#this is all early elementary school when I was still mostly a happy kid

[emzawheezy]

Did anyone else enjoy pretending to be grievously injured as a child? Like as a game- not trying to fool anyone into thinking you were actually injured

[phantalgia]

Why is it hard for me to engage with my interests?

One of my biggest struggles is being able to engage with any of the things that I enjoy. I don't really understand it and it comes from a multifactored place. But I think it can be broken down into two major blocks. A mental block and a physical one with some overlap between the two. So I guess we can be like Kamala Harris and use a Venn Diagram as a mental visualization.

Physical Blocks

I think if it wasn't clear enough already, I have some physical barriers that keep me back. From Dysautonomia-like symptoms I've had never been aware of since I was maybe 13-14. To COVID infections, twice, and a surgery that has knocked the wind out of me. Where the physical blocks intersect with the mental ones is in "hyperactivity" which is all I can call it as I don't know exactly what it is besides some guesses.

I think the physical blocks are clear and if we abstracted COVID and surgery from the equation, we're left with these mild dysautonomia-like symptoms. These have manifested mostly as trouble getting up out of chairs, some orthostatic hypotension, easily fatigued, loss of concentration, intense headaches, sometimes a feverish feeling, an overall intolerance to being upright (sitting or standing) without being short of breathe, blood pooling to extremities, puffy hands and feet, tight throat, short of breathe, and probably some others I can't think of.

Again, still leaving out COVID and post-surgery, this is what I dealt with before. I don't know what it is exactly. Because it very much could just be an overactive stress response. Or something along those lines. And I didn't know how much it affected me in every day life. Because it is so mild or has been blamed on other things like "not exercising enough" (which isn't true by the way, I was doing a lot of physical exercise), blamed on anxiety (which even then they didn't bother to try and do anything about), or was just dismissed outright.

To this day, because of COVID and post surgery experiences, I have become more aware of these symptoms because they have been THE SAME symptoms I dealt with before when I was in my teens but just cranked up a lot with some new stuff added in there like tachycardia. I had developed heart palpitations by the time I was 18-19 long before COVID. And then of course I would discover the Non-Compaction in my heart because of COVID. So in some ways COVID became a blessing and a curse telling me that I'm not making this up and I legit feel this way. My biggest worry as a teen was if I was ever going to be able to hold a job, I kept it a secret as I was embarrassed as to what people might say.

So with all the gaslighting and very real feelings I was having, it affects your mental well being. And I was not a happy kid. This is on top of whatever mental blocks I was already dealing with too.

Mental Blocks

All I really know is that I was really anxious growing up. That's about it. But it affected me in ways I didn't realize.

Most of the time I would spend days out of school just because my anxiety about school was so bad. There was nothing exciting about it or anything to look forward to. Much of it was stomach aches I would have early in the morning because I was so nervous.

These would go away by the time I did make it to school and spent some time there. But much of very early days at school, in elementary, just felt very linear, scripted almost like I was just a casual character.

But I had a lot of interests as a kid, I don’t remember how this happened but Leonardo Da Vinci was one of my biggest inspirations as a kid. I thought the idea of self teaching and being able to do more than one thing was so cool. To me it was unheard of in a time of specialization and very linear, structured, organized curriculum. It infected my perception of the world and how you were supposed to learn in school and outside of it.

Modern Education Soured Creativity in Learning

I eventually want to talk about an observation I had where for some reason, in certain hobbies I get very antsy and perfectionistic about things while in others not so much. So if I seperated learning to use a computer and academic work, using a computer I was able to learn without being so nervous about while academic interests made me nervous. This is something I could expand upon in a future post but it's more of an observation.

I think the very linear and structured nature of contemporary pedagogy painted this picture of the most ideal "learner" that I had to be. Which lead to a lot of procrastination, being distracted, being antsy about imperfections even before opening up a book. Things seemed daunting just before I even started. I would find myself pacing and pacing and never starting. This is as early as elementary school. But even if I did start what would happen?

Most of the time my mind would start to wonder, I'd get distracted or become self aware of what I’m doing and question it. Something didn't feel right and I couldn't figure it out. It would leave me uncomfortable. Sometimes I'd ignore the feeling or the feeling would get so unbearble I'd have to stop and almost breakdown or pace.

So there's a lot of anxiety here and maybe even an obsession over the most ideal of conditions for me to even start work on anything. This is a phenomenon that only occurs at home. Nowhere else. Not even at school. School just felt like I was passively moving along. Neither present nor unpresent.

These feelings and expectations for myself would creep up again in middle-high school and left me deeply deeply depressed. I still struggled to articulate the feelings I was having because they were so confusing.

On the days outside of school I would spend time trying to figure out why I felt the way I did, I did have unrestricted internet access afterall. At first I found out I was a procrastinator. I tried to use that as an explaination but that didn't work. So I kept looking for anything to describe how I felt. The closest thing I found was "perfectionist".

Perfectionist?

Perfectionism is kind of weird because what it is isnt an actual mental illness and is instead a personality trait that can be toxic. But if I was a perfectionist it created an environment for me where I couldn't get anything done, I was waiting for the correct conditions, and I had this ever looming feeling of "some thing not being right" if I was doing something.

It was quite literally ruining my life. And I tried so hard to explain to teachers and therapists that I was a "perfectionist" but I got dismissed each time and gaslit that I wasn't. My teacher essentially was insinuating that I was just lazy.

I couldn't quite understand why perfectionism wasn't technically a "mental illness". This feeling, this thing was ruining my life and had me institutionalized.

I actually still don’t understand why it isnt a "mental illness". But learning about anti-psychiatry and the history of psychiatry it makes sense. Perfectionism is a desired "trait" for capitalism. If you’re a perfectionist, it means you have the innate desire to be the best, you’re meritocratic even though it's costing you your body.

There is some academic research into perfectionism as a "personaility trait". Wikipedia has stated there's maladaptive forms that can lead to or be a sign of anxiety disorders, OCD, neurodivergency, etc. but there is a citation needed there, in the article.

Personally, I don’t like perfectionism. I think it's a horrible thing to be infected with and just ruins your life whether it exists by itself or is the result of neurodivergency or OCD. Nobody should ever be striving for any level of perfection and should instead be focused on the things in front of you. I don’t care if perfectionism has some "positive" qualities. They don’t. They'll just create burnout and alienate the affected person from others and their passions. It's the illusion of positive qualities.

I’m probably sounding like I’m trying to pathologize perfectionism and that does seem like it. That mostly is because it's coming from a deep hatred of those feelings that affect me. But I can only blame the environment that created "perfectionism" not perfectionism itself. Perfectionism is not a disease but a symptom of a society that requires meritocratic people and the self interested homo economicus.

With that all said, I don’t believe that perfectionism is a complete picture. As hinted, there's a connection between OCD, neurodivergency, and anxiety disorders. I think through that lens I might be getting somewhere.

Am I Neurodivergent or OCD?

It's kind of strange to be an advocate for "post-psychiatry" or "anti-psychiatry" and in favor of movements like "mad liberation" while still holding onto these labels. I don’t fully know what the discussion is surrounding labels in this area. I've seen arguments to go beyond them, reappropriate them, or just get rid of them outright. But when discussing fitting into a capitalist society, the labels can be a good tool, even if they don’t carry the nuances and the freedoms to not conform to certain standards.

I've wondered if I may be OCD or Neurodivergent in some capacity. My diagnosises have been clinical depression and generalized anxiety. Nothing more. I have been tested for depression, anxiety, bipolar, and ASD. It was nothing new, for ASD, I had a blip of it but not enough to call it Autism. A lot of my self research has found that it can be hard to diagnose neurodivergency in adults, especially if you mask it well and is very expensive. I didnt actually see any real experts in neurodivergency ever. So I may never know.

But I do feel like I fit many hallmarks of neurodivergency: difficulty concentrating, unorganized, trouble socializing, easily distracted, hyperactive, sensitivity to certain stimuli, stimming. It's hard for me to keep up with my thoughts while writing which is probably why I write so poorly.

And I feel like I have obsessions: obsessive rumination, obsessive interests that i protect, thinking about the same thing over and over again uncontrolably. I get a physical pain sensation when I don’t tend to my interests as well, it's like a nagging sensation.

They kind of overlap with each other. Sometimes the intrusive obsessive thoughts give me a release of adrenaline that i need to pace off and stim for hours on end. I will be so unaware of my surroundings and just lost in my head. It really prevents me from doing anything. And this applies with or without the perfectionist trait.

Another problem is because I am such a "perfectionist" I often won’t even do my interests because of the pain of starting or it "not feeling right". Or that I’m going about it the wrong way. Or it's too late or too long or I’m too "dumb". Many of these are just feelings before they ever become actual thoughts. So it tends to first go through my body, preventing me from doing anything then the thoughts come.

I have had friends tell me that they believe I’m ADHD. Just my behavior screams it. They say it because they have ADHD themselves. So it's quite possible I may have it. I did do a sheet test for OCD and ADHD with my psychiatrist in which I tested as possibly having both OCD and ADHD. But they're not offical diagnosises.

So I may not ever know what the truth is. I’m just as lost with what my mental blocks are as I am for my physical blocks. I’m left obsessively questioning the truth of who I am. And it causes me great fear and stress. I’m expected to go out there in the world and be like everyone else when I’m too anxious to even talk to someone in public. That isnt to say I havent made any progress in discovering myself. In recent years, Ive learned some things.

The Strides I've Made

I learned to let go of trying to find the most optimal way of learning things. Although, it's a bit complicated. It still comes back, and I think I can never escape the feeling.

I learned a little bit about how people learn and what really happens is just memory and associations with things that mean a lot to you. Diversifying resources on the same topic, mixing things up as you learn, trying non-linear approaches.

I learned that you can read a book non-linearly and can read as many books as you want at once. You can return to them any time you want. This may seem like a strange and obvious thing to say. But believe me, school really put this idea of the most ideal scenerio into everything. What is the most "optimial" might not be the most practical for everyone.

I learned to allow myself to go back and forth between what interests me and what doesnt. This applies to daily routine and to long term routine. Sometimes I want to read or watch something for 5 mins but something else catches my attention or thinking and I tend to that. Sometimes I want to learn art for 3 months and then drop it for another interest.

I learned that I just want to read everything and it's ok to go back and forth between books and maybe I won’t finish them. It's just how I roll. I can skip around in books, look at other sources and forms of media. It's ok, I can come back to them.

Adjust as you go. I can always improve my routine and where my mind goes. Starting a blog has been one of those improvements. It's a place where I can talk about things that I learned and am learning instead of having it all stuck in my head where they can get lost or jumbled up or make me overstimulated. I can empty it out, and it makes it easier to think about these concepts and retain them in memory. So ontop of that I learned to KEEP A JOURNAL essentially.

There might be more things I learned. But the thing is. I learned to accept my quirks instead of trying to avoid them which lead to idleness. It's still imperfect, and I think because of the physical stuff I’m dealing with I regressed quite a bit.

I’m trying to learn to forget about long term goals and focus on the now. Like have a long term or medium term goal in mind, then take that named goal. Take it out of your brain and lock it up in your own invisible safe. Don’t focus on where you want to be. Or on outcome. Focus on what you’re doing. Lock away the goals, you already know what they are, you can forget them and focus on what you’re doing.

Bottom Line

I’m currently on the path to learning the most important lessons: DO WHAT WORKS FOR YOU! Not what the most optimal is or the most effecient. Just DO WHAT WORKS FOR YOU. And if ANYTHING adjust it as you go. YOUR system probably won’t be the same system in a few days, weeks, months, or years. It'll probably always change, even subtly! MAKE A JOURNAL OR BLOG AT SOME POINT. That way you can organize and see your progress and thinking and get feedback. ACCEPT YOURSELF! DO WHAT WORKS FOR YOU NOW! NOT THE IDEALIZED YOU!

Anyway, moving on...

Where Mental and Physical Blocks Intersect

What came first, the chicken or the egg? I’m still wondering if I was always like this, my environment made me like this. Or some mixture.

I think what makes it difficult to diagnose myself with anything is the fact that so much of these physical symptoms overlap with mental ones and vice versa. Anxiety looks like dysautonomia and dysautonomia looks like anxiety. Or it looks like ADHD, ASD, OCD. And on and on.

I can be certain that regardless, my physical symptoms make me lose my train of thought and I lose interest in things easily. It's quite difficult to get much done. The mental stuff also makes me insanely self concious which adds to stress and I have this ever looming feeling of inadequecy or pressure to be at my end goals.

My mind is hyperactive and any sort of stimuli gives me a surge of adrenaline and I have to pace and stim. But then I get sick afterwords or don’t have the energy to pace or stim but I do it anyway. There's a lot of contridicting stuff that happens between my mind and body. Even just in my mind too. Or should I just say my body as a whole acts in contridiction all the time.

It's a fight and a battle every day. It makes the joy of learning and experiencing things almost impossible. I’m fighting back as much as I can. I know part of that battle is also self acceptance of who you are NOW. Not who you should be. You’re a work in progress. It takes a lifetime to learn how to live life, just like any hobby or interest you pick up.

How These Blocks Manifest In Every Day Life For Me

On a "good" day my life might look something like this:

I wake up and do whatever comes to mind. If I’m at my computer I might be aflicted by the sensation of my soul dropping down to the floor weighing me down like wearing wet clothes, especially wet socks.

I get short of breathe, my head could feel tingly, and I just feel weighed down. I might have a tight throat. And some issues with concentrating but not too bad. It's more of an annoyance.

Eventually it causes strain in my head and even a full on headache or feverish feeling. Luckily I don’t get to the point where I’m that fatigued usually as I’m not in an environment where I have to strain myself as much.

However, the mental stuff comes in. It might be something I see, hear, think that triggers me to pace and stim non-stop. I get anxious about the stuff I’m doing and lose interest pretty quick.

I might be nervous or overwhelmed with an interest and never start. Or maybe I do start and it just stresses me out. Or maybe I lose interest and move onto something else. Or maybe something about it causes me to feel hyperactive and pace. There's a lot that happens there.

I tend to ruminate with things, often related to what i was doing and get into wacky scenerios in my mind or it branches off somewhere else non-stop. It's just so weird to have these competeing feelings of hyperactivity and extreme fatigue. It's nuts.

I’m put into a position of idleness. Or taking one step forward and two steps back.

My current hobbies I've been engaging with have been guitar and reading. However, because of the physical stuff it's been hard. I'll quickly switch between practicing guitar and reading and even between books. I’m ok with "forgetting" things I read because reading isnt about remembering things, instead they're stored somewhere, they just need the right trigger to cause memory. But there's also layering sources of the same topic or trying to find ways to connect to completely seperate topics together to enhance memory. I’m going off on a tangent....

Anyway, I may read back and forth between books until at some point I lose interest. I might start pacing and think of something related to what i read but it branches off till it's unrecognizable.

Recently I tried to incorporate some form of journaling to better organize and think about the stuff I’m reading but I started to become too obsessive and worried about it. It stopped my progress on reading and I’m scared to go back to reading because I’m afraid of not having forgotten what I was reading. Even though part of me knows that it's not a big deal I still get scared anyway. A lot of difficult concepts often scare me away or I forget easily or I gloss over which that's fine. It's all a journey.

