reached its boiling point. Every minute without acting on it now is killing you.

He’s huddled down deep in his coat. You finally let out a sigh of relief when he leans forward to adjust the radio, and then he turns up the heat.

“Where are we going?” His voice is small and timid, not like him at all. It’s like his little bit of confession, the emotional exertion of finally telling you he maybe wants more, kicked his ass.

“My apartment.”

“I’ve never been to your apartment before.”

“Is that okay?

He sits up, and you can see him look at you out of the corner of your eye. “Yeah, of course.”

-

It’s already warm inside. The few lights you keep on while you’re out gives the small space a comfortable glow. It’s even better with a view of him shaking out of his coat, and carefully taking off his shoes. The apartment almost feels—

“…it’s cozy in here.” He says. You watch him walk further in, just a few steps, and look around. “And quiet, and warm.” The smile on his face is reserved, “just like you.”

“Like me?”

He nods, and his smile grows a little more. “Yes, you’re quiet, usually. And you’re always warm. And I’m sure you’re very cozy, too.”

“That sounds more like you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called warm…but—”

“I guess you’re only like that with me.”

You can tell he’s relaxing. He laughs, smiles fully, pushes his hair away from his eyes. More importantly, he walks further into your apartment, looks around again, and then sits on the couch.

“Do you want some tea? You’re probably starving. I can order something, there are a few places close by that are fast.”

“Yes, and yes…but there’s no hurry…uhm, let’s have some tea.”

-

“It’s probably too hot, be careful.” You finally sit down next to him. Close. Closer than you were earlier, and definitely closer than you’ve ever been out to dinner, or lunch, or anywhere.

Seungmin turns toward you. His face is right there, inches from yours. His eyes and his lips, his breath. His eyes are moving between yours and jumping everywhere, like he’s taking all of you in from this distance. Part of you wants to back up, because you haven’t seen in a mirror in hours. But you can’t. He’s a magnet. You think (hope) he wants you to keep pushing forward, and that’s exactly what you do.

It’s as satisfying as you knew it would be. He’s as soft as you imagined, and as sweet. It’s a shy kiss on his part, but you kind of expected that, as well. You like it like that, because he’s taking his time. But you also need a little more, so you take over.

Your hand slides across his neck. He lets you pull him closer, and he doesn’t shy away when you open up and bite down gently on his lower lip. A soft sound escapes him and floats right down your throat, and it makes your knees shake against his.

A knock on the door interrupts right as you feel his hand graze your leg. Seungmin lets go and pulls back, just enough to open his eyes and look at you. “Thank you for getting me dinner,” he says, and he leans into you again until your lips touch.

“…Seungmin.”

“Hm?”

You don’t even know what you were going to say—if you were going to say anything at all. It just feels good saying his name out loud.

“Mm…nothing.”

“Was that okay? The kiss, I mean. I know my braces probably get in the way.”

“No, they don’t…not at all. It was very okay.”

He kisses you again, this time with more confidence. You can feel his smile grow when you grab his arm and pull it around you. And you can feel his braces brush against your lips. He notices, and jumps back.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve waited a long time for this.” You pull him back, and set your lips on his cheek.

“How long?”

“Oh…lemme think,” you pretend to think for a moment, but you don’t need to. You remember exactly when you first saw him and wanted to kiss him. “It was October, last year.”

“That long? Why didn’t I know? It feels like everyone else knew.”

“Nobody else knew. I never told anyone, I thought it was silly, maybe a little inappropriate. You just turned twenty when we met.” You pull away now, and sigh as you fall back into the couch. It sounds even worse when you hear it out loud.

“I don’t think it’s silly. I’m old enough to know what I want.” Seungmin grabs your hand and pulls you back up to him.

“So why me?”

Seungmin thinks, “because you’re cozy and warm,” he smiles, “and you make me laugh.”

“That’s it?”

He laughs again, and it’s so sweet and relaxed and melodic. “I’m comfortable with you, and you’re always there when I need you.”

“That’s nice to hear, considering you don’t act like you need anyone…ever.”

Seungmin goes quiet. He always puts up a strong front, because he doesn’t really know how to act any other way. He's not as cold and quiet as he appears on the outside, and he tries very hard to never come off that way to you.

“Just assume I always do.”

“Always what?”

“Always need you.”

[artisticxlly]

My thoughts while rereading chapter 351 (an unhinged post)

Spoilers and also ig dark themes?, nothing out of the ordinary though compared to the panels I'm discussing here.

I thought: You know what, since I'm growing increasingly attached to Sachirou and Kourai, might as well read the most bittersweet chapter again for shits and giggles. And I have some THOUGHTS for you all.

I'll come back to this later but just putting this here to acknowledge that Sachirou watched Kourai play for a little bit

this little guy is so important actually. Why is he so round. What is wrong with him. /aff

Moot also pointed this out but he's always alone in these panels??? Just him and volleyball against the world lol, which isn't all that different to Sachirou's behaviour now that I think about it.

Coming back to my first point. Both of them acknowledge each other, and both do it veeeery briefly. Like these two baaaarely know each other as far as we know, and yet this next scene is so crazy when you think about it from a vulnerability standpoint. What do you mean you stopped him from hurting himself and you immediately had a deep conversation about it??? Oh you two make me so ILL.

YOU MAKE ME SICKKK. SICK I TELL YOU. NO MOMENT OF HESITATION??? NONE??? I actually despise the addition of the other teens his age just casually walking home from school while he does that. Like this is, in his eyes, just a normal thing. This just made sense to him??? "I hate my hands, they're the reason I mess up" to "I'll just destroy them on the nearest wall". Fuck it, sure.

This is the most bittersweet thing ever. Gahhh...

Have we stopped to think about what this implies though. Because I am. The panel of just Sachirou is zoomed in but you can't see Kourai anywhere on it. And I'm just sitting here thinking "So he had to sprint there, right?" and ughhhh, Kourai you give so many fucks??? (/hj) I have this suspicion (or hc I guess?) that he watched Sachirou out of the corner of his eye a looot, just getting this feeling like there's something wrong/going on with him.

Throughout the chapter you just see Sachirou being constantly dissatisfied with his achievements and pouring himself into his training to try and fix it, make less and less mistakes. For over half the chapter his eyes are just this blacked out void. Why do I have a feeling that Kourai picked up on that and was just this teensy bit worried curious and spied on Sachirou? Very subtly, because he didn't care, nooo, not at all (/s). Idk just a thought, because he was crazy quick to stop Sachirou. Obviously he's a very blunt person but he also probably had no idea how to have a heartfelt conversation like that with someone (which ended up being the harsh reality check Sachirou needed).

Kourai Hoshiumi, the man who will read the fuck out of you and then in the same breath drops the gayest shit imaginable. I love this so fucking much though. Absolutely the last thing anyone expects someone to say after witnessing someone self harm and yet so unbelievably real. Asa taught him well, truly.

WOw, just... No thoughts in that brain, huh /j Bug-eyed mf (He's just a baby,,, ughhh)

Again... "tall, strong and super-tough body" WE GET IT. (/lh) Honestly though if I got props from Kourai like that I'd evaporate on the spot.

Gorgeous panel aside, I really like their matching haircuts LMFAO. I have a feeling both just hated dealing with their hair texture growing up.

Anywayyyy uhh long post over. All /lh btw, I do love these two idiots a lot.

[purplebunnyreads]

👾Radio Silence👾 by Alice Oseman

“It’d take hours to explain,” I said.

“I’d listen to you for hours,” he said.

“Being friends with Aled made me feel like I’d never had a real friend before, ever.”

“I couldn’t quite believe how much i seriously loved Aled Last, even if it wasn’t in the ideal way that would make it socially acceptable for us to live together until we die.”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because I’m an angel.”

“You are.” He stretched out his arm and patted me on the head. “And I’m platonically in love with you.”

Oh, to have a friendship like theirs.

Alice Oseman understands me on a fundamental level. Reading this book, especially the first half of it, felt like someone had invaded my soul and put it on paper. I related to Aled and Frances more than I’ve related to any characters possibly ever. Put them together so they are one person, and they are me. You wouldn’t be able to spot a difference.

Here are some quotes from the book that I especially related to:

“You’re an idiot,” said Mum, when I relayed to her the entire situation on Wednesday. “Not an unintelligent idiot, but a sort of naive idiot who manages to fall into a difficult situation and then can’t get out of it because she’s too awkward.”

“Yeah, he’s that sort of person.”

“What sort of person?”

“The sort of person who doesn’t speak spontaneously.” She folded her arms. “Who won’t say anything if you don’t ask.

“Honestly, I need to stop being scared of being a normal teenage girl.”

“Long ago, I was afflicted with a terrible predisposition to never say a word, and I honestly cannot understand why or how that happened.”

I love this book more than I can put to words. Even though I literally just reread it, I'm itching to read it again. I think it's my favorite of Alice Oseman's books. Maybe even one of my favorite books of all time. If I could give it more than 5 stars, I would.

If you liked anything else Alice has written, if you are/grew up a weird, quiet, fandom-obsessed kid with a minimal amount of friends, or if you're tired of only seeing romance in the YA genre and are looking for a book that centers around a platonic relationship instead, then please, please, PLEASE read this book.

“Art reflects life,” said Carys. “Or… Maybe it’s the other way round.”

[kekstala]

Outside of the very very iconic sweet and sour dipplins, do you have any other fics your a big fan of?

I have a lot of fanfics that I enjoyed a lot and still do.

I'll only cover Dipplinshipping tho, so if you want to know more, feel free to ask again. <3

Blossoming Into Tomorrow by @furretd0ll

It’s an adorable time skip story about Kieran & Juliana getting married and facing the challenge of parenthood.

The story gives those fluffy family vibe feels, a troop I enjoy a lot!

I have already created fan art, because I absolutely love this story. <3

Playing Pretend by @esp3onsol

For a certain reason, Kieran & Juliana make a deal to pretend that they're dating each other for a while.

They‘re practically obvious idiots in love, which results into a lot of awkward moments.

It‘s hilarious and cute at the same time, I love it <3

Part 1 & 2 of the ogre‘s savaltion and the tides that set them free by lillisandme

Like the title tells, it’s a two part story - first party plays immediately after the Terapagos fight. Kieran & Juliana have a heart to heart talk which results in Kieran reflecting his feelings.

The second part takes place several years later, Kieran visits Juliana in Paldea to spend some time with her.

It‘s quite long but also very well written - I really like how the characters are fleshed out in there.

Woodworking AU by MissTreason

It‘s a story splitted into 4 one shorts - Instead of pursiuing a battle carrier, Kieran decides to step into the footsteps of his grandfather and starts to learn to crave masks.

The plot starts at Blueberry and ends up several years into the future. It‘s mainly from Kieran point of view and how his feelings change over time.

It‘s fantastic written and you just want to know what happens next.

Although I have to give a warning about the fourth part - it‘s….very spicy….