I’m really obsessed with learning, just a hyper awareness of how I’m actually learning something and retaining information that it becomes so sacred to me that it's scary. It's a very strange thing. It keeps me idle or makes any approach to topics daunting. Ive looked into different theories of epstimology like constructivist and transformitive approaches. I like those two approaches. It feels like I am constructing my knowledge but also transforming my prior beliefs about learning as I learn.

Since I've been physically sick, the idea to start a blog came in to fill the void of my idleness, my fear of returning to my books/interests, guitar, and my emotional state. It's been hopefully a place where I can dump whatever is on my mind until I feel satisfied enough to move on and get back to my hobbies and write about those as I learn.

In Closing

So, it's hard for me to move forward with things. I’m really all over the place and idle at the same time. My writing style, I think, reflects that. It's slow for me to get things moving and I’m trapped in a state of confusion as to what I’m dealing with.

I hope in time I will know. But for now I’m glad to just be able to talk about these things that keep me in place. I feel like this isn't a complete picture of what it feels like but it's close enough for me.

[overwheat]

This is just a venting, putting feels into words and off my chest post.

In the end I'll know I'll be fine, just gotta feel my feels, continue to work on managing my emotions and just take things one day at a time.

---------

Being self aware of your emotional triggers, while a good thing, really sucks when they randomly get hit by such little things and throws you off cause now you're emotionally down while mentally working to not let your thoughts spiral and dramatically overthink everything.

The big one for me that's been hitting lately, probably due to it being winter and holiday season now (woo seasonal depression), has been seemingly getting sidelined and ignored by people which makes me feel excluded, like I'm not wanted and so my fear of abandonment goes off.

When those feelings overtake me all I instinctively want to do is just withdraw from everything and isolate myself but, having figured out it was a coping mechanism I developed as a kid, I've grown to really not like doing it.

For me I know it can be a good thing to do for a little while to process emotions and such but, I also know it can turn long-term which is the part I don't like and am afraid of doing cause I don't wanna shut people out.

-----

I was on my own a lot growing up due to my mom and first step-dad working all the time and throughout elementary and middle school I had almost no friends so I was rarely invited to anything and got bullied a lot.

I wasn't aware of the impact this would have on me at that time and didn't realize how lonely I actually was until High School when the friend group I became a part of did stuff together constantly, hung out everyday after school and on weekends and this continued after graduating and well into our twenties, it was awesome.

Suddenly I had a group of people that included me and wanted me there, it was a sense of family I hadn't experienced until then and slowly over the last decade I've been realizing how fucked my childhood really was.

Now being in my mid-thirties, most everyone I'm still friends with from then and my early twenties have other priorities in their own families, spouses, careers with differing schedules and personal projects they focus on so we're not doing stuff all the time like we used to.

I am genuinely happy for all of them, I fully understand that life happens and it's not like I'm expecting them to make me a priority or anything.

It's just with being single (have been my entire adult life) and better understanding what I went through in my childhood, that feeling of loneliness is back cause I'm mostly on my own again.

I can function fine on my own and be perfectly content with entertaining myself since that was my entire childhood, so it's not that I have a hard time doing that, it's just that it's all I ever really knew until High School and since having gotten that experience of being with people that wanted me around and included me, I really don't want to go back to being that alone.

Logically I know none of what I'm feeling is really true but seeing everyone I know finding love, success and striving in their personal growth I feel like I'm falling behind and being outgrown. I feel like I'm not good enough for anyone to be deeply close to, to be a constant part of their life, I feel like I'm not wanted around anymore and that I'm easily replaced and that I don't matter to anyone.

I know it's not fair to myself to compare where I'm at with others but emotions do what emotions do and when these feelings manage to hit, they hit painfully hard and makes pulling myself out difficult.

----

Earlier this year I found out about and figured out that I identify as demisexual, which made a lot of past experiences make so much more sense and why it always felt like I was constantly late to the party in wanting to woo anyone.

It just takes me longer to know if I actually have a romantic interest in someone since I need a strong emotional connection with them. Also explains why I've always been a fan of the friends to lovers trope in media.

With most of my past experiences by the time the realization I was interested happened, the other person was already romantically unavailable.

Ultimately in life I really want someone to be partners with, not just in a romantic relationship.

I want a best friend to go on random adventures with, to snuggle up and watch shows and movies, to sleep & wake up next to, a partner in crime, someone to love and be loved by, someone to fully trust can be there for me and for them to have that trust in me when either of us need support and for us to want and put in the work on growing and building our partnership and individual selves, someone to just experience life with and come home to and talk about our day.

I want to be emotionally and intimately wanted and to know, to trust, that want is genuine and to give that feeling to someone in return.

I am absolutely terrified though that I'll never have that experience, forever be the third wheel and that I'll die as alone as I was growing up.

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel�� dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[n0bamak1s]

laughing gas - mai zenin x reader

request: “Mai Zenin x Fem S/o, where the s/o gets their wisdom tooth removed and confesses their love to mai acting all sweet and cute, mai then takes care of her s/o and confesses too, we can see mai being her bratty and confident self but when she is with her s/o she just lets her walls down” - @shockfirefly

summary: in the request! (genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slice of life, humor)

warnings: reader is high on anesthesia if that counts as a warning, swearing, mostly just tooth rotting fluff (literally!!)

word count: 2k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this request! at this point i’m basically just a mai zenin stan account tbh but the requests for her are just so fun to write. i’m almost on summer break so hopefully i’ll be more active bc i have a few ideas i’m excited to write for!!

it seriously took everything in mai’s willpower to not immediately whip out her phone to film your groggy state the moment she stepped into the room where you had just gotten your surgery done. she stifled a laugh at the bandage wrapped around your head, vaguely reminiscent of the one noritoshi had worn following the exchange event. when your eyes flicker over to meet her gaze, you give what she can only assume is your attempt at a smile, but looks more like a dog caught eating its owner’s dinner, with your face all swollen and slightly flushed.

forget that willpower shit.

she shamelessly calls out your name, to which you respond like an eager little kid. “say cheese!” she gives you an uncharacteristically wide grin to signal you to mirror her actions. you seemed to not learn from your previous mistake and attempted to smile back at her, before immediately cutting yourself off with a muffled groan. she hardly bothered with hiding her giggle this time, but at the very least she had the decency to cover her mouth as she cracked up.

with an annoyed pout on your face, you huffed and turned to the nurse standing beside you, who you were apparently to loopy to notice had joined in with mai on giggling at your grogginess. “she’s so mean to me!” you said, though your tone had no real irritation to it.

“it’s just to send to utahime. she wants to make sure your doing alright.” mai lied straight through her teeth, though you seem satisfied enough with that answer as you started to push yourself up from the seat you’d been in. mai quickly rushed to your side, knowing you weren’t sensible enough at the moment to ask for her help. before you could stand up and inevitably wobble over, she looped an arm around your waist and moved your arm so it was slung over her shoulders.

“alright champ, let’s get going.” she tried to remain as nonchalant as possible with the close proximity, but unfortunately for her, you seemed determined to embarrass her as much as possible.

“well at least buy me dinner first, ya casanova!” you said (much louder than necessary, mind you). honestly, it wouldn’t be surprising to mai if you could be heard from the waiting room.

with an over enthusiastic wave from you and an awkward thanks from mai to the nurse, you guys set off on your way.

to be fair to you, it was surprisingly a relatively tame trip to the door, with you focusing on keeping your steps in tune with mai’s. you were too lost in thought to embarrass yourself until you had made it to the waiting room. you had rather innocently pointed out a small curse, which would have been completely harmless had it not actually been an old woman, and had you not spoken with an inappropriately loud voice. the poor old lady who had fallen subject to your anesthesia induced self gave you an agitated glare as mai waved sheepishly in apology. the moment you guys were out the door, you turned back to glance through the glass.

“we’ll get her later, mai!” you patted her on the back with determination, your voice still muffled in a way that made you sound like you belonged on sesame street. “she can’t fool me, stupid curse!”

had it been anyone else, mai would have simply rolled her eyes and tugged you on, but since it was you, she found herself laughing along, a quiet laugh, like the sound of a wind chime in early spring weather. the sound seemed to catch you off guard, causing you to stop in your antics before turning to face her. she paused when she felt your gaze back on her, looking at her like a kid would look at fireworks for the first time.

she raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor. “what?”

“your laugh is pretty.” you stated simply, clearly having some pride at being the one to get her to laugh like that.

she turned away for a moment, hoping it would stop you from seeing the flush spreading across her face, knowing you’d never let her live it down. “thanks.” she muttered, praying she sounded at least a little bit cool and composed.

the short walk to the car was filled with you pointing out random cars asking if they were mai’s as you rested your head on her shoulder, before deciding the swelling was too painful for that.

a large grin which quickly turned into a grimace (you really never learned) appeared on your face when mai finally informed you that you’d made it to the right car. she held your hand to support you as you stepped into the seat, and once she’d sat down, reached over to buckle you in. she chose to ignore the over exaggerated wink you sent her way in favor of her own sanity.

as she drove, you babbled on about nonsense like how you were sure noritoshi had made mechamaru to hide the fact that he was secretly a robot, or how after that run you had gotten at the baseball game, you were sure you were destined to quit sorcery to go to the major leagues. to humor you, mai nodded along, before dryly responding that she’d probably be a better fit considering how good she looked in the baseball uniforms.

ignorant of her joking tone, you were quick to agree enthusiastically. “definitely! but i dunno if i’m the best person to ask, because i think you look good in just about anything.” your voice was sincere as you turned fully to look at her with slightly hazy eyes.

before either of you had time to process the admiration you had shown towards her, you glanced back out the window to the familiar sight of your school. you excitedly waved at the sight of todo and noritoshi sparring together. after catching his attention, todo didn’t even bother to stop the roaring laughter that came from your appearance, pointing out to noritoshi the similarities between your current look and his from just a few weeks ago. noritoshi gave todo an annoyed look, before glancing back over to see mai helping you out of the car, once again slinging your arm over her shoulders and supporting you with an arm on your waist.

she tried her best to ignore todo, she really did. though, it wasn’t exactly easy to ignore him when he loudly exclaimed what a ‘lady killer’ mai was. she snapped her gaze to meet his eyes, giving him a cold glare, before continuing to slink you along to your dorm.

when you opened the door to your dorm, the first thing mai noticed was a bulletin board on your wall, decorated with photos of all your friends, which most recently included your classmates. her eyes flicked to a photo of you next to another girl in elementary school with a smile that showed off your gap from missing teeth, and she chuckled softly at the irony of the photo compared to your current situation. her gaze then quickly shifted to a newly added strip of pictures from a photo booth. she smiled fondly at the memory of you, her, miwa, and momo sandwiching yourselves together in the tiny booth to take photos during your shopping trip. they weren’t ‘good’ photos, per say, in fact you guys all looked rather ridiculous trying to pack into frame, but for some reason, mai seemed to soften up at the memory of it, and how happy you looked just to be next to her.

her train of thought was interrupted by you tugging on the hand that didn’t rest on you, making her turn to see you mere inches from her face.

why the hell were you so close???

“yes?” she questioned, hoping to deflect from the fact that she was so obviously gushing over the photos on your wall just moments before.

“will you sleep with me?”

had you not had an arm around her, she probably would have dropped you in that instant. from the way she carried herself to the way she talked to others, most people would assume mai zenin does NOT blush, yet somehow you’d managed to disprove that theory way too many times today.

“WHAT?” it was her turn to be loud for a moment.

“i’m tireddddd” you whined “and you’re so warm.” you had stated it so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

she groaned, as if it would cover up her sheer embarrassment at how bold you were. wordlessly, she walked you to your bed, keeping her grip on your waist secure. it was amazing how gentle she was as she laid you down on that rock solid bed all the dorms were stuck with. she pulled a blanket over you, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed in hopes you’d doze off peacefully from there. when she didn’t shift from her position, you looked at her with a confused expression.

“wouldn’t it be more comfortable to lay down?” your words were still slightly slurred together. you rested a hand on hers. “you know i don’t mind.” despite your dazed look, she could tell your words were sincere as your thumb rubbed circles atop her hand.

mai turned to face you full on, her eyes gentle rather than their usual harsh look.

curse you for being so hard to resist.

“fine” her voice was quiet “but only because it’s my job to watch over you.” she stretched out her legs so she was laying down on the bed, pulling the blanket towards her so she could get comfortable.

“you’re so good to me mai.” you smiled. not a pained grimace, or an awkward baring of your teeth, but a smile. “people always seem to be so intimidated by you, but i don’t really get it. you’ve always been so nice to me. it’s nice.”

she didn’t understand how even when you were all loopy, you still managed to have such an effect on her. hesitantly, she reached up to grab your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

it seemed the boldness from your anesthesia had rubbed off on her.

before she had time to talk, you continued. “i always feel so glad when we get paired up for missions, you make me feel so safe. like, i know when i’m around you that you’ll protect me. i admire you so much for doing all that for me.”

she went slightly stiff at your...confession? declaration? what exactly would you call that? you had said it so nonchalantly, whether it was out of trying to play off your fear of rejection or legitimate confidence, it was hard to tell.

“plus you’re really pretty.” your hand squeezed hers as you looked suddenly very interested in the pattern of your blanket. it was odd, seeing you get so shy all of a sudden, though she supposed it was somewhat of a win for her.

as you stared sheepishly away from her eyes that traced over every inch of your face, you felt her hand come up to your cheek, tilting you to face her. she continued scanning your face with an impossibly soft expression, before meeting your eyes once again.

“you know i wouldn’t do all that if it was anyone else.” her voice was barely above a whisper as her eyes bore into yours. her face was so close to yours that you could feel her breath fanning lightly across your face. “it’s all for you.” you’d never seen her so earnest before.

you smiled softly at her, even despite the ridiculous bandages around your head, and your chipmunk like cheeks, she still stared at you with so much love.

“you like meeee.” your tone was teasing, but it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you were just as whipped as her.

“dammit. you figured me out.” she said sarcastically, shuffling forward slightly so you were flush against her.

up close, the tiredness in your glassy eyes was obvious. she sighed to herself, and slowly leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

“get some sleep.” she smiled at your eyes struggling to fight open your heavy eyelids. “we have a lot to talk about once the anesthesia wears off.”

maybe todo wasn’t so far off with that ‘lady killer’ comment.

[fayeimara]

Suna Rintaro || Found You | First Meeting

SUMMARY. What happens when your elementary school daughter arrives home unexpectedly with a surprise in tow?

PAIRING. You x Suna Rintaro

GENRE. Can I even write anything but fluff for this man?

WARNINGS. Suggestive, sexual innuendos & references, kissing - let me know if I need to add anything else

Haikyuu! Anthology Series | It's Fate When Your Kids Are Friends

SUNA | First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family

You're on your way back to your study after grabbing a snack from the kitchen when the sound of a key in the lock of your front door halts your steady steps. There aren't many people with a key to your house that would be visiting you at this time.

Even more concerning, however, is the light soprano of your daughter's voice echoing from the foyer to reach your ears, prompting you to quickly turn and rush to meet her at the door.

"Ryoka! What are you doing here?" You skid around the corner, already calling out in concern, "How did you even get home by your-"

You cut yourself off as you meet not only one pair of eyes, the copy of yours that you expect, but a second solemn pair, both wide in small faces that peer up at you.