So if you‘re an minor or doesn‘t stomach this kind of things, better ignore this entry completely 

If you in fact doesn‘t mind at all, enjoy that kind of stuff even, then congratulation, you‘re a pervert…just like me 8D

Teal Mayhem by MurayamaTsuru

It‘s more or less an AU or a „What If“ where Carmine and Kieran switch places in the first part of the DLC.

So instead of Carmine and Juliana meeting Ogerpon for the first time, its Kieran & Juliana instead. 

It‘s an interesting concept and I love how it‘s being fleshed out so far. (I‘m quite excited how the story will go from there :> )

Dipplinshipping Week 2024 - Day 2 AU by Kaylen_Go_Vee

This one‘s so random but also so cute lol

It‘s an oneshot about Juliana, a florist and Kieran, a tattoo artist who one day storms into her little shop to demand a bouquet of flowers. 

It sounds pretty boring and ordinary, but believe me its not LOL 

I sometimes catch myself rereading this story several times because it‘s just so cute and hilarious, I just can‘t oke xD I even debated whenever I should make fan art or not…probably will in the foreseeable future lol

Azure Dive by UndeadWitch

Like S&SD it takes place between the second part of the DLC.

Kieran got possessed by Dokupon (it‘s more or less Peachy, but very different) and Juliana tries to help him, while facing…well…school life lol

It‘s that kind of slow burn where you scream into your cushion out of frustration pff 

Although I have to say, I like this approach a lot. The story has time build itself and the characters go through some well deserved development as well.

Just bring some patience and you will love this piece of fantastic art quite a lot <3

That‘s about it (for the moment lol)

I recommend all of this stories if you enjoy Dipplinshipping like I do <3

Thank you so much for your ask! :D

[hoodlessmads]

Dark Heir spoiler thoughts:

Okay some of these are criticisms but please understand I really liked it! I liked it even more than Dark Rise. I’m just an overdramatic person and need to yell sometimes.

These don’t have any particular order, I’m just freestyling -

Reading Captive Prince years ago (and rereading since) before reading Dark Rise made me have an unfair resentment towards James for being basically the same character as Laurent but not as good and that continued here

Will is the second best character Pacat has ever made after Laurent and book 3 might push him ahead

I loved seeing Will use more and more of his evil powers

The best one being where he possesses anyone with a brand and his eyes turn black and he turns into Legion (maybe shoulda turned that off before trying to appeal to Violet…)

Finding out his mom actually was tying him to bedposts and beating him this whole time somehow shocked me because for some silly reason I believed one of the most unreliable third person subjective narrators ever, Will, that she was a nice lady just doing her best. Anyway I love this revelation because it makes such perfect sense, it’s just, “Oh. Of course.”

Violet and Cyprian are both himbos yet Violet is somehow the only character with a single brain cell left at the end of the book

Cyprian drinking from the cup makes no sense after they had a whole discussion in the first book about how drinking from the cup put the Stewards into the Dark King’s plans and made them his thralls and was the entire reason they died, a massacre which Cyprian experienced viscerally, and then he goes and drinks from the cup anyway and oops surprise Will can in fact enthrall him. Cyprian is able to fight it off but that doesn’t change the complete recklessness and out-of-character-ness of it to me.

Violet/Cyrprian is a good ship

Phillip/Visander is hilarious (in a good way)

Will/James is fine but I wish I was more compelled by them than I actually am. For being the main couple, I don’t feel like their relationship has been given the room it needed to develop organically and instead it feels like we’re falling back on physical attraction and a vague shadow of a past relationship in the old world that we didn’t get to see. It’s hard not to compare to Damen/Laurent which by contrast was developed so painstakingly.

Elizabeth is incredible

Visander sucks, actually

The whole Light kind of sucks. The Stewards, the Sun Kingdom, they were all assholes

People with black-and-white morality are truly terrible, aren’t they? And pretty much everyone is like that except for Will, James, and Violet

Sometimes I felt like that fact was really being hammered in on purpose almost as though to make James murdering like 300 people seem less bad (but it didn’t….)

But I don’t dislike James because he murdered 300 people, I actually love villains and I especially am attached to the idea of everyone being redeemable. But what I don’t like is the book telling me I should like James without giving me a good reason or the book downplaying his actions to make him seem more sympathetic. He can have murdered all the Stewards and still be compelling, we don’t need to diminish what he’s done in order for him to be likable

Also everyone in this book except like, Will and maybe Violet and James is an idiot (and I’ll excuse Elizabeth for only being ten). Someone send these characters to Psych 101, they don’t seem to understand the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy…

Like obviously if you tell someone they’re evil over and over again for their whole lifetime they will become evil

Theory - I don’t think Violet will turn on Will. I think she’s just shell-shocked. She wasn’t really given a chance to take a stance before James Peter Panned him away. Violet knows exactly what it feels like to be told you are evil because of some past thing, and she knows Will better than any of the other characters. And she knows that morality is not black and white (Tom is her brother). She’ll definitely end up in Will’s corner by the end.

Theory - The line of the Lady and the line of the Dark King are the same bloodline and they split off later. Sarcean’s “cataclysmic night together” with the Lady was mentioned not once but twice. Pacat doesn’t waste lines. The child that the Lady had was Sarcean’s, or at least one of them.

Will better figure out how to destroy that collar quick…before they both get even more traumatized. I think that will be one of his main goals in book 3. Or I hope…otherwise it will be hard to develop the genuine romance

I sure hope Will can also figure out how to expel that shadow from Cyprian before he like… dies. Don’t do that to Violet D:

So, I’m not a huge fan of YA in general (outside of YA anime and manga which for some reason hits different). I used to like it a lot, it used to be most of what I read. I grew up reading series like Redwall, Darren Shan, Demonata, Pendragon, and so on. But I’ve grown out of the genre (I’m 27). Not every adult does - one of my best friends who is a year older than me still really enjoys YA. But because I don’t like YA, I think my enjoyment of Dark Rise/Dark Heir is influenced and my criticisms may be unfair.

But I find that with fantasy series like this, I the books really need to be longer. Or there needs to be more of them. I feel like Dark Rise has so many moving pieces, enough characters that there could be a trading card game (and there are literally collectible cards), so many different magical artifacts and magical powers, an entire magical old world beneath the semi-magical 1820s Europe world to develop, and also by the way a whole story that took place 10,000 years ago that has to be told at some point. I find myself feeling like all these different elements are being introduced and moved on from too fast and I wish they were all given more time to breathe. I think that’s part of why the relationship between Will and James feels a bit rushed to me. I don’t know if the short length of the series was Pacat’s choice or an editor’s, though. I don’t feel like Captive Prince had this issue because there were no supernatural elements, the cast was much smaller, and the plot was comparably simple so a lot of it got to be characters just talking to each other, which was great, and the world building was accomplished mainly through these interactions. The plot and world of Dark Rise is much larger in scope but the page count is the same (a little longer maybe).

So wait who is Mrs. Duval

Why did Ettore leave the Stewards anyway? Other than the obvious, which is that they suck

Where was Grace during the whole ending scene? Wasn’t she there but just not saying anything. As this total calamity befalls her only remaining friend group she finally has seen too much and just nopes out and is busy making tea in the corner or maybe popcorn

I do really like Cyprian btw in spite of thinking his moral code is shitty. Gave Violet a chance but sold Will for one corn chip… I see how it is (okay that’s not fair but you know what I mean, he has flaws)

It sounds like I’m in the majority when I say that I still don’t like Devon - I saw that theory about him being the final big bad and I’m so on that train. I think he’d make a good enough final villain. I agree there is something predatory about him and Tom. I don’t necessarily think Pacat wants us to root for them as a couple, though. There were better ways to pull that off if that was the intent.

Not to repeat myself but Phillip was such a pleasant surprise. Like who is this fruit and how did he get here

So next book, I hope (assume) we get to see the rest of the old world story filled in so we can understand where it all went wrong for Sarcean and also the exact nature of his relationship with Anharion because so far it’s been quite vague (intentionally I assume). Like….. you know….. did he agree to put on the collar?

The tricky thing about this series is that once the reader learns that Will is the Dark King, it’s hard to maintain any sort of external tension. Right? It’s hard to feel afraid of the forces of the Dark when the protagonist has total effortless control over them just by virtue of who he is. Will can literally just be like, “No, don’t” and everything’s fine. He did just this at the end of Dark Rise. I find the way Dark Heir seems to end with their “only hope of stopping the Dark army” destroyed to be pretty unconvincing. Why on earth would Sarcean create a destructible object that is the only way of controlling his own army? Of course Will should be able to control them with his will alone. If he can control Shadow Kings and make them die with his words alone, why didn’t he try yelling at the shadow army to stop trying to possess people? This doesn’t make sense to me. And if people become Returners through his magic, shouldn’t he be able to exert some control over their existence the way he does with the branded? Pacat has done a good enough job at getting us to know Sarcean (an extremely good job btw) so as to make the destroyed brand plot point unbelievable. Anyway…

Instead, the tension in Dark Heir is almost entirely internal or realized in character relationships rather than physical threats. The tension is between Will and himself, and between Will and his friends. (There are tensions between other characters but focusing on the main plot here.) The possibility that they might find out and abandon him, and the possibility that he might actually be as nasty of a guy as Sarcean was, the slim chance that he might learn something that makes him go, “You know what, I agree with my past self after all.”

Now that everyone has found out who he is, that particular source of tension has sort of evaporated, so now in book 3 Pacat has to find a way to make Will’s conflict with himself and his friends compelling enough to carry us through 450 pages (I don’t expect this will be difficult). What I see as the problems now are 1) what was Sarcean actually planning and how did he plan on getting Will (himself) to fall in line with them (this was a question in Dark Heir as well but now it’s bigger), 2) how is Will going to destroy his own (Sarcean’s) Dark artifacts so he can free James, and 3) Can he convince anyone to ever love him (oh no ouch).

If I had to rank these books at this stage I’d probably give Rise a 3.7 ish…. and Heir a 4.2. I’m holding out for Dark King to be a 5 or close. (I don’t know what the actual title will be, I’m just guessing lol.) I definitely think Dark Heir is an improvement over Dark Rise since I always thought the most interesting part of the latter by far was everything that happened once Will learns he is the Dark King at the very end.

“Are we going to talk about the magic pseudo-sex scene—“ No and I hope we never will

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 15: Friends Don't Lie

If you need to catch up, here's the masterlist

Summary: After days of not talking, Jess figures she should apologize.

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Cursing, angst for sure, I think that's it? As always, if I missed anything, please let me know

Author's Note: I missed you guys :') I definitely feel out of practice so if this is shit I'm so so sorry

It had been days since Christmas Eve, and Billy had yet to come around the house. There were no taps on her window at night, no knocks on her door during the day. She hated how her room didn’t feel like hers anymore without Billy being there. She hated the way his absence made her feel. Only about a month ago, his not being here would have been welcomed. Jess would eagerly finish their shared assignment alone, hoping that Hargrove would stay away for the remainder of the break. But now? Now she was used to waking up with the blond boy sleeping on the floor by the foot of the bed. She was used to him griping about the movies she would put on, or about having to read a book he would never touch again. The thought of Billy made her reach slightly below her collarbone and fiddle with the necklace he had gotten for her for Christmas, reaching for the note that she now kept in her nightstand.  

Before you say anything 

yeah, I know the stupid horse isn’t in the book. 

It should be. 

But I saw this and thought of you anyway. 

Thanks for reading to me like a child

Merry Christmas Princess

-Billy

Jess sighed while rereading the note, remembering the argument they had over whether the Trojan Horse was in The Iliad or not. They were lying in her bed, as they had every night for a week before Christmas Eve. Billy had been throwing one of Jess’s stuffed bears up in the air like a basketball, catching it at his chest before passing it back to the imaginary person on the ceiling. 

“So when is that big ass horse in the book?” 

“Huh?” The question made Jess prop herself up on her elbow to look over at Billy. 

“You know. That thing they hide in to get into the city.”

“You know about the Trojan Horse?” 

Jess’s surprised tone caused Billy to pause his game of one-person catch, twiddling with the bear’s ear. “Jesus. How long is it gonna take for you to realize I’m not an actual idiot?” 

“I don’t think you’re an idiot! I’m just… it’s just cool you know about it,” Jess defends, giggling at the end. 

“So when is it in?” Billy threw the bear back up in the air again, a little too hard this time, causing it to bounce off the ceiling and back down aggressively toward Billy’s head, which he quickly dodged, catching it with his right hand. 

“It’s actually not.” 

“Bullshit.” He pauses tossing the bear up in the air again, propping himself up just as Jess had to look at her properly. 

“I’m serious. The book doesn’t make it to the end of the war.” 

“Then how the hell does everyone know about it?” 

Jess shrugs as much as she can with her free shoulder. “It’s in the next one I think.”

“The next what? Book?” 

Jess nods at his question, smiling at him as she raises her eyebrows. “Jesus. There’s another goddamn book?” His question made Jess laugh harder than she had earlier, leading to Billy feigning annoyance, rolling his eyes while giving her a lopsided smile. “Well, it should be in the fucking book we’re reading. That’d be badass.” 

“Why don’t you just read the other one after? It’s called The Odyssey. I have it here somew-“

“Fuck no! I’m barely getting through this one!”

Jess pushed her head farther back into her pillow, tossing the note back into its home, her other hand running over the golden horse that was attached to its matching, dainty chain. She had been wearing it since the night Billy handed her the small, wrapped package, and had only taken it off to shower and sleep, placing it atop Billy’s handwritten note anytime she did. She, however, made it a point to tuck the small horse away under the top she would wear, not wanting her parents to question her about her new gift. And when she saw Steve Harrington’s car pull up in her driveway yesterday afternoon, she hurriedly threw on the first turtleneck she could find, shamefully realizing at that moment this was why Billy Hargrove was mad at her in the first place. 

Jess looked over to the right side of the bed, Billy’s side. Even if he never actually slept there through the night, she slowly realized how she was now leaving room for someone on that side, no longer sleeping closer to the middle as she used to. She groaned as she lifted herself from where she was. Looking at herself in the mirror, she made sure that this time, the necklace was now untucked from her sweater and admired it for a moment before retreating downstairs to the kitchen. 

She was greeted by her mother, who was organizing the pantry with what she just brought home from the store a few moments ago. “Morning, hun.”

“Morning, Mom.” It was in fact no longer morning, but instead a little after one in the afternoon. By this time, Jess would have been up and about, either doing homework with Billy, or out with him getting lunch at Big Al’s, or maybe even out with Steve as they drove passed the new mall that was being developed. Jess and Billy drove by that mall all the time too, him joking about how it was going to be “super lame” because “which stores would actually want to develop here?” 

Instead, however, she had been in her room moping all morning, too stubborn to speak with him first, but coming to the realization that Billy was much more stubborn than she was. She and Steve barely ever fought, and even if they did, he was always the first to break the silence, coming to her first with an apology. Steve and her also never went days without talking like this. 

When Jess made her way passed her mother to the refrigerator, Mrs. Logan took notice of the necklace around her daughter’s neck. “Oh, that’s pretty. Is it new?” Mrs. Logan asked, now rotating the flour from the top shelf. 

“Uh, yeah…” Jess paused for a moment, retrieving 3 cranberry muffins from the fridge, and closing the door once they were secure in her hands. She hesitated for a moment more, looking down at what she could see of the necklace, and then looked back at her mother. “… Billy gave it to me for Christmas…” 

This made her mother pause what she was doing, her hands leaving the sack of flour so that her body could turn to face Jess more directly, being sure to look at the necklace once more.  “Well, it’s very pretty,” Beverly said with a knowing smile, causing Jess to shake her head, realizing this was the exact reason why she had been hiding the necklace away in the first place. “You know, I haven’t seen him around for a few days, which is… strange…” Beverly continued, “Everything alright?” 

“Yes, Mom. It’s not like he has to be here every single minute. And one of those days happened to be Christmas. So,” Jess snapped back.

“Okaaaaay. I’m just saying, he’s been here a lot recently…” She continued to give her daughter the same smile. 

“Mom. Please stop.”

“What? I’m just saying. He seems to enjoy being around here. That’s all.” 

“Steve’s here all the time too, Mom.” 

“Yes, that’s true…” She went back to fixing the flour. “But Steve got you that sweater for Christmas, hun, not a piece of jewelry.” 

Jess huffed at her mother’s quick response. “I should probably go.” 

“To Billy’s?”

“Mom.” 

Mrs. Logan only chuckled at her annoyed tone. “Really quick, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Steve and Billy, they’re not exactly friends, are they?” 

“Yeah… not exactly.” Jess leaned against the counter across from her mother, placing all three muffins down and twirling around one of them, the bottom of the lining circling the granite. 

“Your father and I could tell. Dinner was… interesting to say the least.” 

Jess snorted at her mother’s description. “I told you not to invite them.” 

As if reading her daughter’s mind, she again stopped what she was doing, and moved closer to Jess, pausing in front of her for a moment before continuing. “You know, you can be friends with both of them. Steve’s a good boy. He cares about you. He’ll understand.” 

“It’s not exactly that simple…” 

“And why not?” 

“Well…” Jess stopped spinning the muffin around and sighed, looking from the counter to her mother. “They kind of… got into a fight not too long ago. Like November…” 

“Oh… like. A fight fight?” Jess only nodded. “How’d Steve do?” 

“You remember that time him and Joyce’s son got into a fight?”

“Ah. So not very good.” 

“Nope.” 

“Well, sweetheart, Steve’s your friend, but you don’t always have to do what you think he wants. You are allowed to have other friends. Billy’s a good boy too. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the reason they become cordial.” 

“Yeah. Right,” Jess laughs out sarcastically but quickly stops. “Mom?” 

“Yeah, hun?” 

“You don’t think Steve’ll hate me?” 

“I think you two have been through too much together for him to hate you.” 

If she only knew how true that was. Jess pondered it for a moment, nodding her head slowly at the possibilities of how Steve could react to the news of her actually enjoying Billy Hargrove. There were a few options. One, and highly unlikely, Jess would tell Steve the truth and Steve would automatically accept it, not caring that she was now spending her nights with the dude who would have loved nothing more than to beat his face in a little over a month ago. Option two, which her mother was most likely banking on, would be that he would feel a little put out and would need a bit to process it, but ultimately accept her decision and would move forward. And then there was option three, the option Jess dreaded, the option that she was sure would have happened until now, Steve refusing to talk to Jess again. 

However, her mom was right. Steve was her best friend. She was the one who stayed with him through his relationship with Nancy, and their breakup. Hell, they’ve fought demi dogs together with a bunch of children. He wouldn’t just drop her for not seeing eye to eye with him, would he? 

Jess grabbed the muffins from the counter, finding a new surge of motivation. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“Of course.” 

“I should uh, I should probably get going…”

“To Billy’s?” 

“Yes, Mom, to Billy’s.”

“Well tell him I said hi.” 

Jess promised that she would and headed toward the door, grabbing her jacket as she exited her house. It wasn’t as cold as it had normally been, but it was still cold enough for her to want to hurry and hand the muffins off so she could be able to put on her jacket. She made the short walk over to Hargrove’s/Mayfield’s home, seeing Billy’s blue Camaro being the only car in the driveway.

At least he’s home.

Jess hesitated at the door for a moment, wondering whether this was a good idea. It had only really been two days since Christmas, maybe he just needed a little more time. Maybe he wasn’t actually mad and apologizing would just make her look stupid. Maybe he doesn’t want to see her, or he’s busy, or-

“MAX! If you want me to drop you off at that damn arcade with your freak friends, then hurry up!” Billy opened the door as he yelled the last part, practically screaming in Jess’s face before he turned around and realized there was someone at the door. They both paused, not yet saying anything, both staring the other down. However, Billy’s expression differed from Jess’s. While Billy attempted not to show any emotion whatsoever, his face as still as stone, Jess looked as if she was a deer caught in headlights. Billy was the first to break the silence, walking passed Jess to get to his car, practically bumping her out of the way. “If you’re wanting to finish up the project, it’s gonna have to wait. I’m busy.” 

Jess’s shoulders deflated. So he was mad. “That’s… that’s not why I’m here.” Her confession caused Billy to pause at his car door, both his hands placed on the roof while he hung his head slightly. 

“Then what?”

“I, umm…” Jess moved to where he was, standing by the hood of his car. “I brought you some muffins… you’re favorite…” 

Billy took one of the cranberry orange muffins handed to him and took a small bite. “My favorite’s actually the blueberry ones,” he deadpanned, not returning eye contact. 

“Oh… I just thought. You always asked for these ones. So. Nevermind. Sorry.” 

“So you just here to drop these off then?” He finally looked at her again and watched the way her gaze dropped to the concrete driveway as she shook her head in response. His gaze then traveled down to where the necklace sat against her sweater, causing him to clench his jaw to keep from smiling. 

“Billy, I-“

“I get it, Jess. Okay? I do.”

“Then why are you upset?” Billy sighed, throwing his head up to where he was looking at the sky then back down to where his eyes were now meeting hers. He knew exactly why. He knew how much he hated how he couldn’t walk the halls with her without the both of them looking around to see who was watching. He hated how quickly she would separate herself from him when she saw Steve coming her way, how he could spend every night with Jess and it still wouldn’t be enough for him to have a chance of staying in her life after this shared assignment was over. 

“Jess. I just thought-“ 

“Hey!” Max had finally exited the house and closed their front door, running over to Jess and hugging her. “Oh, thanks.” She took one of the muffins Jess had in her hand, turning away to enter the other side of the car.  

Jess handed the third to Billy and turned to face her own home. “I can… I can come back when you’re not so busy. I’ll-“

“Max, get in the back.” 