"Mommy!" Your daughter's look of surprise and chagrin melts into a sheepish smile as she throws herself forward into your already extended arms. "I missed you!"

You hold her small frame close for a moment before gently pushing her out with your hands on her shoulders. "I missed you too, sweetheart. But you need to tell me what you're doing here and, more importantly, how you got here."

"Well school ended early today and.." She hesitates, peering up with big eyes and a small pout, "we thought we'd just walk home together."

You resist the urge to close your eyes and place a hand to your head in exasperation, aware that even at the young age of 7 years old, she's incredibly sensitive to your reactions. Instead you look at the little boy standing patiently behind her and ask, "And who's this?"

"This is my friend, Kiyoshi!" She's a little subdued, likely aware that she'll be hearing more from you later, but perks back up as she pulls away and grabs his hand to draw him further in your shared home.

"Hello Kiyoshi. Do your parents know where you are?"

He's definitely more guileless than your own daughter, answering directly and honestly in a quiet tone, "My dad's at work and my nanny was supposed to pick me up when school ended."

Okay, so clearly neither parent nor temporary guardian are aware that this boy is no longer at the school. They'll be frantic. Just as you're about to ask several more questions, hopefully leading to a quick resolution, you get a call, screen indicating it's your daughter's school, so you have both kids move into the living room as you pick up.

You're not too happy to hear about the early release at this point, given the lack of heads up and you make sure to give the school a piece of your mind, letting them know you'd be by at another point to discuss this further, before hanging up. If you're this upset and you know your daughter is home safe, you can't imagine what Kiyoshi's father is feeling at this point."

Crouching down in front of your daughter's friend, you wait until you're eye level with a patient, unhurried expression on your face, "Kiyoshi, do you know your father or nanny's phone number?"

He answers with a small nod, reciting the digits so clearly from diligent practice that you have to smile as you type it in and then stand back up to make the call, "Ryoka, why don't you show him your toys while mommy makes a call? Only the ones here in the living room where I can see you, okay?"

Your daughter dutifully nods but you catch the smug smile of success she throws her friend, likely having planned this improvised playtime with him. You'll definitely be having a serious talk with her later about safety and responsible decisions but you move slightly away for now, keeping an eye on the kids while the phone rings out.

"Suna." A deep voice answers on the other end, a little clipped but mostly unreadable.

"Hi.. Suna-san- I assume I'm speaking with Kiyoshi's father?"

There's a pause and then the voice gets sharper, "If you're calling back from the school, I don't want to hear it right now. I'm leaving now to find my son, but you can expect to hear ba-"

"I'm not from the school. My daughter is friends with your son and he's safe at my house."

"He's- he's with you." There's finally emotion other than anger and annoyance, it's an odd sort of relief and slight confusion mixed with a new wariness, "And who exactly are you?"

"I'm L/n F/n, as I mentioned, your son and my daughter are friends. I was pretty surprised to see them both show up at my house just minutes ago and have a bone to pick with the school too. But I would have wanted to know that she was okay before anything else if the positions were reversed so I'm calling you now. You said you were leaving work? Your son is safe, Suna-san, and he will be while we wait for you here. I'll text you my address."

As you're speaking you've already pulled your phone away to quickly text your address to the number you're on the line with. You can still hear if he speaks though but there's another pause from him and then, "Got it, thank you. You said they just showed up? How did they get there?"

"I'm pretty sure they walked, but I was going to cover that after I spoke with you. How far are you?"

His tone is back to unreadable but you think it's calm rather than neutral. "It's about a 30 minute drive, I'll be there in 20."

"Please don't rush, Kiyoshi is safe here. If it's okay with you, I'll make them snacks while we wait. There's no really no need to drive recklessly." It'll be easy to put something small together for the kids from the dinner you'd prepped for earlier.

There's amusement colouring his voice, "Thanks for the concern, L/n-san. I'll be there in 25, then."

You chuckle at the small compromise and there's a moment of silence between you both until you think to ask, "If you haven't left yet, do you want to quickly say hi over facetime?"

"You want to videochat?" He sounds confused again and you laugh in response.

"I meant with your son. You know, to check in on him."

He pauses yet again and then the amusement is back, "It should be fine.. unless you're going to tell me you're holding him hostage or something."

"Yeah, sure, or something." You roll your eyes with your dry response. What do you even say to that coming from a complete stranger? "We'll see you soon, then."

"L/n-san." You lift the phone you were lowering back to your ear when you hear him call out to you, "Thank you again."

"No need."

"Not everyone would have reacted as quickly and efficiently. Or maybe even bothered."

You can't imagine what parent wouldn't have been compelled to react in a similar manner but you don't say anything, uncomfortable accepting thanks for such a seemingly human reaction.

He seems to either understand or realize you don't have a response and you hear him chuckle lightly, the sound tugging at your own lips in sheepish acceptance, then he finally replies, "I'll see you soon, then."

You end your call and turn to fully face the two kids again. They've already managed to create a messy pile of toys they've pulled out and then discarded from Ryoka's toy box. Almost as if they feel you watching, they both stop their odd conversation about monsters and cats, and turn to face you simultaneously.

You suppress your smile at their adorable wide-eyed expressions and ask, "Who's hungry?"

After the snacks are quickly devoured, the kids try to convince you to play hide-and-seek and, thinking nothing of it since Suna-san should be arriving soon to pick Kiyoshi up, you tell them you'll all play later and convince them to build a Lego structure instead. Happy to have them work on an activity that keeps them occupied in one place for the remainder of their time together, the time passes by quickly as you help them put together their incredibly creative vision.

When the bell finally sounds through your house, precisely 23 minutes after your call, you find yourself opening the door and looking up to a much taller, and much younger man than you'd expected. He actually seems to be about your age, in his mid-twenties, which is surprising because you'd thought you were one of the youngest parents at your daughter's school.

There's a quick look of surprise that likely mirrors yours on Suna-san's face before it's replaced smoothly with a polite expression. You pull away from his startling, keen eyes to step back and gesture for him to enter your foyer as you welcome him, equally politely, "Please, come inside, Suna-san. They're in the living room."

He hesitates only a moment before stepping into your home, stopping again to toe off his shoes before following you deeper, into the living room. The sounds of the kids chatting reaches you both well before you enter and you notice him watching his son with a small smile on his face before he catches you looking. His only response is the quirk of an eyebrow as if daring you to say something.

You only smile and call out, "Ryoka, it's time to say goodbye to Kiyoshi. His father's here to take him home."

The two kids look up, smiles fading as their eyes tear up. It's safe to say neither you nor Suna expect what comes next, as both children break out in tears.

Suna exchanges a surprised look with you, then crouches down with his arms stretched out, voice soothing as he calls to his son, "Kiyo, come here. Daddy missed you. Didn't you miss me too?"

You're surprised at the sweet, gentle tone from the intimidating man, even more so by the pure affection he easily displays for his son. He's nothing at all like his first impression on the phone, the cold, clipped tone nowhere to be found. You relax a little, not having noticed the uncomfortable tension that had slowly crept in by the thought of inviting an unknown man into your home, even if for the most innocent of reasons.

It doesn't work to relax his son, however, who only breaks out into unbelievably loud wails, particularly unexpected from the quiet boy you'd gotten used to over the past half hour. Ryoka's cries rise with Kiyoshi's and their chubby arms encircle each other as if to send home the point that you'd have to literally pry them apart.

You're pulled from your thoughts when Suna looks up at you a little helplessly, also seeming to be thrown for a loop, "It looks like Kiyo has grown very attached to your daughter. I'm sorry, I can just pick him up and go but..."

He trails off and you find even more respect rising for the man, he's clearly trying not to just completely run his son's life on a schedule or in a way that works only for him.

"But you don't want to break his heart when he's having so much fun?" You finish his sentence with a grin that prompts a self deprecating smile from him.

"Yeah, great parenting, huh?"

"It's really different parent to parent and, trust me, no one's an expert." You pause as you consider an idea, his peridot eyes steady on yours as if he can see you might have a solution to present. Impressive perception, and patience too.

You have a positive vibe and good feeling, so you don't ponder it too long before offering, "Why don't we let the kids play a little longer? They still have an abundance of energy and excitement from the improvised change in their daily schedule but once they've tired themselves out, I'm sure it'll be easier to separate them."

It's Suna's turn to pause, still holding your gaze with a carefully neutral one himself as he contemplates your offer. "I don't want Kiyo and I to be an inconvenience..."

"Not at all, it's just me and Ryoka as it is and dinner's already prepped so we'll just play some games with them and wait them out."

It's just as you say the word dinner that you hear a low, hungry rumble and there's another moment of silence but this time, you only see the tips of Suna's ears, which tint red as he hangs his head for a few seconds.

Biting your lip to hold back your laugh, you add, "You and Kiyo are more then welcome to join us for dinner first. I only gave them light snacks before and if there's one other thing than playtime that makes children more at ease, it's food. As I mentioned, it's already prepared and there's more than enough for four."

He keeps his head bent for another second before finally raising it and with the motion, he stands back up to his full height so you're tilting your head back to look up at him again. His smile is both sheepishly thankful and appreciative when he accepts, "If it's really not too much trouble, we would love to. Thank you."

The children cheer, tears still drying on their faces, but it seems like they've actually been eavesdropping through their shared tantrum and have grasped that playtime is extended. What an eventful day for them.

Suna offers his help but everything's pretty much ready so you put him to work setting the table and helping the kids wash their hands. He's equally gentle and no different with Ryoka, chuckling and treating her like royalty when she insists she's a princess from her most recent favourite movie. He's got them talking about the structure they're building and the two almost seem to finish each other's thoughts, eliciting a grin from both you and Suna when you share another look.

When you're seated at the table, across from Suna with Ryoka at your side and Kiyoshi across her, you notice how relaxed and comfortable the atmosphere is, enjoying it for the space of several heartbeats before realizing you forgot to offer the man a drink.

"Suna-san, would you like a beer? Or something else to drink?"

"I'm good, thanks, I can't really drink right now." He must see the inquisitive look slide on and quickly wipe off your face because he laughs and elaborates, "I play volleyball, professionally, so I have to be strict with my diet even if it's off season."

Your mouth drops in surprise, his stature and build making perfect sense now. Of course, how fitting. Your tone is heavy with respect when you reply, "That's incredible! I was a setter in high school so I know the discipline that comes with going pro, I could never have thought to pursue it professionally. You must be really dedicated."

So it would seem the light blush doesn't just kiss his ears when he's flustered or embarrassed, you can see the flush dust across his cheeks, however faint. It's pretty adorable, not a word you thought you'd use to describe this towering man but here you are, eyes sparkling and a soft smile teasing your lips.

He pauses before placing the meat platter back down in the center, eyes definitely not shy as he studies your expression with a small smile of his own gracing his lips. "Ah..thanks. And you can drop the honorifics by the way."

You already have in your head so you're glad he brought it up because you would have hated to slip up accidentally. "You as well then."

There's a moment of silence in which you think to ask, "How about any alternatives? I've got wine but also various other options if you want to take a look through the fridge."

"A glass of wine should be good, actually. Thank you."

"Mommy, can I have some too?" Ryoka looks up at you with pleading puppy dog eyes which has Kiyoshi attempting to match the look aimed at his dad with a low, "Me too?"

You both laugh and Suna tries to explain that wine isn't good for growing kids but you shake your head at him, prompting him to arch an expectant eyebrow while he waits for you to handle the denial.

"Ryoka, Kiyo, the wine mommies and daddies drink would just make you feel sick and bad. But I have something better for little princes and princesses that even adults like your dad and I aren't allowed to drink. Would you both like to have that instead?

Thank god they're not at an age to question every word out of your mouth just yet because they cheer for this 'special drink' so you move back over to the kitchen to pour it out, along with Suna who offers to help but by the playful look in his eyes, he's just curious to see what you'll pull together.

You direct him to the glasses and bottle opener as you take two plastic, stemmed glasses that mimic wine glasses in different colours and pour out cranberry juice in each. You hear Suna's chuckle and turn to find him already holding an open bottle in one hand and two glasses caught between his fingers by their stems in the other.

Wow, he looks really good in your kitchen, doesn't he? It's your turn to blush and he doesn't miss a thing, eyes tracking the heat as it flushes your face before his gaze drops to your lips, his own tilting from a grin to a teasing smirk.

Your only defense is to roll your eyes and turn to head back to the table, where the kids are now picking through the items they like versus the ones they don't and trading their unwanted portions off onto each other's plates. Okay, and that's even more adorable. It's only been weeks since they started classes and likely met, how have they become so close so fast?

"Cute, huh?" You startle at the low whisper in your ear, a small puff of air caressing the shell of your ear, when you realize Suna stopped right behind you to observe the same scene. His body heat seems to seek you out once you're fully aware of him, instilling you with the crazy urge to just lean back into his broad chest as he continues to whisper to you softly. Or just wrap his arms around you and hold you tight.

Wait, what- You stop yourself from looking back to meet his gaze, because you'd definitely expose your thoughts then but you have a feeling he's very aware of exactly what he's doing and not opposed to the reaction you just had. Either way, you just met this man today, right?

Ugh. You move forward instead, placing a cup in front of each kid, both reaching for it instantly. Ryoka tastes hers right away but Kiyo examines it first before tentatively attempting a tiny sip. And it works!

Each of their faces twists slightly at the tangy taste of the cranberry juice but seem to have picked up enough to know that 'wine' isn't exactly a sweet drink so both exchange a look before smoothing their faces out into haughty imitations of bored satisfaction. Haha. Little con artists.

You and Suna are grinning at each other too, as you each reclaim your seats and he pours out the wine for you both. The conversation flows easily once you're all settled and digging in, kids chiming in with random questions or requests for help with certain foods, but then zoning out constantly as they talk about their plans for the structure and something about cats again, as if it's just the two of them at the table.

Suna asks about your time playing volleyball and you ask him about his, noticing he has the same passion for the sport as you but definitely also an impressive dedication. He talks about his mindset in high school compared to now and you talk about your chosen vocation.

You both even have a chance to pull the full story about the events from earlier in the day, kids explaining that there was an unplanned early release, you and Suna putting two and two together to realize that the school did mess up big time. You both put it aside to deal with later and when he asks what you've covered with the kids already, you mention you didn't think it was appropriate to give Ryoka a lecture in front of Kiyoshi, keeping in mind that Suna might want to handle the discussion differently with his son.

He seems taken aback in a good way, throwing a very appreciative look your way and states that you're an incredibly considerate person and an amazing mom, prompting a full blush to work it's way back onto your face as your daughter throws her little arms as far around you as she can, agreeing very vocally with the amazing mom part.

You have to send her a teasing but firm look, adding that you're definitely saving a lecture on safety and responsibility for later since they shouldn't have left school grounds without an adult they know and trust. When Suna sees Kiyo's small look up at him, it's as if all he needs is a look to convey the same sentiment to his son but he places a hand on his head to ruffle his hair in a soft gesture.

It's near the end of dinner that conversation about each child's other parent arises. Your answer with a nonchalant shrug is to easily state, "Like I said before, it's just me and Ryoka."

Suna borrows a page from your book with a cheeky smile, right down to imitating your casual shrug and stating, "Likewise, just me and Kiyo."

There's nowhere to look but the steady gaze of his piercing eyes. Actually there are many other places but you're drawn in by a seemingly mutual pull.

"Mommy!" You're daughter's call has your eyes finally glancing away to meet hers instead, "You promised we could play hide-and-seek later!"

"Oh," You blink in shock at the long memory of children, "I did say that. But.."

"Please?" It's Kiyo's small voice that makes you pause and look towards Suna with wide eyes.

Oh, he's trouble because he's looking back at you and rounding out the group as the third pair of sparkling, mischievous eyes as he too asks with a teasing lilt, "Please?"

You have to laugh and agree, but only to a few rounds and only after the dishes have been cleaned. So Suna helps the kids wash their hands again before joining you at the sink, waving away your objections about being a guest and insisting he return the favour of an incredible meal.

Between the two of you, you make quick work of the dishes and it's time to deliver on your promise. You start of as 'it', counting down loudly by the front door while the kids rush off with Suna to find hiding spots around the house. You make sure to find Suna first and he trails after you as you hunt down the darling little treasures, finding Kiyoshi last. He really is good at hiding and staying quiet.

Suna's next and then Kiyoshi, then finally Ryoka is caught first and it's her turn to find the three of you. You follow the middle blocker's lead in allowing Kiyoshi to settle on a hiding spot and when he gestures to a closet in one of the guest rooms you quickly tuck yourself into the empty space.

But it seems the little boy has either run out of ideas of places to hide, or he's feeling rushed by Ryoka's faster countdown because he pushes his dad in with you and, frantically looking around after studying the lack of remaining space between the two adults, closes the door instead and you hear his little feet patter off.

Leaving you and Suna almost pressed together in the small, dark space. The silence between the two of you is heavy with restrained tension, the flirty comments and teasing glances throughout the evening hitting you full force as you realize the unintentionally intimate position you're in.

There's a thin beam of light streaking in from the crack between the doors that falls across Suna's face, making his already ethereal eyes appear even more unearthly, like glowing gems in the shadows that mask the rest of his face. They're trained right back on you as if he can see clearly in the dark, his intent gaze probing your own.

"I'd have suggested buying me dinner first..." His voice rings clear with mischievous amusement, quiet enough to reach your ears through the heavy gloom, "but I guess you already did."

You bite your lip to stop your smile, trying to shake off your overwhelming awareness of the man a breath away from you, "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

Suna's chuckle is low, sending curious shivers resounding through you and his husky response succeeds in spiking your temperature, "If you want it to be. Or we could just save that part for later."

"Later, then." Why is it that your voice sounds so seductively throaty?! Is that really you?

In the inky darkness, all your other senses are on high alert so you almost jump when you feel his fingers brush at yours, trying to calm your racing pulse to no avail, as they tangle with yours oh so briefly. Then he's sliding them lightly up, brushing past your sensitive wrists, skating over your arms and shoulders and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake before one slides under the fall of your hair, to curve around the nape of your neck.

While the fingers there tangle into your hair, gentle pressure drawing you forward and up on your toes, the other hand only caresses the side of your neck before finally settling softly to cup your cheek. Is this really happening? With a quiet but charming man who was all but a stranger to you until today?

Any further questions slip from your mind and you only have a second to register the smallest shift of his head before his lips are softly pressing down on yours. Instead of butterflies or tingles, you feel as if the very floor beneath your feet tilts, disorienting you further in the inky darkness. But it doesn't matter much when his arms slide around you to gather you close, eliminating the already laughable amount of space between you.

Suna finally deepens the kiss when you give in to the urge to press yourself closer, a new ferocity seeming to overtake you both as you each devour the other. You have no idea where he ends and you begin, only focused on the sensational moment, as you chase each other's lips in the darkness.

It could have been seconds or minutes, or longer still, but you've lost track as you match his intensity. The desire only deepens when he elicits a deep groan, drawn out by your delicate bite on his lower lip and reverberating through you like am electric current. His grip in your hair tightens and you feel almost delirious, caught in this ardent spell.

You two finally separate for air, short gasps from you both gradually slowing until it's silent again. There's a new tension but also an undeniable relief in the air between you. You feel compelled to say something so you hastily drop the first thought that pops into your head.

"Talk about seven minutes in heaven."

He laughs, louder this time, as if he's forgotten why you're both hiding there in the closet in the first place. To be honest, so did you for a couple minutes there. And you suppose it probably only has been that long, an assumption he corroborates with his response. "Can I get the full seven, then?"

But before you can respond, the closet doors are yanked open with a dramatic move that can only be your daughter, her voice happily calling out her delightful victory, "Found you!"

You send a wry look Suna's way as your eyes slowly adjust to the light, "I'm sure your laugh just now gave our spot away."

He places a hand to his chest, acting wounded with a sad look thrown at Ryoka who only nods excitably in response. Kiyoshi is standing behind her with a smile on his face, proud that it took longer than usual and he makes it a point to state, "I gave them that spot. It was my idea."

They start to walk away with her congratulating him at being a hide and seek master, her acknowledgment prompting a change in their focus to discussing classic versus strategic spots at school. You're thankful for the moment to completely regain your composure and you make sure to settle your expression into something nonchalant when you look back over at Suna.

Yeah, you're probably not fooling him if that teasing smirk is any indication of his keen awareness.

"Suna, that-"

"Rintaro."

"What?"

"That's my name. Rintaro."

"Oh I- That wouldn't be very appropriate." You realize the irony too late as the rebuttal slips automatically from your slips.

His eyebrow raises in a sardonic salute, both of you aware that you're each well past the point of being worried about that now.

"Call me Rin, then, or any variation. But don't kiss me like that and then call me Suna." He sounds torn somewhere between teasing and serious but you understand the sentiment.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, conscious of the speedy pace your.. relationship with this man has been moving, you don't give yourself a chance to hesitate before you respond, "Then call me Y/n."

That slow, answering smile is everything you didn't know you wanted. You're not going to question this unexpected attraction. It's mutual, it's consuming, and it's something you don't think you can walk away from at this point. You're both adults as it is and, it seems, both in silent agreement to let this unfold as it may.

"Daddy," Kiyo pokes his head back into the room, "You're it this time! Hurry up."

Suna walks ahead to pick his son up and swing him in the air, asking, "Weren't you caught first, kiddo?"

"Yeah, but I'm tagging you in because I don't want to be it this round." He aims wide, earnest eyes at his dad. Suna chuckles, likely at the whimsical but simple reasoning, but unsurprisingly complies.

"Okay, but this is the last round, then. And you all better find some really great spots to hide." With a brief pause just before he walks out of the room, he looks back over his shoulder to you, gaze holding yours steady with a confident smirk, "I'm really good at getting what I'm after."

You're left alone to digest that pointed declaration, holding your hand to your warm cheeks for a quick moment before dropping them and following the others out.

As promised, you all play one more round in which you're found first, probably by design, if the challenging smirk Suna throws your way is any indication. Then Ryoka and Kiyoshi are found in equally short order, the latter claiming the title of ultimate winner - at least for today's game, as Ryoka makes a point to stubbornly state.

The kids are still really energetic, remnants from the excitement of the game, so you settle them down to continue their Lego project with the hopes it'll help them wind down quickly. For additional guarantee, you also set a children's movie to play in the background, hoping it'll catch their attention and hold it long enough to help finally relax them.

Suna joins you on the couch, handing you another glass of wine while he settles in just beside you so that his side is as close to pressed up against yours that he thinks he can get away with. Not that you're complaining, no, but it is very distracting when his thigh shifts against yours or his arm moves to settle on the couch behind you.

It's distracting every time he makes a comment in between the silent moments, teasing remarks that steal your attention for long stretches after he's done speaking. It's distracting when you think you're both engaged in pretending to watch the movie, only for his breath to brush your ear whenever he leans in to speak.

It's distracting when he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear before letting his next playful words slip from his tempting lips. And it's distracting when you look over to make a comment of your own and find him already studying you.

You wonder what he sees, but it's undeniable that his interest in you seems to only get stronger rather than wane. You feel the same, undoubtedly drawn and inconceivably connected to this man you've known for hours. It feels more like you've known him for years.

Finally winding down near the end of the movie, Ryoka and Kiyoshi move to the couch, one on each lap and holding hands between them as they start to slump down with heavy, sleepy eyes.

"I'm sad to say, I think it's time for Kiyo and I to head out." Suna's caught it too, the kids are well past the capability of throwing a tantrum again. But even more so, they're both happily sated with their time today, left with great memories of a fun, impromptu play date.

It's time for them to leave, and you and Ryoka see them off to the door.

As he helps Kiyoshi with his shoes, Suna thanks you once again, sincerely and without motive, "Thank you so much for everything today, Y/n."

"Me too, but as I said before, don't thank me for any of it."

"Hm. Well, it wasn't really a great situation to start, but I'm glad with the way it turned out. Meeting you is something I can't regret." His smile is flirtatious but sweet, and you do get butterflies now, finding yourself at a momentary loss for words.

You're thankfully both distracted once the kids move to give each other hugs and when you and Suna comment on their closeness, Ryoka simply states, "Yeah, of course. He's my brother now, right Kiyo?"

"Mhm. We both said we wanted a brother or sister-"

"So now we have each other!"

That's so completely adorable. You glance back over to Suna, who's already looking at you with amusement. Children can be so heartbreakingly precious.

Of course, Suna just has to comment, trademark smirk right back on his face, "Brother and sister, huh? Sounds good to me. What do you think, mom?"

Did he really? Just.. wow. You're definitely red all over, that was so highly suggestive on so many levels. You're okay with the fast pace that swept you off your feet today, but really- acting like co-parents... buy a girl dinner first. Damn.

"I think it's great you two have such a strong bond. You'll keep watching out for each other, yes?"

They enthusiastically nod their agreement and you send a challenging look Suna's way to see if there are any more awkward comments he wants to drop on you before the night is over. He takes pity with a small smile though, sending you a playful wink before turning to open the door with Kiyo's hand slipping in his.

They both wish you and Ryoka a good night as her own hand finds yours and two of you watch them walk over to, and settle in, Suna's car before you finally close and lock the door. Looking down at your daughter with a gentle smile, you say, "We'll save the talk about your choices from earlier today for tomorrow. But I hope you had a good day, munchkin."

"Yes, yes! Thank you so much, mommy!" She wraps her arms around your legs as you place a soft hand on her head, "I love you!"

"I love you too, baby. Let's get you to bed. Why don't you go pick out your pajamas for the night while mommy quickly finishes up here?"

She nods before running off to her room while you go over to the living room to turn off the TV and lights. When you're placing your wine glass in the sink, thinking of the moment Suna had brought it to the couch for you as if he somehow knew what you might want, you hear a text come in from your phone.

A/N: Okay so this is the final draft of a scenario that's been taking some space in my head every night when I'm trying to get some sleep. It was initially planned as a set of short scenarios for my Fayevourites (you can find the link to the anthology series up above, the other character concepts are explained there) but when I started writing Suna's story, it stretched much longer than anticipated. He has a habit of doing that to me but regardless, all it means is I've had to change some ideas and break the rest up into more manageable chapters. That said, there are three more chapters I plan to release. I'm hoping to start working on the other characters for this series first to keep it even, but I'll basically go where my writing takes me (: I hope you all enjoyed reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[atlafan]

Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

·        Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

·        At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

·        Cooking

·        Light cleaning

·        Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to jpwatson@gmail.com

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: jpwatson@gmail.com

From: hes2194@gmail.com

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

//

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: hes2194@gmail.com

From: jpwatson@gmail.com

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

//

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.  

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

[ohheyitsokay]

to date a single father (1/2)

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie) x (f) reader 

Warnings: mentions of trauma, drugs, and violence. a little angst? mostly fluff

Wordcount: 2.8k (I haven’t even gotten to the scene that inspired this thought process, guys...)

Part 2/2!

Summary: Frankie has a little girl in kindergarten and you’re the prettiest school teacher he’s ever seen. Being a single dad makes navigating relationships hard, that’s all.

Notes: I don’t really want kids but his baby is a part of his character so I thought it would be interesting to explore. I didn’t know how to put this in the warnings but obviously this topic can be a loaded one for some people, please be kind to yourself. 

>>

You first met Frankie outside the elementary school where you worked. You taught older kids, and they got let out a few minutes earlier to get their little siblings and to spread out traffic.

Most parents were in their minivan’s, on their phones, honking, or chatting through open windows. The sun was shining, sinking into your skin, and the kids were trickling out of the school.

He caught your eye, because he was standing nearby, hovering nervously, looking a touch lost. And maybe in small part because his hair was curling out from under his hat in soft tufts and his eyes were warm and bright.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked cautiously, eyes still dutifully scanning the pick up area, making sure the students were safe.

He looked startled, then sheepish.

“My daughter’s in kindergarten,” he said, taking off his baseball cap to rake his hair to the side before replacing it. “It’s her first day.”

Ah. That explains his mother hen mannerisms.

“She'll be out in just a moment,” you said smiling at him. You explained the staggered release and noted how the crease between his brows smoothed a little bit.

You got to see parents with their kids often, and you were no stranger to the occasional handsome dad, but when his little girl came running towards him, nothing could have prepared you. His face lit up and she jumped straight into his arms yelling happily. As he spun her around for some wild reason your heart threatened to hammer right out of your chest.

He put her down and she chattered about her first day. As they walked away, he waved at you, and you smiled weakly before tearing your eyes away.

The kindergarten teacher appeared at your side. Her arm casually shot out, causing a running kid to almost crash into it, but effectively stopping him from sprinting somewhere more dangerous. She gave him a look before turning to grin at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to play off your odd behavior the best you could. You definitely weren’t staring at the most handsome dad you’d ever seen being adorable with his daughter. And by no means had you been neglecting your supervising duties to do so. She raised an eyebrow and against your will, your face was flushed.

“I’ve never seen you like this!” she said gleefully, laughing at you.

“There’s nothing to see!” you flapped your hand at her, knowing you were lying through your teeth.

“Isn’t there?” she knew you a little better than would be best in this circumstance. “Hon, I’ve worked with you five years and I haven’t seen a single person - real or from your stories – make you so flustered.”

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the school, calling behind you, “I wasn’t!”

“Would it help to know he’s single?” she chirped after you.

And you hated yourself because you stopped dead, heart pounding, before you walked away just about as quickly as you could.

That night, Frankie hated himself a little bit too, because he couldn’t get the pretty school teacher out of his head.

-

Over the first few weeks of the fall semester, this because normal for the two of you. Frankie kept coming early, and so when your let your class out, you would go stand and talk to him, both falling in love a little bit, and you would then get teased mercilessly by the other teachers. He would go home and day dream about seeing you outside of school, holding your hand, meeting your eyes and not having to look away.

He told the boys about you and accepted their bad advice and excited teasing with stride. You also gave up trying to deny it from your closest friends and they had the best time playing matchmaker for you, even if it was horribly embarrassing.

Every couple of days, your friend would keep his daughter inside extra long to help clean up or something, so you’d have more time to talk. On top of that, the older teachers made of habit of floating by and announcing how pretty you looked or how talented you were, and mentioning you were single with broad winks.

“Our sweet girl is just such a good teacher!” one man said. “I’d love it if she would marry my son one day. If she runs a household like her classroom, I could die happy!”