“No really, Billy, I don’t want to-“ 

“Get in the car, Jess.” 

Max did as she was told, climbing over the middle console as she normally did when Jess was tagging along. Jess then sat in the seat beside Billy, who was already starting his car. Once her door was closed, Billy peeled out of his driveway and sped toward the end of their street, turning without much of a stop at their street’s stop sign. They had arrived in front of the Palace Arcade even quicker than he’s accomplished before, possibly due to the tension in the car. Once they got close to the entrance, Billy stomped on his brakes, causing Jess to lurch forward.

“Alright, shitbird-“ 

“I know, I know. I have an hour.” 

Max began to climb through the middle before Billy stopped her, looking at Jess intently before he decided, “You can make it three.” Max’s face lit up, scrambling to get out of the car before he changed his mind. “But hey! I want you out here when I come get you!” Max nodded, slamming the door before Billy even finished his sentence. 

Jess sat there, making herself as small as she could, now feeling the awkwardness of having just them two in the car. It normally wouldn’t have felt this way; she typically liked it when it was just them two. Now, however, she wasn’t exactly sure where she stood with him. Jess began fiddling with the charm on her necklace, causing Billy to look over at her and decide to park in the arcade parking lot. 

“What are we doing?”  Jess looked around, slightly confused. “We’re not sitting here for three hours… are we?” 

He continued to watch the way she grabbed at her necklace, which was something new for her, as he’s never actually seen her wear one before. “No. Just. Thought you wanted to talk.” He looked down at her necklace again, realizing she wasn’t planning on saying anything anytime soon, so he decided to ease the pressure. “Cute necklace.” 

Jess smiled sheepishly at his joke. “Yeah? Some asshole gave it to me as a Christmas present.” 

“Is that so?” Billy chuckled a bit at her comeback, looking out her window before turning his attention back on her. “Well, that asshole has great taste.” When he earned a laugh from her, he looked down at her sweater, something else she had on that was new. “You get this for Christmas too?” He grabbed the bottom of it gently and rubbed it in between his fingers, just as he did with the sleeve of her dress Christmas Eve, making Jess’s stomach erupt. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it was. Steve actually got it for me.” 

Billy quickly removed his hand from the sweater and shifted in his seat, pushing his head into the headrest. “Fuckin’ Steve.” 

“What?”

“You couldn’t have come see me with another damn sweater on?”  He teased, though only slightly, as he was also somewhat serious. It was ironic to him that the first time he was seeing his present for her on, it was accompanied by something Harrington got for her, and that didn’t necessarily sit right with him, though he knew he had no right to think that way. 

“See, this is exactly why I don’t tell Steve about anything. Because you two absolutely hate each other! You can’t even stand that I’m in a sweater he simply got me for Christmas.” 

“Listen, alright, I’m sorry for freaking out Christmas Eve. But Jesus. I’ve been hanging out with you non-stop for weeks now, Jess. Isn’t he gonna find out eventually?” 

Jess didn’t know how to respond. As always, he was right, even if she wished he wasn’t. “I just want him to find out on my terms, Billy. That’s all.” 

“And what exactly are those terms? You gonna tell him after you ditch me once our project is done like you’ve been promising him you’d do? Huh?”

“Billy, what…”

“I heard you that day after practice, Jess, okay?” 

“And what about you? You don’t-” 

“Yeah, well, the difference between you and me is I don’t mean the shit I say to them. You fucking do.” Billy began running his fingers through his hair in frustration, slightly messing up the curls that he seemed to have worked hard on this morning. 

“I didn’t realize you cared what I say to Steve…” 

“I do when it’s true.” The left corner of his mouth ticked downward as he cleared his throat. He then turned away from her, looking out his front window, which was now faced at the brick wall of the arcade. He scrunched his nose in irritation as he had yet to hear a response from Jess. “Be straight with me, Logan, after this project, we goin’ back to how shit was before?” 

“I…” Jess paused, looking down at her lap, and then followed Billy’s gaze to the windowed brick wall right in front of them, being able to find Max and Lucas standing at a machine by themselves, laughing, while the other three boys and El were huddled around another machine. She had been watching them for too long, as Billy sighed, slamming his head back into his headrest. 

“Really wish I would have known that before all this shit.”

“Wait… Billy…” Her attention quickly snapped back to him, who was now looking everywhere but at her. 

“Jess. I don’t care. Just would have been fucking nice to know.” His demeanor, however, betrayed his words. He was clenching his jaw again, as he did when she first saw him this afternoon, but he was now blinking rapidly, looking around the parking lot once more before he opened his door to get out of the car. Without a word, he slammed the door shut. Jess watched as he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his pack of reds and placed on in between his lips. At this moment, Jess decided to follow him out, rounding the front of the car to the driver’s side. 

“Fucking piece of shit.” Billy was now aggressively raking his finger across the starter of the lighter, failing each time to get it to light. He groaned as he realized he might not get it to work, but continued to try, looking over to see Jess had joined him outside. “What.”

“I didn’t mean it.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Billy looked down at his lighter, which finally decided to spark, and brought it up to his cigarette before letting it go and putting it back into his pocket. He took a long drag from it before Jess spoke up again. 

“What I said to Steve, everything I’ve said to Steve. I don’t mean it.” Billy shot his head in Jess’s direction, his eyes fixated on hers, seeing if they held any insincerity. He stood there a moment, letting his red continue to burn at his side, and when the ash began to grow, he finally broke eye contact, flicking the butt of his cigarette, and letting the collection of ash drop on his boot. 

“What happened to ‘friends don’t lie’?” 

“Well, I’ve been a pretty shit friend lately…” Her voice shook faintly.

Billy’s gaze left the ash still on his foot and returned to Jess, his eyes holding a softness she was not yet used to. “No you haven’t.” He gave her a sympathetic smile, which she briskly returned, and opened his right arm for her, still holding his Marlboro in his other hand. In two quick steps, she closed the gap between them, wrapping both arms around his waist while Billy’s free arm pulled her in. She normally would have looked behind her, through the window, to ensure none of the six teenagers she knew would have seen them. She would have made the hug short if she even went in for it at all. 

But all that is what caused this in the first place. 

“I’m really sorry…” 

Billy clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, pulling her away only so he could look at her better. “I get it. Look. You don’t have to tell Harrington. That’s not what… Just… It’d be cool if I still got to hang with you even if we’re not doing homework together anymore.”

“I mean, to be fair, I’ll still probably need you for pre-calc. You know, considering you’re a math whizz and all.” Jess beamed up at him, causing Billy to roll his eyes playfully. 

“Oh yeah? And what about summer? Still gonna need me?” He looked down at her the same way that always made her wordless, his eyes starting at her own, slowly regarding each of her characteristics as he made his way down to her lips, occasionally stopping on a certain feature of hers, squinting ever so slightly as if to dial in and appreciate it even more than he already had before. She couldn’t continue to watch him and turned away, hoping she did so just in time before her blush became evident. 

“I think so.” 

Billy smirked in response, reaching down to hold the gold horse in between his thumb and index finger. “Gold’s your color.” 

“Yeah, well, like you said, the guy who got it for me has great taste.”

“Yeah, he does.” But even though he continued to hold on to the charm, he was no longer looking at it. Instead, he was again looking at her. She furrowed her eyebrows as he continued to stare into her, not sure if she understood what he meant. As her mind began to wander, Jess felt a slight shiver run down her back, which Billy mistook for her being cold. 

“Get in the car, gorgeous.” Though he had only a puff from his red, he threw it down on the asphalt and snuffed it with the ball of his boot. Jess moved to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door and climbing into the cockpit, with Billy moving in next to her shortly afterward. 

“So where are we going?” 

Billy looked over at her and down at her necklace again, grinning to himself for only a moment. “Wherever you want.” 

“Oh, can we uh. Can you teach me how to drive again? If we have the time?” Jess asked, looking at Billy hopefully. 

“Oh Jesus,” Billy groaned, smiling a bit while he looked out his front window, nodding to himself. He threw his car in reverse and reached his right arm across Jess’s headrest, backing out of the parking spot with ease. “Whatever you want.” 

Jess bounced in her seat excitedly, causing Billy to chuckle, muttering, “Don’t make me regret this, Logan.” As they continued to drive to the abandoned space she had practiced in before, Jess was unable to look anywhere but at Billy Hargrove, who was now drumming his steering wheel with the music, completely unaware that the girl next to him was imagining how his hand would feel on her lap while he drove with his other, or maybe he would rather hold her hand in his. She imagined what it would be like to park on the side of the road, or her driveway, or a parking lot, and watch him lean over the middle console, feel his hand at the base of her neck pulling her in, and have his lips on hers. She imagined what it would be like to wake up with Billy in her room with her, and instead of him being on the floor, he had her pulled in next to him in the comfort of her bed. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Billy caught Jess’s gaze, noticing the way her pupils stayed dilated before he’d brought her back to reality with his question. He continued to stare at her curiously, only shifting his eyes away to look at the road briefly. 

Jess shook the thoughts away as she finally looked away from him. “Nothing. Just zoned out I guess.” 

“What happened to ‘friends don’t lie’?”

Yeah. Well. They’re not supposed to make you feel like this, either.

Taglist: @nix-rose @fandom-princess-forevermore @ooo---hazelgrimm---ooo @axionn @defenslessheart-main @the-lost-are-ignored @ahoyyharrington @strawberrykittey

[cowgurrrl]

I've been rotting away in bed all weekend recovering from a cold and I made the mistake of rereading some parts of OFTM and I miss them so much 😭 how's our favorite famous duo doing? I can't stop thinking about reader having to defend/support joel for whatever reason, but it's with the vibe of this meme LMAO like that is HER man, how dare people say anything about him

J!!! I love this request!! Thank you for sending it in and I’m sorry it took so long 🩷

Girls on Film

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: unedited because you can’t make me, discussions of toxic behavior, language, Joel being a dilf, June once again not knowing how to properly end a fic, I think that’s it??

Joel is protective of his kids. Sometimes, a little too much, in your opinion but you didn’t marry him because he does things half-way. With each new addition to the family, his papa bear instincts grew and grew. And if you’re being completely honest, his protectiveness and love for his kids is part of the reason why you ended up with five kids to begin with.

When he was giving his interview to People during his Sexiest Man Alive shoot, he was asked what accomplishment of his he’s most proud of. Without missing a beat, he said, “my family.” He went into what little detail you use to talk about the kids in a public setting, even getting a little misty-eyed in the process. The second the crew was out of your house, you nearly jumped his bones right then and there. You found out you were pregnant with the girls about two months later.

So, yeah, he’s a great dad, and it’s super hot. Whatever. It’s universally known within your family that there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t do for his kids. He just loves them with everything he has and wants them to live full and happy lives. Which is fine until he bears his claws in public.

Following a particularly problematic documentary with some of today’s biggest stars, Joel was more than ready to say what had been on his mind when an interviewer stopped him on a red carpet and asked, “are there any people in the music industry you wouldn’t let your daughters date?” The daughters in question were never specified but it’s either between his married thirty-one year old, his lesbian (also married) twenty-eight year old, or his three year old twins. He wasn’t comfortable thinking about any option.

“My kids are free to date anyone they want, but we have a strict no assholes policy in our house.” He said and the interviewer raised her eyebrows. “Like I wouldn’t let ‘em date any of those idiots from that documentary.”

“Why do you say that?” The interviewer asked and Joel shrugged.

“My kids deserve better than some fucker in black eyeliner claimin’ to save rock ‘n roll when all he’s doing is being a sexist pig who makes shitty music.” By the time his words reached your ears, it was too late to stop him. The clip from the interview was making the rounds before you can even get home.

Paul, his poor, poor manager of several years, reaches out to him the next morning to ask if he wants to make a statement, amends, anything to smooth this over. Joel curtly responds to his long email with a short, “no,” and that ends the conversation. What’s even worse if you can’t even argue with him. He’s right. You’ve seen first hand how people in the music industry treat each other and it’s awful. Why should he be the one who gets shit on because he spotlighted other people’s behavior?

You are able to dodge questions, paparazzi, and others wanting to know the inside scoop for weeks until you feel yourself getting just as frustrated as Joel was. Leave it to the press to want the wife to offer explanation for her husband’s actions. It isn’t until you get an offer from Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen that you agree to even think about saying anything.

That night, Joel stays home with the kids and watches you walk out on stage with Carolina in a long bell bottoms, platform wedges, and your (Joel’s) favorite vintage band shirt. You and Carolina hug Andy and get some initial questions answered but it doesn’t take long before the subject turns to Joel.

“Now, I know everything’s been very hush, hush but Joel started a lot of discourse online about the music industry. What can you tell us about what he said?” He asks and you nod, smiling and playing with your wedding ring.

“That’s been like the question of the month, hasn’t it?” You joke to break the ice. “Look, I think we all saw the same documentary. We all heard what those men said and to act like we didn’t is, honestly, kind of ridiculous. Joel knows the industry better than I do and he knows that nothing is going to change unless you call out the people making it miserable for younger kids.”

“So, you agree with what he said?”

“One hundred percent. He was right that we have a no assholes policy for our kids but, other than that, we really don’t have rules about their dating lives,” you say. “And I think he was right to call out those guys. It’s not fair that they get protected by their little boys club and that just has to be the way things go. I think it’s bullshit.”

“You seem to feel passionately about this.” Andy says and you nod.

“Well, it’s not just because people are coming after my husband. It’s because we’ve both seen what any toxic environment can do to people which is why he owns his own label now.”

“And it’s doing very well. He just signed one of the biggest breakout stars of the year, didn’t he?”

“He did. And you know why it’s doing so well?” You ask, leaning in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Because he doesn’t sign assholes. He doesn’t put his name next to theirs. He doesn’t even want to be associated with them because for as much as it’s his name, it’s also my name and our kids’ names. So, people can say whatever they want about what Joel said but I will support him and his mission and when his artists start winning Grammy’s and spots in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, we won’t even remember the names of the people who got fifteen minutes of fame and a shitty sound bite to show for themselves.” You say and somewhere in California, Joel nearly jumps out of his seat with excitement, praising you like you’re there with him.

The second you walk off stage, your phone lights up with Joel’s contact photo and you laugh as you answer it. “Will you marry me?” He asks before you can even say hello.

“I’m assuming you saw the show.”

“Saw it? Baby, I recorded it,” he says. “When are you comin’ home?”

“Tomorrow. You’re supposed to pick me up, remember?” You ask and he groans.

“You ain’t allowed to be that sexy on TV across the country.”

“Keep it your pants, cowboy. I’ll be home soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighs dejectedly like a ten-year-old.

When you get back to California the next day, the discourse has been put to rest and Joel is almost giddy when he watches you come down the escalator. The flowers in his hand get crushed when you hug him tight and let him kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Where are my children?” You ask when he finally pulls away and he smirks.

“With Ryan. The kids wanted to have a play date.”

“So, the house is empty?”

“And clean.”

“Joel Miller, will you marry me?” You echo his question from earlier and he laughs.

Then, like a perfect gentleman, he takes your suitcase, opens doors for you, and drive you home to properly fuck the shit out of you. (Author’s note: I want to put <3 right here so mf bad but I won’t because I’m a professional. PS old man rockstar!joel fucks severely. PPS it’s canon because I say so)

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 7: Into the Bear's den

Words: 6.3 k (cause apparently I don't know how to write short chapters)

Summary: You're offered a new job and Carmy opens up about his past.

a/n:So we're getting close to the final line and i've never finished anything ever (cause adhd) so i don't know what to do with myselffff.

You cracked your knuckles again and glanced down at your watch nervously, for what seems like the fifth time in ten minutes. The view from the window beside the table where you sat gave sight to rustling leaves and little butterflies floating in the midday wind. You looked back down at your phone and reread your friend’s text, ‘Be there in 15’. 

It surprised you to see her name across your screen a few days back, asking if you could finally talk around lunch on Wednesday, and it was an even bigger one that you had agreed. You had practically cut off everyone after what happened at your old job, you didn’t want to tarnish her reputation too and drag her down with you. So you stopped answering calls and texts hoping she’d get tired of not hearing from you and just give up. Now as you sat in the small restaurant waiting for her, you knew how ineffective that plan had been.

You heard the small ding of the entrance bell and rose your head up to find her walking in your direction. 5 '9 and too strong for her own good, Joyce lifted you from your seat in a bone crushing hug. Your arms dangled at your side for a few seconds, but then moved them up her back as best you could.

“Joy, I can’t breathe.” You said, the sound muffled through the fabric of her dress.

She laughed softly and muttered a ‘Sorry, sorry’ before holding you at arm's length and staring down at you with a smile. Her face then fell slightly and she lifted her hand from your shoulder only to smack it back down on the exposed skin.

“Ah! What the hell!”

“Why didn’t you ever answer me?!” She questioned, a hint of hurt concealed in her ever present calmness.

You bit your lip in guilt and sat back down with her taking the place across from you. You both sat in silence while a nice waitress handed out the menu and offered drinks. Once she was gone with your orders, Joyce stared at you expectantly.

“So?”

Your view was trained on the slightly trembling fingers picking at your nails. The words were all an endless jumble inside your head, there was so much you wanted to say but they all pushed at the same time and nothing seemed to come out. She placed a well manicured hand above yours and softly called your name.

“I went to your house and everything. Your mom said you wouldn’t even leave your room. I think she was mad or something cause she didn’t even let me in.”

You let out a humorless laugh and finally look up to comforting green eyes. “Yeah, uhm… she thought you knew.. that he was.. y’know.”

“God no! Barely even knew the guy before that.” She squeezed your hands in hers. “Trust me, hun. If I would have known, I would have stopped it from the beginning.”

“Yeah-no, I know.” You gulped down and waited until the waitress was done serving your drinks before speaking.

“I really am sorry,” You whispered “I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole goodbye text and then just disappear like that.” You took a sip of your drink and Joyce gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think I just needed time to… process it all.”

“And did you?” She asked, concern looming over her eyebrows.

“Yeah… I feel like I have. I was mad at myself at first, I felt like such an idiot for not seeing it before, y’know? There were so many signs that I refused to notice cause I was so entranced with the idea that someone like him could lo-like me…” You focused your eyes on the other occupied tables to avoid her gaze. “I don’t believe it now, of course, but… I truly thought he was good for me.” 

You were both silent for a moment, the words floated around you like the butterflies you saw outside, finally free from the confinements of your chest. It felt nice, to be able to admit what you had kept down for so long, especially to someone who you knew wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Then I was angry at him.” You continued. “Because who does that shit, Joyce? I mean, you have to be really fucked in the head to make someone believe you’re wife’s been dead for two years, jesus.” She let out a small laugh along with you, the situation too crazy to seem remotely believable. 

“It wasn’t your fault…”Joyce’s voice grew serious after a short silence. ”You left as soon as you found out, despite what you felt for him, you left. I need you to understand that’s the best you could do.”

“I know..” You reassured her.

The waitress arrived with great timing, placing a bread basket in the center then two bowls with tomato soup as your entreé. You stirred it slowly with your spoon, head concentrated with the recollection of emotions that used to burden you but now didn’t feel as heavy.

“So…How do you feel now?” She asked, letting go of your hand to grab her own drink.

You sat on the question for a moment. If she would have asked you that a couple months ago, your reaction would be completely different, pissed off. You would’ve yelled every profanity that existed under the sun, cursed him out until your throat ran dry and your eyes stained your flushed cheeks salty. He was the reason you were unable to find another job in the area. When all the snobby rich ladies around Lincoln found out you were a ‘Homewrecker’, the news spread like wildfire and doors closed solely at the sight of your face. 

All the rejection had pushed you to your lowest point… though had it really?

You had found solace at The Beef. People you admired, who were hardworking and kind despite the blows of life. And you had also met Carmy. Sweet, adorably fucked up Carmy, the sultry ocean current guiding your adrift boat home.

A loving smile unrolled on your lips. “Happy.” You said, scrunching up your nose and a small relaxed laugh left your mouth.

Joyce’s expression mirrored your own, she reached again for both your hands and rubbed her thumb over the back of yours.

“I actually… met someone” You confessed, cheeks ablaze.

“Hun, that’s great!” She gushed, giving your hands another rub. “Show me, show me!”

You laughed at her excitement and pulled out your phone, swiping through your pictures. You found your favorite, one from last week at the end of your grandpa’s birthday. The photo was shaky but you could still make out Carmy's profile as he gave your temple a chaste kiss. You could also see your beaming smile, eyes scrunched up in happiness. You passed the phone to Joyce and dug into the lukewarm soup.

She stared at the screen with raised brows for a couple seconds, flicked her gaze to you then back to the screen.

“You’re dating him?” She asked in a mixture of surprise.

You swallowed slowly and nodded at her. “You know him?”

“Yeah.. I wrote a column about him sometime last year. Big deal in the culinary scene in NYC. Won a James Beard award, or something like that.” She handed your phone back and pulled out her own. 

You were taken back by the sudden information. Sure, from your time working with him you had noticed he was good, great even, but a JB? That shone a new light to the already present question, what was he doing at The Beef?

“I knew it! See?” Your friend turned the screen to you.

It was an article from December last year. He was standing with his back straight and hands locked behind his pristine white coat, hair combed like you'd never seen, almost glistening from the amount of product. He’s thin, the bulky arms you'd grown to love hidden behind long sleeves, eyes decorated with heavy bags that made your stomach churn. It was him, Carmy. Your Carmy, but different. Like if the picture had only captured his vessel but not the soul, he stood separate from the nine cooks behind him with an air of arrogance clawing at his stand. 

‘Carmen Berzatto: The Artist Behind the Best Restaurant in The World’ Read the article in bold menacing letters.