You felt like you could melt into the concrete. Frankie was grinning, his eyes alight with laughter as they met yours. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling inside of him at the thought.

The next day, an older woman was apparently feeling protective over you, approaching Frankie and him a hard stare down. He fidgeted, shooting you a panicked look before she began asking him questions rapid fire.

When she was satisfied and moved on you finally turned to him saying, “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Morales,” and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he turned away from you, eyes searching for his daughter, and you almost didn’t hear him add, “It’s worth it.”

Silently you agreed, but before you could say anything, you saw his little one incoming. Instead of her dotting father, she hugged your legs, catching you entirely off guard. Frankie made a choking sound, his heart having leapt into his throat at the sight of you with his kid. The sky was cloudy that day – but he was feeling warm inside.

You talked to her for a bit before she moved on to him and they walked off waving, leaving you standing there in confusion.

Her teacher, on cue, slid up to your side.

“She’s been talking about you in class recently.”

“What? Why?” you were panicking. Never in your life did you picture yourself hoping a tiny little girl liked you, but here you were.

Her smile was soft as she said, “She thinks you’re nice and likes very much that her daddy has a girlfriend that is pretty because she thinks that means she’s going to become a princess.”

This was overwhelming. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you wailed, “I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

She hugged you tight, and whispered that you would figure it out. She promised you were doing just fine, and despite your anxiety, you half believed her.

-

Weeks later, you still weren’t his girlfriend, but you and him were just about the only people who didn’t think so. You let out class as early as you could most days, and he was always there to greet you as soon as you stepped outside. Sometimes he would have an “extra" drink for you from a nearby coffee shop, and he always got your order right. (He did remember his daughter’s teacher's, and well as hot chocolate for the little matchmaker.) Once, it was raining and the two of your shared an umbrella.

Now, your school was getting a new vice principal, and there was a social evening planned for parents and students to come and meet him. You were jittery with nerves, the thought of seeing Frankie in a new setting putting you on edge. You’d even put on a prettier than average outfit as if it were a date, and your coworkers were beyond excited.

Streamers were hung, pitchers were filled with lemonade, and you settled in a seat along the edge, hoping beyond hope that Frankie would find you and everyone else would leave you alone.

You had no such luck. After the new vice principal had been introduced to the staff, he made his rounds, greeting everyone personally before stopping on you. You made polite small talk, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in moving on, settling next to you.

He began leaning close, mentioning how many good things he’d heard about you and you realized he was flirting with you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. He wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe a few months ago you wouldn’t have minded so much, but now you just felt weird and uncomfortable. Politeness and politics were part of the job, but you scooted your chair away from his, unable to stop yourself.

When Frankie walked in with the other parents and students, his daughter pointed excitedly at you, tugging his hand. His eyes found you, but jealousy reared inside of him, along with a touch of hurt. There was a new man by your side, and he wasn’t being shy about his interest in you. Frankie didn’t know what do so he pulled his little one in the opposite direction, saying, “Snacks first, yeah?” knowing it would buy him some time.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye, thankful when other teachers seemed to approach the two of you to pull the man’s attention away. There was another roar of jealousy, though, as the man tapped the microphone and introduced himself. Looking at him on the small stage, in a suit and tie, Frankie felt scruffy.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to him, his mind running. Would you prefer a guy like this? Successful and suave? Baggage free?

He followed his daughter, her attention short, as she ran to play with her friends. He hovered close to keep an eye on them, unable to shake the habit. Some other parents were talking to him, and he tried his best to be polite but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the man, who was making his way back towards you.

It didn’t take long, however, for Frankie to see how uncomfortable you were, and a small, warm feeling bloomed in his chest in place of the jealousy. He kept the little one in his line of sight as he moved carefully through the crowds and behind the man. He caught your eye, and the warm feeling grew when your eyes widened and you visibly relaxed. Spurred on, he made a little symbol with his fingers over his chest - something Santi often did jokingly. It was an “S" shape, similar to the one Superman wore.

Do you need saving? he mouthed and you grinned, nodding slighting, so as not to betray him to your captor.

He didn’t need to hear more, butting into the conversation politely, but with determination. When the vice principal protested, Frankie confidently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leveled his eyes at the other man. For all he was a sweetheart in a baseball cap, Francisco Morales could still gaze with the same intensity he had in the military.

The rest of your rescue went smoothly. He guided you back towards where the younger students were playing, and you were still grinning at him.

“Thanks you, Mr. Morales,” your heart was happy, you felt like you were flying. “You really are m- a hero.”

In that moment, Frankie knew he was a goner. To be your hero, and his daughter’s? That was maybe all he ever wanted.

“How can I repay you?” you asked, earnestly, the request and it’s potential making him weak in the knees.

He squeezed you gently.

“How about you call me Frankie?” he said, before taking a shaky breath. “And maybe consider going out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You froze, your heart beat filling your whole body. He went to pull his arm away, but your hand caught his on your shoulder, keeping it around you.

“I’d love to, Frankie,” you managed.

Frankie found himself in a similar state of speechlessness, happiness flowing off of him, unable to make his mouth stop smiling. He settled for squeezing you again, both of you glowing and too overwhelmed to notice the high fives and quiet cheers from the staff around you.

-

The next 24 hours, Frankie was a bundle of nerves and excitement. He had spent weeks adoring you, seeing how wonderful you were, sharing as much of himself as he could. Now that he finally had the opportunity to take you on a date, he was terrified of blowing it. Calling Santi was almost a waste of time, the other man was too excited and gave him advice that required flirting skills he knew he didn’t have. He wanted to put his best foot forward, after all. He even left his hat home, cursing himself because the little pink brush he tried to use only made his curls fluffier.

But when he picked you up, time slowed down.

The two of you climbing into his truck, making small talk before you said, “I’m sorry you had to get a sitter for tonight, by the way.”

And he was forced to pause, looking at you. Beautiful, in the passenger seat, somehow thinking of him and his life. His mind was running as fast as his heart, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what to do.

“Frankie? Is everything okay?” his eyes met yours, and they were so earnest you knew to wait.

Gently, you put your hand on the middle console, palm up, offering. His hand fit into yours immediately, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I… I gotta be honest with you,” he said, in a way that made you sure each word was thought out. “I think you’re really something special. But… I’m really afraid of this. I’m afraid of how much I like you. I had this whole dinner planned … but I can’t. I have all this baggage and I like you too much. I’m not trying to scare you off but … but I guess now is better than later?” his mind vaguely realized he self sabotaged, but it was all true. He was in too deep.

You took a breath, waiting a moment to make sure it was your turn. You felt the cool upholstery, the evening sun, and a tremble in his hand.

“Frankie… I can’t promise you I’ll want to stay, once I know it. But I really like you too,” his eyes met yours and you ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Please, just give it chance? Give me a chance to make that choice? I promise I’m in this just as deep as you are and I’m not perfect either but maybe we can get burgers, and just… just talk? Figure it out together, now?”

He would have squeezed your hand but he realized he was already gripping it too tightly. You knew he agreed though, because his eyes told you, and the two of you drove off.

You ordered bunches of extra fries along with your meals, and he parked a bit outside of town, where the two of you could see the sun beginning to set.

And he told you all of it as the two of you ate. The breeze was warm, running its fingers through the fields as he talked. He hadn’t expected his secrets to pour out of him but once he started, it felt as though a dam had broken.

He told you about his missions, the Delta Force, his friends. The drugs, the rehab, the back slides. The other woman, his baby, the heart break. Even the trauma, the therapy, and being a single dad.

You listened and in turn, told him about your life. Your hardships, your secrets, as forthcoming and he was. You were honest about how scared you were at the prospect of becoming a mother figure for his daughter. About how unprepared you felt for those hurdles. And when you were done, the two of you sat in silence, looking at the rising stars. Eventually, you spoke again.

“Francisco Morales, I still really like you,” you smiled at him, shrugging a bit. “If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to try this thing, with you.”

There was nothing more wonderful than the hope in his eyes at that moment.

“Yes, please,” his voice was a bit raspy. He took a couple of slow breaths. “I have to get home soon but can I be honest with you for just a little bit longer?”

“Of course,” you said, confused.

He hopped out of the truck, jogging over to your side and helping you step down. The door closed behind you but he moved closer instead of backing up.

“I had all these plans to take this slow, do everything right,” his voice was soft, and he was gently pushing into your space, allowing you to stop him at any time. “You deserved it, and I wanted to show you I could do it. But,” his hands found your body, one of them tugging your hips into his and the other settling on the back of your neck, half in your hair. “But I’d really like to skip some steps,” his forehead was on yours, gaze steady, his voice deep and warm.

“Can we skip to the part where I can kiss you? The part where I can tell you how much you mean to me, and hold you?”

You aren’t sure if you managed to say yes before his mouth was pressing against yours, kissing you for all he was worth.

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Education

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published.

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I think every parent struggles with the question of when they should teach their children hard truths. At some point, every child needs to learn about death. They need to learn about hatred. They need to learn about the horrors people will inflict on them for being different. This is something that is as true for ghouls as it is for humans. For most people, it is a fact of life that someone will hate you for existing.

Human-on-human prejudice is still something I don’t fully understand. At least humans have a reason to hate us. I don’t know why they go looking for reasons to hate each other too.

Educating ghouls is a challenge. We need to know about ourselves, of course. We need to know about our kind - our needs, our history, our ways of moving through human society - but we need to learn everything that humans learn too. The more we can fit seamlessly into the human world, the safer we are. You probably don’t know this, what with how much the news loves a story about a ghoul living in secret among humans, their murders exposed to the shock of their friends and acquaintances, but those of us who are brought up among humans don’t get found out very often. It’s the feral children, the big city packs that still hunt most of their food, the all-ghoul communes, that are easier targets for the exterminators. Those of us that are fully integrated are much harder to sniff out, unless we seriously fuck up.

{Editing Note: Don’t say fuck. Even though it’s a really good word}

The best way to make sure a ghoul can pass as human is to start us young. Get us into kindergarten, then elementary school, and keep going all the way through college. There’s nothing better than hands-on training. That’s what my mom did for me, mostly. I was raised in human society, in the human public school system, and I’ve never had a true close call. I’ve never caught the eye of an exterminator, and no human has ever asked me pointed questions about my habits or diet.

For the sake of completeness, I should say that I was in the human public school system for everything except for middle school. It’s not like that’s a great loss, though - everything I’ve heard about middle school sounds like hell. I don’t know how any of you survived going through puberty in front of all your peers.

{Editing Note: I am not talking about ghoul puberty unless I can find a reliable human to tell me what their puberty was like. If I wrote about something that I thought was ghoul-specific but is actually normal I’d die on the spot. I’d call a fucking exterminator on myself.}

Conventional schooling might be the best setup for success, but it’s also the most dangerous route. Kids talk, and that’s as true for us as it is for you. It takes a lot of work to make a child understand that there are some things you can never tell anyone, not even your closest friends, not ever. It’s not a fun burden to grow up carrying either. I’ve known the fear of death for literally longer than I can remember. I’ve known that letting myself be truly honest and vulnerable with any of my classmates would bring it to me and my parents before the day was over {Editing Note: True vulnerability is what I need now, though. I should find a place to talk about my dad}. It’s more loneliness than any child should ever grow up with. I was lucky; I found Scarlet in 4th grade. There are plenty of ghoul children that don’t find each other until high school, if there are even any other ghoul children to be found.

Some parents decide that the risk is too great. They’d rather have alive children than well-adjusted children, so they homeschool them {Editing Note: Okay, that’s way too harsh. Don’t be biased}. I did get to experience this approach for those couple of years when I wasn’t in middle school, and it does have some advantages other than safety. When I was in public school, my mom had to find time after school to teach me about our people. In a homeschool setting, ghoul studies could actually be integrated into our curriculum. It wasn’t completely asocial, either - ghoul parents often use their Society connections to find other ghoul children that are homeschooling so we can learn together. I met my second best friend, Scorpio, because we were homeschooled together.

{Editing Note: My friends are going to read this. I need to make it super clear that Scorpio is the second best friend I made chronologically. I’m not ranking my friends in front of the entire world.}

Scorpio’s a good friend, but he’s also a good case study for the drawbacks of homeschooling. He was homeschooled K through 12 and he is definitely the worst of my friends at passing. He has no idea what’s normal for ghouls vs normal for humans, so he compensates by either saying nothing or saying the most obvious, outlandish lies you could imagine when childhood comes up in conversation. In his defense, those lies are usually pretty funny, and he does connect pretty well with the right kind of people. Scorpio’s got a bunch of very specific subjects that he knows a ton about and loves to talk about. He and Scarlet can go on for hours about literary theory.

{Editing Note: That’s too meandering. I’m just trying to explain why some ghouls homeschool and some don’t - I don’t need to put my weird friends on blast.}

There’s another kind of formal schooling for ghouls that’s much, much rarer - the ghoul private school. The only one I even knew of, St. Raymond’s, was shut down last year by exterminators. Normally I’d tell you to take the lurid details you hear on the news with a healthy pinch of salt, and I still would, but that many rich young ghouls, completely cut off from the rest of humanity… it’s hard to predict what becomes normalized in that kind of echo chamber.

Fortunately, my patron knows more people than I do, so I have more to offer you than grim speculation. According to her, these kinds of places always have a very small student body, rarely breaking a hundred. The lesson content is pretty similar to homeschool - fully integrated ghoul curriculum, plus a few specialized lessons on blending into human society. Out of necessity, they’re almost always boarding schools. It’s easier to keep a low profile if you don’t have a bunch of ghoul kids not used to hiding going to and from the campus every day.

Apparently, it’s that kind of logistical challenge that makes these schools so rare. Aside from all the money you need to run a school in the first place, and how careful you need to be to pass scrutiny from the Board of Education, providing discretely for the needs of that many ghouls is an organizational nightmare. I mean, there’s a reason that ghoul families are so small, a reason why even our extended households rarely do more than scrape the double digits. There’s only so much flesh that can be safely obtained in one area at a time. There aren’t a lot of ghouls that have the resources and the inclination to put one of these schools together.

There is, of course, one more ways that ghouls are educated - the school of hard knocks {Editing Note: That’s such a trivializing way to put it. Have some sensitivity, me}. Given how short our average life expectancy is, it’s inevitable that some ghoul children have to fend for themselves from a very young age. I doubt it comes as a surprise that most of them don’t manage to integrate into human society very well. The lucky ones figure out early on how to kill discreetly, how to hide their nature from observers, and how to vary their hunting patterns enough to avoid the attention of the exterminators. The rest either starve quietly or die violently.

Most of these feral ghouls who survive to be teenagers eventually find each other and form packs. From a pure survival standpoint, this is a bad move. A group of feral teenage ghouls have a much harder time covering their tracks than they would as individuals, but for most, the chance at companionship is too tempting. It’s miserable, being alone in the world. Packs offer most of them the best chance to escape loneliness that they’ll ever get. And for most of them, it ends in a shallow grave within a year. Putting down a pack of feral ghouls is a good headline for an exterminator, and it’s a lot less work than trying to ferret out those of us who’ve figured out how to pass. That isn’t how the majority of ghouls die, but it’s how a plurality of us do.