You handed Joyce her phone back, slightly puzzled but didn’t let it show on your face.

“We had dinner at the restaurant and everything. His shit’s like, stupid good. You really didn’t know?” She asked.

You shrugged while putting another spoonful in your mouth, reducing the importance of the situation, though the small ache bothering your chest might say otherwise. You decided to push it back until you're able to ask him subtly.

“He’s not the bragging type.” You answered nonchalantly. 

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy. How’d you meet him anyway?”

Over the course of lunch, you updated her on the past months, your time at The Beef, everything with Carmy and how you were now unemployed but had gotten something pretty good out of it.

“Honestly, I would’ve chosen dick over a job any day too.” She said and had you grinning from side to side.

“And it was in the middle of his kitchen too...” You mumbled before taking another drink and her eyes grew wide with excitement.

“Look at you, little freak!” Joyce joked and your chest bloomed with laughter.

It felt like a breath of fresh air to joke again with her, like nothing had changed in the last months and you were still as close as ever. Joyce was your oldest friend after all, and she proved to be the strongest when despite how the situation had unraveled she still stood by your side. 

“So what have you been up to now that you're a burden to society?” 

“Nothing really. I’ve been painting a lot to pass the time but my savings are almost running dry so I have to start looking soon.”

“Have you thought ‘bout getting something outside of cooking?” She asked curious.

You had. It was just an idea of course, but the more you thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. Sure you loved cooking and the everpresent bustle of working in a restaurant, there was something about the rush that kept you on your toes, but a part of you wanted to slow down. If only you didn’t need money to survive, then you could take the time to pursue something else.

“I mean I have, but I don’t know what it would be.” You juggled the idea in your head. “Besides, it's the only thing in my resumé and I don’t think anyone would hire me in another field with zero experience.”

Your gaze fell back down to the white tablecloth, it had been cleared and only your half empty glasses remained. Joyce had been quiet for a while and you looked up to find a smile inching up her cheeks.

“What?” You asked cautiously.

“I know someone.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“You know someone that what?”

“Hire you! Keep up!”

You looked at her with a blank expression. “Joy, I love you, but I would make a very shitty writer.”

“Not with me, I suck at being a boss.” You rolled your eyes, but agreed. “I meant with Jeremy’s aunt. She’s got a gallery in River North where she teaches painting classes to kids. She’s pretty old so she’s been looking for someone to help her out.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to call your future aunt-in-law old.” She waved her hand dismissively. “What if I’m not good enough or say something and fuck up the kids?”

You wanted to remind her about the last time she convinced you to take a job, but preferred to avoid the subject altogether. “I don’t want anyone to blame you for recommending me when I screw up.” You answered instead.

“Dude, please give yourself some credit. I’ve seen your work, it’s really good.” Your cheeks flared up at the compliment, “And I’m sure she’ll like you too, she’s a sweetheart. Plus, how hard could it be teaching kids how to paint?”

A velvety sensation stirred in your stomach as you contemplated the idea. There wasn’t really much to contemplate, it was a great opportunity and  one that not many people get without experience. So you swallowed down the nerves that mixed with your self doubt and nodded  happily towards her. She let out an excited squeal and reached out to hug as much of your shoulders as she could with the table in between you.

You left the restaurant with your arm locked around hers as she updated you on the past months of her life, your future job and all the planning she had been doing for the upcoming wedding. It was difficult for her enthusiasm not to rub off or even harder to ignore the glowing specks of light that appeared in her eyes when she spoke lovingly of her feancé. You wondered silently if your eyes glimmered with similar joy when you spoke of Carmy.

**********

Teaching children how to paint was, in fact, only slightly hard, but nothing you couldn’t manage after the first week. There were only six kids per class and only two one hour and a half classes from five to eight p.m. Most of the kids were older than nine so they were pretty calm, except for the day you decided to bake cookies for them and swore one had even burnt a hole through his sneakers from all the running he did. 

Mrs Marjorie, Jeremy’s aunt and not as old as Joyce had made her out to be, just leaned laughing by the railing upstairs while she enjoyed the show the children were putting on. Taylor Swift playing on the speakers seemed to calm them for some reason, and after a small impromptu dance party, you reminded yourself to pass by the bodega on your way home and pick up sugar-free choco chips for the next batch.

The gallery itself was one of the oldest in the area. It rested in the corner of the street, with high glass walls that allowed the natural lighting to illuminate the two floors inside. Most of the exposed brick was covered with framed paintings, with the right  and back walls harboring enough works to almost reach the tall ceiling. The bottom floor was separated into different areas, first the main lobby where the works were sold. Past that was the showroom, an ‘H’ shaped maze divided by white walls that displayed the series of paintings chosen for that month, and behind  that was an open space for the painting classes, near the back window wall. 

The second floor was half the size of the first, with a metal railing along the perimeter instead of walls, so you were able to keep an eye on the bottom half. It was the perfect mixture of a Victorian and maximalist library. Tall bookshelves stood against the walls, decorated by flourishing plants in unique pots. Old leather couches divided the library from a small employee kitchen, equipt with a microwave and fridge. 

Your favorite part, however, was the back. Long shelves that seemed to go on forever amidst a stretching white corridor, sheltering all kinds of sculptures and paintings carefully wrapped to avoid damage. Beside the emergency exit rested a studio, complete with paints, easels, unfitted frames and an industrial roll of canvas fabric. Everyone was allowed to use it as long as it didn’t interfere with your activities. The whole place smelled of paint thinner, old books and wood. Add the endless supply of chamomile tea, and you couldn’t be happier.

You were busy stirring the honey into your tea while also keeping an eye on the floor below, since almost everyone had gone out for lunch. With the steaming cup in hand, you carefully walked back down and began preparing your station for the first class of the afternoon. You carried out the easels from the back and unfolded them in a semi circle facing against the lighting, then entertained yourself rearranging the paint cart that the kids loved to misplace. You also brought out their works in progress and as you placed each one on the wooden base, you admired the different creative takes each child took with the reference image. 

Thirty minutes before the first class, you had everything set and the paint splattered apron already fastened at your waist, when you heard the light ‘ding’ of the bell over the entrance door. You stepped out from behind the exhibitions and in your line of vision, Carmy stood with his back to you, head slightly tilted while he analyzed one of the abstract paintings by the entrance. You smiled at the way his shoulders seemed to loose tension when he wasn’t at the restaurant, then with light footsteps moved to stand behind him, stood on your toes and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m good at understanding art.” He said with eyes still trained on the frame. his head now rested softly on yours.

“It’s abstract, everyone sees something different in it.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you see?” He asked and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to stand in front of him with his chin now resting on your head.

You hummed gently as your eyes swiped over the canvas of swirling oranges and soft greens. “ A sunset, maybe a flower bed. You?”

He stood silent for a few moments. “A… giant lemon.” He answered more like a question and an involuntary snort shook your chest at his answer. “See, I told you I was shit!”

“No, no you’re right! Now that you say it, I kinda see it” You agreed, turning to snake your arms under his and hugging his waist. “That is definitely a lemon.” You whispered up to him.

He let out a breathy laugh at your answer, then leaned down slightly and pressed his warm lips to your forehead.

“Brought you lunch.” He said between kisses, pulling out a sandwich, from the pocket of his jacket, tightly wrapped in aluminum foil. “It’s sweet n’ spicy with extra pickles.”

“Ooh, my favorite, thank you!” 

A shy but proud smile covered his lips, knowing he had your order completely memorized from the few times you’d take dinner home.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” You took his hand and took a single step further into the gallery.

“Wait, I can’t. I left Syd in charge and-uhm, I’ve got this.. this thing I have to get to… sorry.” He scratched at his nose by habit and rubbed his thumb along your soft skin as he felt your hand loosen its grip.

If you felt slightly disappointed, you’d rather not let it show. Instead covering it with a closed smile. It had been a while since you’d seen him. Between getting accustomed to a new routine and Carmy’s already hectic one, it was hard to find mutual free time that wasn’t just covered by a phone call after closing shop. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t at least a little crestfallen at not seeing him as much as you were used to, but you also understood that this was the way adult relationships worked, schedules didn’t always match.

You also still had your conversation with Joyce in the back of your head and no amount of begging Syd to tell you was enough to make her budge. The thought of having to ask him yourself made your stomach uneasy, but it was something you needed to do… 

Just maybe not at that moment, though.

“Oh, yeah, no prob.” you answered instead. “I have to finish setting up for the kids anyway.” You pointed with the sandwich to the already set up station. ‘But he doesn’t need to know that’ you thought.

“Shit, right. My bad.” He scrunched his eyes closed and gave a single nod and you could tell his thoughts were getting to him.

You stepped into his space and placed a lingering kiss, long enough to pull him from his head, while rubbing soothing circles into his hand.

“Thank you for lunch.” You whispered, then pecked his nose. 

He stared down at you for a few seconds, eyes the clearest blue you had ever seen.

“Are you hungry?” He asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him with furrowed brows but with a smile, head tilted in confusion as you raised the sandwich and slowly shook it.

He let out a soft breath that fanned your warm cheeks.

“No, I mean…Can I make you dinner? Tonight” He asked again, eyes glistening brightly under the filtering sunrays.

Your cheeks grew painful from the force of your smile and you nodded enthusiastically at him. His expression mirrored yours, hand holding tightly onto your own.

He kissed you one more time after promising to pick you up around nine, then left in a rush through the crystal doors in direction to wherever he was going. You stood there for a moment, a strange sense of worry bubbling up, but with a heavy breath you decided to credit it to the persistent questions in your mind. You walked back up to reheat your now cold cup of tea then left the sandwich in the fridge. It was almost time for the kids to arrive and since most liked to be there early, you would only be able to take a bite or two before having the little parrots telling you about their day.

Almost like clockwork, the bell dinged again the moment you placed the cup on the desk and little footsteps echoed their way to your direction. 

“Ms. F, you will not believe what Sasha said to me today?!”

**********

There was something you liked about buying groceries with someone that made it feel familiar, almost home-y. The simple action of walking hand in hand through the tightly packed corridors while throwing around ideas on what to make for dinner brought a calmness to your soul that you had not known before. To any outsider you were simply a couple meeting up after work, stocking up on the produce that you would then take to your shared home. And maybe for the half hour that you were in the store, you’d let yourself believe that too. Let the domesticity of it all embrace you as Carmy dragged you through the isles, absentmindedly mumbling to himself on the ways he could use every product he picked up.

You wondered what you would see if you could look inside his head. It would probably look like the office back at The Beef but infinitely.

“So you’re not gonna tell me what you’re makin’?” You asked for the third time on the car ride to his apartment, the bag of groceries he refused to let you pay for resting on the floor between your feet.

He let a soft laugh blow through his nose, then with eyes still on the road, he reached his right hand out to you and threaded his finger between yours. It was a quiet ride, the soft music from the radio filling in the comfortable silence.

“D’you like chicken?” He asked after a while.

“As pets or food?” You asked, teasing him. 