For those few feral ghouls that survive to adulthood, their lives take one of three paths. Sometimes they find a patron and fall in with a household, and they do their best to heal from the trauma of their childhood. They do their best to find a happy life in human society, just like those of us who were luckier. Sometimes they become true Hunters, living their lives on the outskirts of our Society; still embraced by us, if only at an arm’s length. I’ll talk more about them later.

And sometimes, they become the Lost. Not that ghouls from any walk of life are immune to that fate, but… I’ll get to them later too. You may not have heard of them by that name, but I guarantee you’ve heard of the Lost.

{Editing Note: That’s a really grim note to end the chapter on. I should play with the structure a bit and find a more uplifting note to leave this subject on.}

{Editing Note: Or I could ask Kestrel. I’m sure she’d have ideas on how to better write the section on feral ghouls, and she could help me strike a more authentic tone. But… I don’t want to upset her. She doesn’t like to think about it, and I don’t want to hurt her. Is this important enough? Would she think it’s important enough?}

[ex-punch22s]

crying on my ds 😢

MUN INFO

name/alias: peyton age: 20 pronouns: she/they timezone: cst / gmt-5 discord: peyton#2067 but i don’t rly like using it </3 little trivia fact: i really like snoopy and woodstock

CHARACTER INFO

character name: ma ilseong alias: primarily MOUSE, also known as ‘il’ or ‘miles’. will not tell anybody his name is ilseong, will also never be caught using his actual english name (isaiah). bday/age: october 4, 1998 / 23 zodiac sign: libra sun, pisces rising, aries moon so you know he’s Unwell position: promoter 2 info links: file / bio / pinterest

QUICK INFO

korean-american military brat, born in some little ass cornfield town in indiana but started moving around when he was what? seven?

kind of a shy kid which mostly stemmed from (a) being treated weird for being the only asian kid in his otherwise all white first grade glass and (b) the overwhelming experience of moving from indiana to south korea, apparently the motherland but uhhh he couldn’t speak a word of korean ‘cause mom and dad didn’t think it was important to teach him.

so his first experience with korea Fucking Sucked! and then he moved away without any good memories, kept moving every two years ‘cause of dad’s job and i’d love to say that it got easier but it never really did? he started dating when he was real young ‘cause he thought if he could become a popular girl’s boo thing, maybe the rest of the class would like him too idk he was really fucking lame back then (still is) / spent more time gaming than anything else, didn’t really hang out with anyone outside of school (not even his damn girlfriends) so his social skills were underdeveloped / eventually learned how to be funny tho!

ummm an important thing to note i guess is that he’s the typical only-child-used-as-the-therapist trope in which his parents acted like they were happy most of the time (when dad wasn’t screaming his head off over minor inconveniences and mom wasn’t crying in the bathroom but you knowww!) but then every now and then they’d say some really dark shit to him so he had this very hesitant view of life from early on? more observant than he seems, very “well this ain’t gonna be good but as long as i come out alive i guess it’s fine!” type mentality but also he walks on eggshells and can’t admit when he’s wrong which ties back in with his crazy ass parents.

also more intelligent than he seems. was a promising student in elementary & middle school (which is even crazier when you take into consideration that he was being dragged across the globe & feeling like a damn tourist everywhere he went) but then he moved back to sk his freshman year of high school and i meannn... his grades were alright that first year, but they plummeted sophomore year and stayed at the ground through graduation. unfortunately no one seemed to really give enough of a fuck to realize how bad his grades were (’cause at this point mom & dad were too busy fighting over whether or not they were gonna get divorced to look at mouse, the product of #lostlove for more than 30secs) & his teachers had actual KOREAN korean students to worry about helping get into sky schools so mouse was left in the dust.

whatever though! he was having a good time hanging out at shows, scrubbing x’s off his hands in the bathroom, chatting with bands and pretty people who would hardly give him the time of the day! started making himself known in the scene in late 2015/early 2016 even tho he could still barely speak korean and he had a damn curfew and he’s stuck around ever since.

parents moved back to indiana in 2017 but mouse stayed and they didn’t fight to change his mind ‘cause at that point they were all kind of sick of each other anyway idk it’s sad and sometimes mouse wishes things had turned out different or that HE’D been different so maybe they woulda loved him more (obviously he isn’t this much of a victim, it’s just his insecure mentality) but what can you do! he was 18 fighting to find a job that would take him with like... no experience, not fluently speaking korean, still young as hell and he kept bitching about it every chance he got so idk eventually (in 2020) someone finally offered him a job in the scene? fitting because he talks up the bands like crazy, without a doubt you’ll find 15-20 people at any show who say some shit like “i’m here ‘cause of mouse! i thought he was working for the band omg is he not? he’s really just some guy?”

and like he’s happy with his job... he really is... but i’m not gonna lie: he sucks at it. he doesn’t pay performers on time, sometimes he gets the lineup all fucked up and he’ll accidentally have ctrl opening for the here and now, he owes pretty much everyone in the scene money (non-musicians included!), he never gets everything that’s asked for on a band’s rider, sometimes he books decent shows in really shitty venues, ummm one time he booked one hell of a show but then completely forgot to... promote it...

nonetheless, he still has a job? i think it’s because he can be a lot, but he’s the kind of guy who grows on people. even if he pisses everyone off, there’s still an understanding that he IS trying his best to do well & he’s got heart, you know... very passionate, very forward, very determined and he’s still gonna be having a good time through it all! besides, even if he’s not much else, at least he’s consistent <333

as for his personality, he’s the most insufferable punk you’ll ever meet, probably. the type to craft intricate lies for pocket money, the type to put his foot down and say “you know you love me” while never ever saying it back, the type to agree to be the designated sober friend and then get drunker than anybody else, the type to flirt endlessly while not even being smooth (“are we about to kiss right now?” / “god, you want me soooo bad”) and immediately ditch if his flirting ever actually works, simultaneously the type to hook up once and then call confessing his love the next day just to swear he never said SHIT the day after that, the type to prioritize money over (most) friendships, the type to steal your drinks at the bar and promise to buy you another one (he never will), the type to not take anything seriously ‘cause life’s just one big joke anyway. as for the rest... idk, we’ll figure it out together!

CONNECTIONS

001 — a dwindling friendship in which your character is too damn nice for their own good and mouse is never fully appeased. they’ve got to love him with all the shit they’ve tolerated over the months (years, even), but there’s sure to come a time when ‘you know you love me’ / ‘why else would i be doing this?’ will grow old. * maybe he owes them tons of money too idk

002 — the perpetual victim. even when mouse gets back into the swing of things and manages to get everybody paid on time, somehow, your character’s always the one left empty-handed. they’re currently on some kind of point-making ‘strike’ in which they refuse to play a show organized by him until he not only pays them what he owes, but also comes through with all of the rider items he’s shorted them on. fair enough.

003 — your character actually fell for all of mouse’s recycled smooth-talking and almost hooked up with him, but the second they stepped into his apartment, his crazy ass dog bit their calf. the bite “barely scratched the surface!” (as mouse puts it, not wanting this to be made into a big issue) but uhhh now your character wants him to pay their medical bills? AND they’re not interested anymore? man, this is so fucked up!

004 — best friends, but only as long as the gig lasts. maybe they lack chemistry outside of clubs, maybe they’re just too damn different to care to find the time, but as long as they’ve got a live backtrack, no one else could compare. (in other words: bumming drinks and cigarettes off each other, dancing at the back of the crowd, walking each other home. knowing everything and nothing about each other at the same time.)

005 — damn this is kind of a reach but maybe a (slightly) older woman whom he runs crying to every time a minor inconvenience surfaces: a bug in his apartment (“how do i kill it? should i kill it, or is that wrong? god, i don’t want to touch it!”), a pack of instant noodles (“can’t you cook them for me?”), pocket money shortages (“c’mon, i’ll pay you back, you know i will!”). think it’d be fun if your character’s tired of him but tolerates him all the same, maternal instincts and all.

006 — tough love distant friend type? your character was one of the first people that mouse introduced himself to way back when & considering how they’ve watched him grow from an awkward, aggressively-people-pleasing sixteen year old to this insufferable punk who can’t help but push his luck, they feel somewhat responsible for him. they have good advice to offer, but too bad mouse always lets their words go in one ear and out the other.

007 — friends with potential to be more if mouse would stop fucking around on dating apps and indulging in hookup culture? aka he’s into your character but he’d rather sit just a little too close to them at the bar and make sardonic jokes all night than ever address the elephant in the room ‘cause god forbid (a) they don’t like him back and his ego has to take a hit or (b) he has to 🤢  actually work on self-improvement??? 🤢  the vibes: windbreaker & baby boy by choker, blood bank by bon iver, 911 / mr lonely by tyler the creator depending on the direction it’s taken in 

other — random people he owes money to / the one person who wants to kick his ass on everybody else’s behalf so yk at this point it’s just a matter of time / a couple people he talks big to on social media and/or dating apps but ignores irl / the one musician bestie he’s always side-stage for and especially always helping pack up at the end of the gig / someone somewhat new to the scene who’s already been screwed over by him and doesn’t understand why people like him or why he has a job LMAOOO maybe they can scrap it out by the merch table???

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (1/3)

All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

(A Christmas Fake Dating AU)

Rating: Mature 

a/n: What? A holiday fake dating story? So original, you say? No one has ever done it before? Especially not me. lol. Forget all of that, and let’s jump into this trope-a-palooza of a holiday story!

Big thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over this and convincing me that I still know how to write ❤️

ao3: | HERE |

-/-

“Did you eat all of my candy?”

Emma opens another cabinet, looking inside to the wine glasses and tumblers, before closing it. She’s been keeping her bag of candy in the cabinet where they keep their plates and bowls, hidden at the very top behind some reusable water bottles. Killian is a healthy eater, always stocking the fridge with fruits and vegetables and food she doesn’t think is actually real food, so she didn’t think she had to hide her junk food that well.

Hide it, yes. Hide it well, no.

Until now.

“What was that, love?”

Emma slams another cabinet closed and turns to look at Killian. He’s walking out of the bathroom, chest still damp, and only has a white towel wrapped around his waist. When he first moved into the apartment six months ago after Ruby abandoned Emma to go live with Dorothy (live with, get married to, same thing), Emma was taken aback by the lack of clothes wearing Killian partakes in. He’s an attractive man. She’s not blind. He goes to the gym as often as she does, but mostly, he spends a lot of time doing heavy lifting at his job as a contractor since he apparently likes to be hands-on, literally. His body is toned, and the son of the bitch knows it. He also knows he’s got the face to be able to get away with a lot of…well, a lot.

At first, it was all disconcerting, but now, he could walk around with his dick out and Emma wouldn’t care.

What she cares about is where her candy is. That’s the real priority. But she knows Killian will try to use his lack of clothes to distract her. Never worked in the past, not gonna work now, bud.

“My candy,” Emma repeats. “Where is it?”

He wipes behind his ear with the small towel in his hand. “I wouldn’t touch the stuff. You don’t like the good candy.”

“Well, my good candy has been moved, and we’re the only two people who live here.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, staring him down hoping he will somehow be intimidated by her stare and fess up to everything. He won’t be, but Emma can try. They both have their tactics.

Killian clicks his tongue. “What about the fellow you brought home last week?”

“Do you mean the plumber?”

“Was that who he was?”

“You know I don’t bring guys back here.” Emma moves from the counter and opens the fridge, taking out a handful of grapes from the fridge. She probably needs to eat some of them and not candy anyway. As she pops one into her mouth, that’s when it clicks. “Your girlfriend ate my candy, didn’t she?”

He scoffs and keeps drying his hair, but she sees the way he scratches his ear. Gotcha, Jones. “I don’t believe I have a girlfriend.”

“What? Tink break up with you because you wouldn’t let her eat dessert on your dates? Wait, I heard it. Don’t make it dirty.” Killian walks toward her, getting in her space, and she knows him well enough to know he wants her to flinch, to move, to stop her line of questioning. That’s exactly why she doesn’t want to. Emma pops another grape in her mouth. “Did you eat my candy? Was it your way of wallowing? It’s okay if you did. I’ll take another bag for payment.”

“For your information, Swan,” he whispers as he places his hand on her hip, “we are no longer seeing each other, but it was mutual. She did, however, eat your candy when she was last here. If you really want to know, we used it to – ”

“Stop,” Emma groans, pushing him away and running to the other side of the kitchen. “Nope. Don’t take that any further. Some things should be left private.”

His head tilts back as he laughs, the underside of his jaw black with stubble, and then he’s reaching into the cabinet above the fridge and tossing her the bag of sweets.

Oh.

“I hid it after Will and Rob found it while we were playing cards last night. Will nearly went through all your milk duds before I realized what was happening.” He raises his brow. “You have something you want to say to me?”

Emma knows what he’s aiming for, and she isn’t going to give it to him.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “you need a thicker towel. I don’t think you want people seeing you when you look like…that.” She nods her head down and then picks up a handful of Kit Kats. “I gotta go to work.”

“Off to die inside at your cubicle, love?”

“Oh, you know it.”

Emma grabs her purse and unlocks the door only to hear Killian speak. “It’s December. How do you still have Halloween candy leftover?”

Emma shrugs. “I bought one bag to pass out to kids, two bags for me.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“I do what I can. See you tonight. I’ll try not to wake you up from your nap when I come in.”

“That would be the least you could do.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then she’s officially walking out the door of her apartment and down toward the elevator, a Kit Kat bar hanging out of the side of her mouth.

The thing about Killian Jones is that he’s simple to her.

He likes his friends, his job, his rum, and his women. There’s not much else to him, and Emma is okay with that. While her last roommate was her best friend, this one doesn’t have to be. He can just be a guy who pays the bills so she can keep living in a nice place and who, on occasion, talks shit about other people with her while they binge watch TV.

That’s all she needs.

And all and all, Killian Jones is a…fine roommate. Yeah, fine is an accurate way to describe him at least eighty percent of the time.

Even if she does get annoyed when he brings his dates home. But that’s only because it’s always on the nights she plans on going to bed early, and the noise of other people being around keeps her from catching up on sleep.

Emma is not one to mess around on sleep.

But yeah, he’s fine. Annoying as hell over half the time, but he’s fine in the small dosages she sees him in. He works odd hours, isn’t always on the job, and she is stuck with regular hours in her office. There’s not a lot of glory in working HR for a small engineering company, but that’s what happens when you make dumbass decisions like Emma did. She’s lucky she has a stable job. She’ll try not to complain too much about it.

That’s what she tells herself every morning when she sits in her car and stares at the drab brick building.

Money. She has to make money.

And hey, she gets almost an entire week off for Christmas next week, and that’s fucking incredible, even if she does have to spend it in her hometown with her parents and their Hallmark-like attitude toward the holiday and the events it puts on. Her mom is a teacher at the elementary school and produces the Christmas play every year while her dad is a vet and outfits all his patients in little holiday bandanas and bows. He even has a tree in his office decorated with bone ornaments.

It’s…a lot. But it’s family, and as Emma stares at this building that’s sucking the life out of her, she can’t wait to have a change of pace and some home-cooked meals, even if there are as many downsides as upsides to going home. Her Kit Kat bars aren’t giving her the nutrients she knows she needs.

Being an adult is not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes, especially when going home for the holidays is seen as more of a burden than a gift with a fancy bow on top. It’s more like that turkey that dries up and falls to pieces in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Well, that and the squirrel crashing every decoration in the house.