“Uh.. food… I hope.” He answered with a laugh.

“If I say pets, would that ruin your idea for dinner?”

“No” He answered simply, a soft smile covering his lips. “But I’ve been told foxes like chicken, so I think I’m in the clear.” 

A chuckle escaped his mouth when he saw your eyes grow bigger on your face and the redness on your cheeks match the stoplight above. He pulled your hand to his lips when a groan left yours.

“Fuckin’ hell…was it Joshua or my grandpa?” 

Carmy hummed ignoring your question and let go of your hand to finish parking the car. 

“C’mon! I gotta know if I have to beat the little shit.”

“You know what they say, snitches get stitches.”

“Yeah and in this case, he’s the snitch” You grumbled. 

He killed the engine then took your bag from the back seat, swung it over his shoulder and exited the car. In a few seconds he was by your side opening the door while you carried the bag of groceries. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” He said, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and walking through the building doors. “ I got stuck with Bear.” 

You liked Bear, to you it sounded quite appropriate. You had heard Fak and Richie call him that once or twice but never asked where it had come from.

“I like Bear, it suits you.” You looked up to see the pink hue creep up his neck, then looked forward again to finish climbing the stairs.

You reached a door at the end of the hallway and he searched for his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. “Sorry for the mess, by the way.” He said nervously, putting the key in the hole and turning it.

You reassured him with a ‘S’okay’ and a soft rub on the back. He extended his arm to let you walk in first then closed the door behind him and turned on the lights.

The room was illuminated by the soft white light of the hallway and as you walked further into his space you corrected yourself, this was definitely what the inside of his head looked like. With small mountains of cooking books occupying every flat surface, an ashtray filled to the brim on the coffee table and pictures of people you hadn't met yet hanging on his small living room walls. 

“It’s not much but it’s… yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck in anticipation for your review.

You scanned the room once more, inhaling the scent of coffee and cigarettes that felt completely him, then turned with the bag in your arms and smiled. That seemed to be enough of an answer for him as his chest deflated from the pressure of his sigh and he walked to place a soft kiss over your hair.

“C’mon, or we’ll be havin’ dinner by midnight.” He joked, taking the paper bag from your arms and guiding you to the small space of his kitchen, turning the lights on in the process.

Almost mechanically, he began taking the products out and setting them in a bowl to wash by the sink, then pulled out the chicken and placed it on a cutting board. You moved behind him rolling up your sleeves and turning on the tab to wash the groceries, avoiding his stare.

“What? I wanna help.” You mumbled.

But he only let you help with that, insisting that he invited you over for dinner. From blatant observation, you had learnt that food was his love language, so you didn’t protest when after cleaning the lemons, he took you by the shoulders and planted you on one of the stools on the other side of the small counter.

“Here, you can help me with this” He said, placing a bottle of white wine and a barely used corkscrew in front of you.

“Yes, chef” You answered sarcastically, only to see his hands slightly falter and his darkened gaze sweep over to you, filled with the all too familiar memories.

You bit the inside of your lip and continued with your task, trying to ignore the spark that his eyes had ignited.

Between light conversation, the humming of his stereo and occasionally distracting yourself flipping through one of his cooking books, you watched him work. Skilled fingers danced with precision over the handle of his knife as he julienned the garlic and added it to the sizzling pan with butter and capers. The room was drowned with the aroma of freshly squeezed lemon juice and the hissing of frying chicken. 

He moved around with perfected ease, no hunched up shoulders or erratic movements like you would sometimes find him doing, like if he were expecting for the restaurant to collapse into itself at any given moment. No, this Carmy was in control, precise, doubtless. This is the Carmy you could imagine working for the top restaurants in New York, the one with the slicked back hair and rigid posture on the article Joyce had shown you. 

The haunting image of sleepless dull eyes flashed in your mind for a brief second, but it was enough to pull you from your thoughts. That and a short glass half filled with wine that Carmy slid to you. You lifted your head from your resting palm to thank him and took a sip from the glass as he poured himself one then added a splash of the liquid into the pan.

“So- uh,” You swallowed the tasteful liquid. “There’s something I wanna ask you.” You began.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He asked and turned your way with raised brows.

“So a friend of mine-”

“Wait, try this for me?” He interrupted, taking a spoonful of the sauce from the pan and carefully placing it in front of you, cupping the bottom to avoid spillage.

You leaned on the counter with your elbows and blew on the hot metal before placing it in your mouth. You swirled it around your tongue, the acidity of the capers exploding in your mouth and triggering a smile. He brought his hand up to your face, tilting your chin up to him and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip before leaning down and kissing it. It somehow made the sauce taste ten times better.

“That is delicious, chef..” You breathed, the compliment filling his chest.

He let go of your chin and turned back to the stove, to stir the pan.

“Sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’…?”

“Right- yeah…” you cleared your throat to get your thoughts back on track. “My friend Joyce, she’s a writer for Food & Wine, in New York…” His head shot in your direction and you could instantly see the shift in his features as the words left your mouth, but it was too late to stop them. “and when I saw her a couple weeks ago, she showed me an article from last year that she wrote about you- which is pretty cool n’ all- but it kinda made me wonder… H-how come you never talk about New York?”

Carmy cleared his throat and turned the stove off, the sizzling sound dying down slowly, then he rested both hands against the edge, muscles flexed and eyes darting around your face. You were thankful for the music filling in the otherwise insufferable silence.

“I-I dunno I jus’...guessed you didn’t wanna hear about it.”

“Why?” You asked confused. 

He shrugged lightly, distracting himself by plating the chicken and adding the minced parsley and some Parmesan on top. He slid both plates over on the counter and you held his hand before he could turn around. 

“You know I really care about you, right?” You searched for his gaze, but his eyes were focused on the dishes in front of him. “And if… whatever this is, is gonna work out, then maybe we can tell each other this kinda stuff… even the ugly, no?”

You reached your hand up slowly to his cheek, then when his eyes finally met yours, your stomach dropped to the floor. Sullen wide eyes bore into your own, a mournful expression that you had only seen flashes of before. He nodded in agreement, hand cupping the one on his cheek and turning to kiss the base of your palm. 

“No-yeah, you’re right…You’re right.”

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb for a few more seconds before he turned to get two sets of silverware then rounded the counter and sat on the stool beside you. You ate in silence for a while, only letting him know how delicious the food had turned out; then halfway through your plates, he took a sip of his wine to clear his throat and rubbed his palms along his thighs anxiously.

“Just, bare with me cause I’m not good with words, okay?” He took a breath, then began. “I-uhm… I was CDC at this really badass place. The food there was, god, it was… art is the only way to describe it. And the staff was disciplined and always on point, but the exec was an absolute dickhead. He would degrade and belittle and humiliate anyone for the smallest of mistakes, I think he got off on that shit cause not a day would go by when he wasn’t shouting on about how he was surrounded by idiots.”

Carmy took another sip from his glass and you reached out to place your palm over his resting on his thigh.

“You’ve probably met an idiot or two like that..” You gave him a sympathetic smile because he was right, though not at the level he seemed to describe. 

“Although, I think he took a liking to fuckin’ with me more than the others. I was used to it, y’know? Insecure fuckers who think you have it out for their job, it’s fine, you get used to it. Then the nominations for the JBF’s dropped and when he found out I got in and not him, it got much worse, like exponentially worse.”

His fingers jerked and wrapped a bit harder around yours, but despite the slight painful sting, you refused to let go.

“I would always be the first one there and last one to leave, I think I would get maybe… four hours of sleep, if I got lucky. Sometimes I would- um- I would throw up before work, probably some anxiety shit- I dunno- but it fucked with my stomach and made it hard to eat anything. I was miserable for those last few months there.”

He was silent for a moment, gaze fixed on the half eaten breast, but not entirely there.

“Why did you stay?” The question floated in the static air between you.

He took your hand in both of his, unsure fingers massaging the joints in yours to distract himself. You saw the remnants of little scars scattered around the hardened skin.

“The prestige, I guess. I liked… being good at something, the best actually.” He sneered in distaste. “I think I wanted my brother to know that I was good enough to work with ‘em.” He confessed.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes raked up from your joined hands to his mournful expression. A thin red tint outlined his droopy eyes.

“Y-you never mentione-”

“He shot himself in February.”

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing you could say that would make the situation even remotely less terrible. Instead, you pulled your hand from his and wrapped your arms as much as you could around his frame. The soft shuddering of his heavy breaths blowing puffs on the side of your neck, where his face had buried.

It all clicked suddenly. The constant obsession of wanting- no- needing The Beef to succeed. How you had always thought Carmy had so much potential to just wither there. But it wasn’t wasted because he knew the industry, better than most ever did. He knew it with each persistent scar and cut on his arms, with each jab to the soul as they beat and battered him into pulp, when his only crime was possessing the talent they so desperately craved. He personally knew the limelight that many spend a lifetime chasing, and even if all that abuse had made him an outstanding cook, what he had lost in the process could never be regained.

You finally understood the desire he had for the beef to thrive, not only because he felt like he owed it to his brother but also as a big ‘fuck you’ to those motherfuckers that ever made him doubt himself.  

“I’m so sorry...” You whispered, because that’s all you could muster to say ‘Sorry for even asking’. 

“S’okay..” He whispered back.

“No it’s not, I shouldn’t have asked- it’s not my place-”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, placing a soft kiss over your hair.

“Hey, no you’re right, this is good for… us.” 

You pulled yourself from his embrace when the position had grown uncomfortable on your back, but still rested your head in the dip of his neck to stay close. 

“Thank you for telling me.”

His hand rubbed along the length of your arm as you both sat silently staring at your forgotten dinner. The rhythmic movements of his hand paired with the calm beats from his chest had your eyelids dropping every few seconds and an involuntary yawn filling your chest.

“D’you think I can stay over? ‘M too tired to make it home.” You asked, rubbing a bit of the sleep off your eyes.

Knowing you wouldn’t be finishing dinner, you began collecting the food in a single plate, then stood from the stool to stretch out your cramped muscles.

“Yeah- yeah sure. C’mon leave that, I’ll wash it up in the mornin’.” He said following behind you and taking the dishes from your hands, turning off all the lights and pulling you into the direction of his room.

While you took your sneakers off, he searched his drawers for a shirt and some bottoms for you to sleep in, then directed you into the bathroom where you changed and hoped that splashing a bit of water on your face counted as skin care for the night. You found Carmy already laying by the edge, hands relaxing on is head with eyes closed and if you weren’t so fucking tired, you would probably try to end the night in a more vigorous way. But as you crawled into the warm space beside him and he automatically pulled you into the direction of hhis arms, the tingling sensation that spread through your body when he kissed your forehead was way better than anything else.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest reminded you of the calm back and forth of the waves and you could almost hear the soft ocean breeze in his steady breaths.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” You mumbled with the last grains of consciousness you had left.

And it could have been the dream bleeding in through the cracks that let you hear a ‘You can stay forever if you’d like’ before losing yourself completely to the dark.