Happy holidays.

-/-

“Nah, mate, I don’t have any plans.”

Emma quietly puts her keys down on the table next to her front door, laying her purse down with it, and she kicks her boots off until they topple over each other and lay in the middle of the hallway. She can hear Killian talking, and it gets even louder when she walks into the kitchen and turns on the coffee maker.

“No, no, well, you know, I rarely do anything, not since Liam.” There’s a pause as the coffee begins to percolate and Emma grabs another Kit Kat from her bag. “I went home with Milah once, but that was years ago…no, mate, it’s alright. I don’t mind staying here by myself…yeah, I think Emma is going home to her parents.”

And that’s when she realizes what Killian is talking about.

Christmas plans.

He doesn’t have any. Emma didn’t know that. She didn’t really bother to ask. She doesn’t bother to ask much of Killian. She picks up pieces here and there, as she’s sure he does to her, but they mind their own business.

He doesn’t have a family to go home to? She knows he’s originally from England, but still. There must be someone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Killian says. “I promise if I need anything, I’ll let you know. Alright, bye Scarlet.”

The coffee finishes, and Emma picks the pot up and starts pouring, filling her large mug halfway before getting hazelnut creamer out of the fridge and making the coffee drinkable. Killian joins her in the kitchen and perches himself on one of their stools.

“Good day at work?” he asks.

“Eh, it was a day. You?”

He shrugs. “The same. I’m finishing up on this house tomorrow, hopefully, so tomorrow will be a good day.”

Emma nods and sips on her coffee as Killian taps his fingers on the counter, the rhythm the same as the song he usually hums when cooking. “So, when are you heading for Storybrooke?” he asks.

“Monday after work.” Killian nods and keeps tapping his fingers, and Emma, stupidly opens her mouth because despite what her exes have told her, she does apparently have a heart. “If you don’t have any plans and have off work, you’re welcome to come with me. My parents are always thrilled to welcome more people. Just be prepared, it’s like a Hallmark movie up there.”

His eyes widen, the blue lighting up, and his upper lip starts to quiver, laughter very obviously waiting to break through. Dammit, why the hell did she decide to be nice? This is going to give him all of the wrong ideas.

“Why, Swan,” he smirks, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped-up hand, “are you inviting me home for the holidays with you? You’ve been harboring a crush this entire time, haven’t you? I can’t say I’m surprised. I see the way you look at me when I finish up in the bathroom. Don’t be ashamed of it. Most women find me attractive.”

Emma flicks Killian’s forehead, and really, he should be thrilled she didn’t dump her hot coffee on his lap like she wanted to.

“I was just trying to be nice. You didn’t have to be an asshole about it.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns on her heels to walk away. She is going to her room. She doesn’t have to put up with his shit. “Forget I even offered.”

“Wait, wait, Swan.” Emma’s shoulders tense, and she doesn’t turn around. “Are you serious about your offer?”

“I mean, it would have some conditions in that you are a slightly less obnoxious version of yourself, but yeah, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you can come home with me.”

“I’d like that.” Emma twists around, trying to size him up, and for once, everything seems genuine. “I have a condition as well.”

Idiot. “What could your condition possibly be?”

He winks, and she already knows this is going to have her eyes rolling so far into the back of her head they get stuck there. “Don’t go falling in love with me.”

What a cheesy ass sarcastic line.

“In your dreams, Jones.”

What the hell has she gotten herself into? This is absolutely the last time she lets her conscience guilt her into doing something nice. Emma was already going to be miserable, but now she’s miserable with a buffer.

At least her mom will be happy getting to go into hostess mode.

-/-

In the days leading up to them leaving for Storybrooke, Emma convinces herself Killian is going to back out of the trip. He’ll realize this is awkward and not a good idea. They live together, sure, but they don’t actually know each other. They’re not close friends.

But Killian never backs out. Instead he asks her things like what the weather is like there, if her parents drink wine, if he needs to bring his own bedding. He asks a million questions a day, and they continue when they’re in her bug making the drive from Boston to Storybrooke. He wants to know what her parents do for a living, what their hobbies are, pretty much everything someone needs to know when they’re about to spend half a week in the house of strangers.

Strangers who don’t actually know they’re having someone stay at their house to awkwardly sit on the sidelines as Emma’s family celebrates the holidays and has their usual holiday arguments.

Yeah, Emma didn’t ever tell her parents Killian was coming. She knows her mom well enough to know the moment Emma mentioned bringing someone home, her mom would have stopped listening before Emma could explain that it was just her roommate. It would have been this whole big thing, and Emma knows she can handle explaining it better in person when she can snap her mom out of getting excited about nothing.

Plus, who doesn’t want a Christmas surprise?

(Emma doesn’t.)

After Killian stops being one of those obnoxious kids who never stops asking questions, they sit in relative silence for the car ride, music entertaining them, and little by little, cities fade away and more trees pop up, evergreen forests surrounding them. It’s always the sign for Emma that she’s leaving her life and going back to her old one.

That and the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign.

Everything about the town is the same. The buildings are small and kind of dingy downtown, and when she passes Granny’s, she bets those onion rings are the same too. God, she hopes they are. This is probably the only thing that can get her through this week. She should have texted Ruby and made sure her grandmother hadn’t changed any of the recipes. If she had, Emma definitely would have stayed home.

People walk down the sidewalk all bundled up in their coats and scarves, saying hello and chatting with others they pass. It’s the opposite of Boston where Emma can go her entire day without having to say hello to someone, and a little shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She needs to get out of here as soon as possible and to the isolation of her parents’ farmhouse, even if that presents her a new set of problems.

Storybrooke, Maine is, decidedly, not Emma’s favorite place for a hell of a lot of different reasons.

Killian, though, seems to be taking it all in with the wonder and confusion of someone who has never lived in a small town like this and who is a bit shell-shocked.

Get used to it, buddy.

“Oh, hey, one more thing,” Emma sighs as she pulls up to her parents’ street a few minutes later. “My real last name is Nolan. I changed it after high school, so my parents’ names are Nolan. The whole ‘Swan’ thing is a sticky situation for them even though it’s my mom’s maiden name.”

Killian’s eyes narrow, and she has definitely shared too much about herself now. “Am I allowed to ask or…”

“No. just try not to call me ‘Swan’ around them.”

“Whatever your heart desires, love.”

Emma slows down as the road turns from paved to loose gravel leading up to their driveway. There are several cars parked alongside it, and either they now own extra cars or her parents have friends over. Great. Just what she needed. Other people around when she’s coming home and surprising her parents with a guest. At least Killian will likely be that buffer she keeps hoping he’ll be.

They get out of her car, and Emma pops the trunk for them to get their bags. Killian grabs the bigger ones despite her arguing with him about it, but she’s fine to just carry her purse and the bag with presents. Emma closes the trunk, slamming it shut, and squares her shoulders.

This is fine. This is all fine.

Until ten steps later, it’s not.

Her parents have this incredible wraparound porch with swings and rocking chairs, and sitting in one of them is Neal Cassidy.

What the hell?

She doesn’t…she can’t…why is he here? He has no right to be here, no business being here, and seeing his face makes her want to vomit.

It makes her want to cry, too, but Emma can’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she’d like to sink into the dirt and never emerge again.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles, stopping and turning toward Killian who is looking down at her with an arched brow. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?”

God, she can’t believe she has to tell this to him. It’s too many pieces of her past in too short a period of time. This isn’t something she ever wanted to talk about again and certainly not to Killian. She was really hoping she never had to see Neal’s face again.

Honestly, she never considered it to be a possibility.

If only.

“That guy sitting on my porch is an ex of mine. And I’m talking about a bad ex, not one of those who you can be friends with afterward.”

“What the bloody hell is he doing here then?” Killian looks over her head to look at Neal, but Emma grabs his hand and yanks on it until he looks at her. “What?”

“Don’t look at him,” she hisses. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I’m sure it has something to do with my parents. Just…I don’t know what to do.”

“Do we need to turn around?”

“No, no, that’s pathetic. Just…maybe he’s going to leave soon, and it’ll be a quick hello and then I never have to see his face again. Let’s get it over with.”

“If you’re sure, Sw – Emma.”

“I’m sure.”

She’s not sure at all. Mostly, she wants to take Killian’s suggestion and run far, far away.

Once more, Emma braces her shoulders, and she moves forward. If she stops and thinks too much, she’ll chicken out. It’s how she is. If she thinks about something for too long, it ruins every bit of courage she has. Now isn’t the moment for that when this week is one that makes her need courage.

Maybe, Emma realizes, she didn’t invite Killian here just to be nice. Maybe she needed that buffer to keep her old demons at bay, even if just barely, and that was her motivation all along.

That really makes her asshole of the year. Well, after Neal. She hasn’t seen him in years, but he still gets the asshole of the year award.

Neal sees her before she can get to the front steps. He rises from the rocking chair and moves toward her. He looks older now. He was always older than her, but she can actually see it now. There’s gray in his beard and more lines on his forehead. His features are similar, but she swears there’s an eeriness to his eyes and a lie to his smile. Maybe those were always there, but Emma imagines she was blind to it all when she loved him.

Amazing how opening her eyes to love blinded her to so much else.

“Emma? Is that you?”

No, jackass, it’s some other blonde woman walking into her parents house.

“Hi, Neal.” She forces a smile that she knows is awkward, but he was never good at reading her enough to know the difference between a real smile and a fake one. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve just seen me for the first time in half a decade, and your first question is what I’m doing here? Nice to see you too, Ems.”

It’s illegal to murder, Emma, she reminds herself. You don’t want to end up in jail because of him.

“It’s my parents’ house. I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. So, again, what are you doing here?”

He shrugs and ignores her. “Who’s this?”

Emma turns to Killian who is staring ahead, his jaw clenched, and he speaks before she gets a chance to. “Killian Jones,” he begins, dropping a bag and reaching forward to shake Neal’s hand, “Emma’s boyfriend.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own air and possibly her own lungs and whatever else is down there, and she’s stuck. Her brain and her feet and especially her mouth are all stuck. What the hell is he doing?

“Emma’s boyfriend,” Neal repeats, his voice incredulous like the fact that she could have a boyfriend is ludicrous to him. “Really?”

“For awhile now,” Killian lies. Wow. Has he always been this good of a liar? “It’s nice to meet you, but I think Emma and I need to get inside and put our stuff away. It’s been a long drive.”

Neal nods, but Emma catches his eyes glance over at her. What was that? “I understand. I need to get my fiancée from inside, but then we’ll be on our way.”

Fiancée?

Neal has a fiancée? Who is in her parents’ house?

What kind of upside down hell has she walked into and how does she reverse time and get back to the place where things are normal?

“Nice seeing you,” Emma lies, but Neal is already walking inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as if it’s his house to go into. She quickly turns to Killian and hopes her face conveys the “what the hell” look she’s going for. And in case it doesn’t, she hisses, “what the fuck was that?”

“Forgive me, love, but you obviously didn’t want to see that man, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in saying that. You weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, aye?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what’s the harm in him thinking you have a devilishly handsome new boyfriend?”

Emma rolls her eyes, ready to take the piss out of him, when her mother comes running out the front door.

“Emma, you brought a boyfriend home?”

Well, that’s the harm, Jones.

-/-

Emma tries explaining to her parents that Killian isn’t really her boyfriend, that he’s just her roommate who came home with her because he doesn’t have any family, but she never really gets the chance with Neal still hanging around. That would be mortifying, so she rolls with it, hoping that she can clear it all up sooner rather than later.

But Neal never seems to leave.

His fiancée, Tamara, apparently teaches with Emma’s mom, and from the looks of it, they’re great friends. She can’t imagine any other reason why her parents would let Neal Cassidy in their house, but then again, they have always been great at doing the exact opposite of what’s good for her. It’s torture, and as the night goes on, it seems like it’s never going to end.

When are they going to leave?

When can she stop listening to Killian falsify their life?

She’s got to say that he’s fantastic at taking truths and turning them into lies. According to him, they met when he became her roommate (true) and got to know each other as friends first (eh, a half-truth). Then, slowly, feelings started to develop in the little moments, and they decided to give their relationship a chance (unequivocally false).

He’s got this uncanny ability to make everything feel…not ridiculous. She doesn’t know the word she’s searching for, but she’s sure as hell that Killian could find it and incorporate it into a story to make everyone here think they’re in love.

Emma has no clue how they’re going to get out of this without her parents being heartbroken because Emma can see the hope and happiness in her mom’s eyes. She’s over the moon. Her dad, however, doesn’t seem to be.

Of course this is how it goes. Her mom is thrilled because she’s not a spinster, and her dad is upset because she’s not a spinster.

“So what do you do, Killian?” he asks. “You need a roommate apparently.”

“Dad,” Emma hisses, wanting to sink into the couch, especially because she knows she’s the one who needs the roommate and not Killian. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m not allowed to ask about the man who my daughter is dating?”

“You are, but you’re not allowed to interrogate him.”

Killian places his hand over Emma’s on her thigh, and God, this really is the worst night. Why do people have to go home to family on the holidays? At least she didn’t automatically flinch at the feeling of Killian’s hand on hers.

“I’m a contractor,” Killian tells her dad. “I used to work with my brother. It’s his business, but I’m the head on projects now. It’s hard and unpredictable sometimes when my job is to make it predictable, but it’s good work. There’s a lot of good new housing popping up in the neighborhoods outside of Boston. Beautiful new construction.”

“What happened to your brother?” her mom asks.

Killian’s hand tightens over hers while his other hand scratches behind his ear. “Liam passed last year. Car accident.”

Mary Margaret places her hands over her chest while Neal and Tamara look at each other, obviously ready to go. Emma, meanwhile, tries not to act shocked. She should know this. She should know that he had a brother who died. She’s heard him talk about Liam before, but she thought…she thought he was alive, just that he lived really, really far away or something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Mary Margaret sighs.

“Thank you, Ms. Nolan.”

Silence falls in the room, and it feels like a lot of her time in high school when she got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. At least now she can have alcohol or drive away. One or the other, though, obviously.

Or she can go back to that sinking into the ground thing. That seemed like a good idea.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Tamara sighs with a clap of her hands. “Honey, we need to go.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Mary Margaret asks.

What the hell, Mom?

“We really have to go,” Tamara insists. “It was nice seeing you guys, though.”

“Oh, it was wonderful seeing you, sweetie. Good luck in New York. You’re going to be great at your new job.” Mary Margaret hugs Tamara. “Nice seeing you as well, Neal. You’ll fit right in, but I know your dad will miss you.”

Emma is so busy trying to take in all of this brand new information that she doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Through blurred vision, she sees her mom hug Neal, and yeah, Emma wants to go home. She wants to go back to her apartment where she doesn’t have to put up with this kind of shit.

Where there’s no Neal and his fiancée and especially where her mom isn’t hugging her asshole of an ex and treating him like he’s a good person.

There’s a squeeze on her hand and suddenly, Killian’s fingers are wrapping around hers. That’s when everything snaps back, and she realizes Neal is telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, bye,” Emma mutters, putting on that fake smile again.

“Maybe we could go for lunch while I’m still in town,” he suggests.

Emma bites her tongue to keep from scoffing, but she can’t help the words that come out of her mouth. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Have fun in New York.”