Chapter 8.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

[shadowhandss60]

Your overall review about the book? It's bad, awful, good, the best Rick wrote in a while?

It felt like being HOME.

I was full on grinning like an idiot 90% of the book. I’m going into my reread of all the books soon, but for me it has some of the funniest Percy moments because he’s just sick of sh*t and naturally hilarious. 😂

I gave 5 stars, but I may also be a bit biased because it’s Percy Jackson and I will be happy with whatever Rick gives me, but I think he did a great job shifting Percy back to 1st person after being 3rd person for so long in HoO.

It’s different with HIM as the narrator and so it felt like PJO again, where it is Percy talking to us rather than us just knowing what he’s doing like in HoO (if that makes sense)

Overall it was nice to have the lower stakes and not the apocalyptic world ending chaos. It allowed us more Percy without FULLY putting him through the ringer (he still doesn’t have a great time though, because it’s Percy and the universe still wants him to suffer some)

There’s a good mix of hilarity, genuine sweet moments that weren’t OOC (the family interactions in this KILL me. Sally Supremacy>>>) and fun banter between our 3 heroes. There are also some sad moments and they were done perfectly and it didn’t feel forced in the “lighter” setting of the book.

Some spoilers now (no major plot points):

I will say, I was hoping for more Riptide action. Percy’s sword fights from his POV are always iconic and so I was bummed we didn’t get that.

There wasn’t as much straight forward “action” like last few HoO books but I had to remember that it’s not going to read like those higher stakes books and it’s only 280 pages so there’s only so much he can fit.

I already know there’s going to be people that say Percy was “nerfed” in this book but again, lower stakes and the life or death situations they’re in in this book can’t be solved with the brute strength of his power and I personally enjoy seeing Percy as more than just a child soldier.

(He does scare a god though and he’s asked if he’s a god again, so I loved that)

[suzukiblu]

I know you're currently on a YJ bender (which, fair, your thoughts on trans Superman and not-trans Kon have me by the throat) , but I was wondering if you have any Clay Kids crumbs to share? I've been rereading it again and. It is still destroying me

Aw, ty, friend, "clay kids" is one of my more-fave things I've written. ❤️ Haven't worked on it in a bit, alas, but have an excerpt from the next chapter!

They don't find Jet. It's a big city, yeah, but there's only so many places he really goes in it. The fact that they can't track him down . . .

Smellerbee really, really doesn't like that fact. 

"Maybe he just went home," she says doubtfully, because that's the last place she can think of that they haven't checked. Lee doesn't say anything. He hasn't said much the whole search. He looks grim and frustrated and ready to snap. 

At least she definitely knows he likes Jet, she guesses. 

"He might have gotten sick or something?" she tries, although he definitely wasn't acting sick this morning. Not that Jet usually acts sick no matter how sick he actually is, but still. Smellerbee knows him well enough to know when he's not feeling well. 

"He never skips the teashop," Lee says tersely. 

"I know," Smellerbee sighs, because yeah, Jet probably would've gone there even if he were sick. He is . . . way too invested in Lee. To put it mildly. "Maybe he got stuck at a job. Or maybe Song needed him." 

"He was looking for that damn bison," Lee says. Smellerbee frowns. 

"Maybe he found it," she says skeptically. Lee gives her an incredulous look. "He might’ve! It's a big city. Lots of things could be here." 

"Including the Avatar," Lee says darkly. Smellerbee has never heard anyone spit the word like that, except maybe Jet after their plan with the damn dam blew up in their faces. 

"Apparently," she says. 

Lee looks angry. Lee looks angry a lot, so it’s not something new, but . . . 

“What’ve you got against the Avatar?” Smellerbee asks with a frown. She knows Jet’s problems with him, and she’s got problems of her own, but why the hell would Lee even care that the guy existed? Mostly just the people who expect him to fix everything do, and Lee really doesn’t strike her as that type. 

“Nothing,” Lee says flatly, which is a screamingly obvious lie. Smellerbee frowns again. That . . . is really weird. Okay, yeah, Lee’s three-quarters, but . . . 

He doesn’t know Aang, does he? 

“He probably didn’t, anyway,” she says, still eyeing Lee a little skeptically. He doesn’t look any less upset. “It really is a big city.” 

“He’s such a damn idiot,” Lee bites off, clenching his fists. Smellerbee assumes he’s talking about Jet, but maybe he’s not. 

“Let’s try the apartment,” she says, deciding not to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. That’s a Jet kind of problem, whatever it is. That’s the most Jet kind of problem she’s ever seen. 

“Fine,” Lee says, and stalks past her. Smellerbee brings up the rear. She doesn't feel great about this, but she already wasn't feeling all that great about things, so whatever. They're looking for Jet, not a bison or an Avatar or anything else. That's really all she cares about. 

Jet’s been all she cared about more than once in her life, so at least it’s a familiar feeling. 

[tortured-demigods-department]

an unhinged (and unofficial) dissertation on the pjo fandom

so i don't usually post anything that isn't my-works-related, but i had a...mildly heated discussion with a fellow film student tonight about the pjo show and it's got me thinking. bear with me, we'll be here awhile.

as we all know, the first season of pjo has ended. i've stayed relatively OFF tumblr and other social media during this time, but i know there are a lot of OG fans who are (in their words) "massively disappointed" in the show. most of the complaints i've heard have been during in person conversations though, so this post is mostly going to be referencing real complaints i've heard.

i've been a part of this fandom since i was thirteen. that's nearly eight fucking years of my life that i've devoted to the pjo universe. i have written and consumed YEARS' worth of fanfiction, i have read and reread every book so many times i can quote them forwards and backwards, and i went to the bookstore every single year on the new books' release dates to pick up my copies in-person. this fandom, these characters and this world have brought so much joy to my life, and i don't think i could ever fully articulate that in words. when i think of this series, i genuinely feel nothing but happiness.

but a few years ago—around the time i started college—i started distancing myself from the fandom for one glaring reason. this fandom can be such an...angry place? like, genuinely, i don't know how far it goes back—maybe all the way to the release of HoA, honestly—but i wasn't here pre-HoA, so all i know is that i very much remember how much people hated ToA when it came out.

here i was, having the TIME of my life with apollo and his silly little haikus, and people are going to war over how the series' writing quality has gone to shit and how everything was better before, blah, blah, blah. IN SPITE of everything that series gave us—discussion of the repercussions of child abuse and ptsd, representation of lgbtqa+ characters, and deep psychological messages that really teach young readers, i think, how to better understand themselves and their emotions and deal with them in healthy ways. and it just wasn't fun to be in a fandom where, as soon as you go "hey, did you read the new book?" they scoff and roll their eyes and only want to talk about how terrible it is. (i also missed all the discourse on the sun and the star when it came out—PHENOMENAL read, btw—but i've read some things that lead me to believe that it wasn't well received either, in spite of how lovely it was.)

so...it's dramatic to say i "left" the fandom, but i certainly withdrew from it. deleted my pjo ao3 and tumblr, started over with a different fandom. but the love has always been there, and the show starting really helped spark it fully back to life.

but now, the same thing is happening again, i'm noticing. remember back in the day, when we only had the shitty fucking movies, and we were like "man, ANYTHING would be better than this garbage. literally just give us actors who are the right age and we'll be happy." well, now we have PHENOMENAL kid actors who genuinely are having a good time playing our beloved characters, and instead of supporting them, we're STILL complaining about them not being "portrayed correctly"?

i've talked to so many people who complain that percy is "too smart," which is kind of a bullshit insult to percy's canon character. in the books (at least the first five) we're seeing things ONLY from percy's pov. he's a kid who's struggled with learning disabilities and been told he's an idiot all his life by everyone except his mom—but as others have pointed out way more eloquently than i could, percy is a very intelligent and powerful individual while maintaining his goofy fun personality, which is WHY so many people love him so much. he's complex, and i think they managed to capture that really well in the show even amidst all the changes.

don't get me started on the fucking racism towards leah sava jeffries—i'm honest to gods ashamed that there are racists who call themselves pjo fans. she is so talented, and everything we ever could have hoped for in an on-screen annabeth. ALL of the kids are—there's literally no argument to be had there.

and then, if people aren't complaining about the casting, it's the series' writing. or there's too much exposition. rick is changing too many things. the directors don't know what they're doing. it's not a TRUE book adaptation. (someone said that to me, and i genuinely laughed because i thought they were joking. when the MOVIES exist, they wanted to make that comment about the show.)

are there some things i would change about the show, given the opportunity? god, yes. the set design for the underworld was horrendous. (in my opinion, of course.) but here's the thing. i have spent eight years of my life waiting for this show to happen, and in that time, i've learned a lot about how much goes into successfully producing such a complex series. how much money and time is spent, and how many people have to be on board to make it happen. it's genuinely kind of miraculous that we're even getting this show at all, considering all the ways it could have failed before it even made it out of pre-production.

and i think we, as fans, sometimes forget that we aren't owed this. we don't own the percy jackson franchise. it makes me so sick and tired when authors or artists in any capacity feel like they have to cater their works to the masses, because they know they'll get thrown into the fucking fire if they don't. rick and becky riordan didn't have to got to the trouble of producing this show for us. they chose to—everyone involved chose to—because they wanted to make something fun and enjoyable not only for the fans, but everyone who chose to be a part of it.

do you know how insane it is that, when you read pretty much any interview of pjo bts, everyone talks about how fun the production was? i've been on film sets. they can be ABSOLUTELY miserable when they're not done right. but eight months into production, the kids were still laughing and having a good time, everyone's still giving 100%, they're excited, it's fun. walker was willing to go into a diving tank for a full fucking day in order to get one scene—i know i would never have that kind of dedication, and i bet 99% of you wouldn't either.

i know this has gotten really long-winded, but i've said all of that to say that...i'm kind of tired of fans trying to bring down the show, and more than that, trying to bring down each other for having a good time. as i've said before (many times, i'm sure), i waited eight years for this, and i have had SUCH a fun time watching it. assuming we get a season 2 renewal, there are going to be even more new fans coming in than we've already gotten from season 1, and i want this fandom to be a fun and positive place for them. for all of us. we don't have to miserable and angry all time. we can critique the show, sure—it's not perfect, and it was never going to be—but we have to remember that television is an art form, and that art is subjective even when it involves our favorite characters. and we can accept that and still have a good time, because it's just more fun to have fun, you know?

this fandom has always had so much potential to be the BIGGEST, most supportive and kind and loving fandom. with how much representation this series has, with how much content we've been given, with the SHEER massive number of us...i've always thought we could be a really, really great community. maybe it's impossible to hope that we could be the best fandom on earth, but if nothing else...could we all try to just be a little bit kinder? genuinely, as cheesy as it may sound...it's just nicer when we're nice to each other. and when there's so many real things in the world to be mad about...i would much rather this be a place where we can come to at the end of a long day and just...feel at home. personally, i just think that would be really, really nice.