Neal looks like a wounded puppy when Emma manages to look at him, but she doesn’t care. He shouldn’t have had the audacity to ask her in the first place, not after everything he’s done.

Happy holidays to them all.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret hisses as soon as the front door has shut and Neal and Tamara are gone, “that was so rude of you! You can go to lunch with Neal.”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma groans, letting go of Killian’s hand and standing up. “I am twenty-eight years old. I’m not going to go to lunch with the man who ruined my life because you don’t like being rude. Just…let’s eat dinner, and you guys can tell me what we have planned for this week. Killian is thrilled to go to the play. I told him all about it.”

“Emma, I still don’t think – ”

“Come on, Mary Margaret,” David sighs as he claps his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get these two dinner. They had a long drive, and I’m sure they’re starving. You like ham, Jones?”

“Love it,” Killian says as he stands from the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can get a wine bottle from the rack.”

They’re all going to need it. Or at least Emma is going to.

Dinner is, well, awkward, which Emma expected, but she expected the usual awkwardness of having dinner with her parents after going a year without seeing them. This is an entire other level. Killian tries to ease it. He’s put on his most charming smile, his accent coming through thicker with each story he tells, and while her Dad seems put out, her mom is every bit as charmed by him as Emma would expect.

That makes it all fine and good until Emma’s reminded that her parents think Killian is her boyfriend, and his place would go down in flames if she told the truth now.

As much as she would like to spite her mom, that is the last thing she needs.

“So, Killian, you can stay in Emma’s room,” her mom says as they finish up dinner. “I’d have you stay in the guest room, but it’s currently filled with props and costumes for the play. But you're both adults. Who are we to keep you apart at night?”

“The couch would be fine,” Killian insists, holding his hands up.

“Nonsense, you are a guest here. You need to be comfortable. Let’s get you all settled and ready for bed.”

It’s almost like she’s in a trance as her mom guides them up the stairs to Emma’s old room. She vaguely hears her tell stories of different pictures hung on the wall by the staircase, but she doesn’t really notice. Instead, she hangs back with her dad who does not look thrilled at the whole situation.

For some reason that offends Emma. As far as her dad knows, she’s brought a man home for Christmas. A man who she loves enough to bring home, which is not all sunshine and roses for her. Once again, she’s jealous of the people who go home for the holidays and know it’s going to be a happy time.

“You know, you don’t have to act like I’m sixteen,” she tells her dad. “I live with this man. I think it’s okay for us to share a bedroom here for the week.”

“What makes you think I’m not happy about this. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Emma stops at the landing and turns to her Dad, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. Or up. She forgot how much taller her dad is than her.

“Try a little harder to make that believable.”

David laughs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, kid. I’m glad you and Killian are here.”

-/-

-/-

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[copper-dragon-in-disguise]

I have something to say.

And some people might not like it but whatever. I was scrolling through Pinterest and found this.

Here's the article link if you want to read it.

It's true. They're right. We need a break.

For context: I'm a middle schooler in her early teens, American. Public school my entire life. LGBTQIA+; Anxiety; ADHD; Social Anxiety; and a very bad understanding of social cues sometimes. I'm 2e (Or 'Twice-Exceptional), meaning I'm academically gifted but also have what qualifies as a learning disorder (ADHD). I'm a nerd and don't fit society's definition of normal.

When I was in kindergarten I loved it. Patterns? Easy. Red, Blue, Red, Blue. Writing letters? Sure my handwriting sucked but I understood it. Making clay snowmen in Art class? Fun as hell. Library? The best thing ever. Teacher? She was incredible. Other kids? Yeah, I was social. Foreign concept to me now but I was friends with almost everyone.

But you know what I miss the most?

Naptime.

An hour or so after lunch where you could sit on the floor, with a blanket, and relax. I never actually slept but gods, I got scolded so many times for whispering with the person next to me. I didn't get stressed then. I loved school back then.

First grade? I had mixed feelings. Lot of issues from then.

Second? Enh. Okay- Ish.

Third? If I hadn't had the teacher I had I would not be as okay as I am now.

In 3rd me and my parents looked at a private school. All girls, the entry test thing was amazing. I went there for a visit and there were people skipping- SKIPPING!- because they were happy with their education. But it was an hour away from us and we needed financial assistance. If it had been one or the other I would have gone there in a heartbeat. I loved it.

Fourth? PSSAs are hell, my best friend is on the other side of the school district in a different elementary school because her parents divorced, and I'm stuck with her cousin that doesn't really like me (The feeling was mutual), so I spend the entire year alone because I only ever had two friends. I also had two 15 minitue recesses and that was barely enough to keep me sane but at the same time too much time that made my loneliness even more visible.

Fifth? Ten minutes of break the entire day. Lunch was 30 minutes. The wait in the lunch line was between 5-15 (ish) minutes. My family thinks I eat too fast. I don't. Not for that. I don't have many memories of that year. I repressed them because I was bullied horribly the entire year. It's the first and only time I've ever cried in school. That summer was the last time I cried. I haven't cried in two years. I've repressed the memories to the point that I don't know if it was actually me doing the bullying or if it was her. That's how messed up my brain is. My few memories say it was her bullying me but I don't know. I really don't.

Jean? And her cousin? I didn't really fit with them anymore, but I stayed with them because I had no one else. I should have left. Made friends with Scott or someone else who understood me slightly. yes, I had my parents, but I just never told them because they were already so stressed about other shit. I didn't tell any teachers; they didn't know until it ended in a shouting match in the very beginning of my (tail end of her's) math class. I think my ELA teacher knew though. Or suspected, at least. He never gave me points for reading in class. For a year (two) my only support system was books and I had no actual friends. I didn't have any actual friends until I moved and now I have one.

Sixth? The same (Minus part of the bullying, she wasn't in my classes, mostly), except a pandemic halfway through. I sat with people I barely knew who really didn't get me at all at lunch because I was terrified of being alone, of any potential for being seen as a target ever again. I still am.

Seventh? I moved. No Gifted Program. Middle of a Pandemic. Get back to me in a month, when it's over.

My point is that I grew up too fast. I lost my childhood. I have more of the symptoms of a emotional abuse survivor than I should. I'm not comparing myself to those people; I'm not saying what happened to me is anything like whatever happened to them.

I'm just saying that I went through what, to me, was hell and some of it could have been avoided if I had had the social-emotional learning skills to make a friend.

If school had taught me what it should have maybe I wouldn't be so broken now.

If school had given breaks and less homework maybe I wouldn't be so stressed now.

If I had a chance to breathe in those years maybe I would be different now.

I can't remember the last time I was properly relaxed. The closest I get is when I'm writing; when I'm crafting a story that's all my own.

I don't really know where I'm going with this post. I'm not even sure why I wrote it. But...

I just needed to tell someone and if they- if you ignore me I'll never know.

I don't know if I was the villian. I don't know if I was the victim. All I know is I am broken; touch starved; blaming myself for everything bad that ever happened to me; and I really, really want to cry but I can't.

Sorry its so long and doesn't really connect to the picture at all.

Thank you, if you're still here.

[chaekkuman]

HONG EUNCHAE: “I want people to see me as a confident and courageous person”

Watching the occasional clip from a TV show or mukbang on YouTube, eating tteokbokki or bread, sleeping—at 17, EUNCHAE may still find happiness in small places, but her dreams and determination are anything but small.

There’s a steady stream of content being released now that you’re debuting. How does it feel to see the way people are reacting? HONG EUNCHAE: I can’t help but keep checking on my phone. It was amazing seeing all the kind things all these people had to say. I was touched to see some people say I look like Yeri from Red Velvet, and there were some people who said things like, EUNCHAE is leading the way for young K-pop stars everywhere. (laughs) It felt really good seeing that. (laughs)

Have you seen the stories of your school life floating around the Internet? (laughs) They said you were student president and that you looked out for the younger members of the media club. HONG EUNCHAE: Some people also said that if they were being that nice about me that it was probably me writing it. (laughs) I’m curious, too. I wondered who was saying all that and who knew that much about me. I still think I have made good use of my time at school. I was student president and did media club in elementary school, then in middle school I was on student council and in the athletics club. I joined the athletics club in my first year of middle school because the older girls looked so cool playing sports, and I was even in a netball tournament. And I joined student council because I thought it was cool the way the older kids put on so many sports competitions and other events, but we couldn’t do anything because of COVID-19, sadly. (laughs)

It sounds like you were really social. (laughs) What kind of student were you then? HONG EUNCHAE: I was loud, funny, liked listening to my friends’ problems and couldn’t sit still. (laughs) I like going places so I liked to meet up with friends after school. I was close with my teachers. I remember my middle school technology and home economics teacher really well: He was young and started teaching at the school when we first got there, so he was close with all the students. There was no COVID back then, so he would buy us lots of tteokbokki and ice cream just outside the school. But anyway, I had to start leaving school early to practice once I became a trainee, so I couldn’t spend that much time at school, but I had fun until that happened.

It sounds like you got along well with everybody—your friends and teachers. The post you wrote for your dance academy instructor also went viral. HONG EUNCHAE: I wrote a lot more than I thought. It sounds cute, reading it now. (laughs) When I went to that academy all the other kids were friendly and comfortable with each other, so we were all really close.

How did you first become interested in dancing? HONG EUNCHAE: I always had to enter the talent show whenever we had one, and K-pop was so popular among my friends, so I listened to it a lot and naturally developed an interest in it, too. I learned K-pop dances in an after-school class when I was in elementary school, and I said to the teacher, “I love dancing. What should I do to learn more?” and she told me I should attend a proper dance academy. So I worked up my courage and sent my mom a long KakaoTalk message asking her if it would be okay for me to go to a dance academy and telling her I loved dance so much I wanted to become an idol. I’m mostly really relaxed with my mom but I was too nervous to say it to her directly. (laughs)

What was her reaction like? HONG EUNCHAE: She said she would think about it. After all, it’s really hard being an idol. But she told me later that she contacted the academy as soon as she read the message. (laughs) She said her attitude toward me was, “Give it a try. You’re the one doing it anyway.” So it wasn’t very hard to convince her.

It’s going to be very special for your family when you debut. HONG EUNCHAE: I have an older brother and we’re close enough that we video call all the time, but he’s more excited that I’m debuting with CHAEWON than anything else. (laughs)

Typical big brother and little sister. (laughs) How did you feel when you first found out you were going to make your debut? HONG EUNCHAE: I had been a trainee for maybe around half a year and in the practice studio as usual when I suddenly heard I was going to debut. I honestly thought I was dreaming. (laughs) I was thinking I would be able to debut around 2024 or so. But the others already knew all the choreography and movements when I joined the group, so I felt a lot of pressure to succeed. So I started practicing in front of the mirror as soon as I got the “FEARLESS” choreography video and got it down in two hours.

Is it possible to master the entire dance for a song in two hours? Other people must have been surprised. HONG EUNCHAE: Yes. The other members were surprised and asked me how I could possibly have done it. (laughs) When I was a trainee and had a lot of choreography assignments, it took a few days for me to pick them up. I had no idea how I was going to manage it, but more than anything I just didn’t want to be a burden on the other members. I guess I could do it because I thought I really had to do it. (laughs) It usually takes me a while until I’m determined to do something, but once I am, I usually try to do a really good job.

It mustn’t have been easy. I feel that, in many ways, the sentiment expressed in “FEARLESS” is something that someone your age might not fully understand. What did you do to understand and express the feelings in the song? HONG EUNCHAE: I took it to be strong and confident, but when I was doing the choreography and singing it, it was difficult to express. (laughs) I’ve always loved listening to music, but I only really started learning and trying to sing since after becoming a trainee, and this album was the first time I ever recorded vocals.

I felt like your mature tone all throughout the album was very attractive. HONG EUNCHAE: I’ve been hearing I have a good tone ever since I was a trainee, but when I was recording “FEARLESS,” the feedback was all, You have to sing with more power, more confidence! It needs more emotion! But it was hard because I couldn’t express that emotion at first. I have to sound really fearless when I sing the part that goes, “I got no fear, no fear,” but I wasn’t sure how to convey that at first. I think I just tried to sound fearless like it says. (laughs)

You have to be good at the basics to dance well to a song like “Blue Flame,” and with so many different moves coming on so fast with no break, it must be very draining. Wasn’t it difficult to practice for? HONG EUNCHAE: The choreography for “Blue Flame” is really physically demanding. (laughs) But the song is cheerful and the dance is adorable so it was fun, and I tried to get that cheerful, fresh feeling across. I didn’t realize it when I was young and just liked to dance, but the basics are really important. I hated practicing the basics when I studied at an academy because I thought it was boring. But now I think I should have tried harder back then. (laughs)

I can’t imagine it could have been easy practicing several songs, recording them and shooting all the different photos and videos in such a hurry after you suddenly found out you were going to debut. HONG EUNCHAE: Everything was awkward at first. And it was amazing seeing all the different outfits. (laughs) I was really nervous when it was just me with all the staff taking pictures of me for my individual photos and videos. The film captures the emotional rollercoaster that is adolescence, so I had to keep changing my clothes and makeup and I tried to be outgoing when I put on cute, bright clothes, and act angry when I was in tougher looking clothes. It wasn’t easy expressing different emotions every time I changed my makeup and clothing. I was really nervous when we filmed the trailer, too, but Kkura held my hand so I wouldn’t feel scared.

You’re the youngest member of the group, but I guess you feel like you can rely on the older girls. HONG EUNCHAE: Kkura is sort of a kind robot. (laughs) She always quietly comes over and looks after me. When I first saw her, I thought, Wow, I just saw a celebrity! But I heard later that when she saw me struggling on the first day, she asked the instructors how to get closer to me and take care of me, and I was so thankful for that. CHAEWON seemed like more of a quiet person than she did on TV, too, so I was secretly worrying about how to get close with her, but we joke with each other every day now, and we laugh even when we just look at each other. (laughs) I’ve been close with GARAM ever since we were trainees and I’m really close with YUNJIN and Zuha too, so it’s impossible to say who I’m closest with. We were just naturally and suddenly really close. (laughs)

What’s it like living with the other members? HONG EUNCHAE: I always liked being with older girls, even when I was in dance academy, so it was always my dream to debut as the youngest member of a group. They always dote on me, and laugh and call me cute whatever I’m doing. (laugh) Anyway, I’m having a great time thanks to knowing these amazing girls. We spend so much time practicing that we don’t have a lot of time to do anything else with each other, but sometimes when we get a late start we’ll order jjimdak or YUNJIN will slice up some fruit for us in the kitchen.

Is there anything you learned about yourself while living with the group? HONG EUNCHAE: I think being with them has made me feel like I have to be fast when I do things like shower or dry my hair. I actually find a lot of things to be a hassle. I already knew that, but living away from my mom reminded me how lazy I am. Always leaving things out … (laughs) YUNJIN is the only one in the group whose MBTI ends with a J, so I’d say she’s the tidiest one.

I can’t not ask you this, since it’s so popular now (laughs) but what is your MBTI? HONG EUNCHAE: I’m ISFP. I always hang out in bed. I’m sort of a lazy homebody but I’m really outgoing for an “I.” (laughs) We all talk about MBTI a lot, and since there’s so much difference between Ts and Fs, we’re always saying things like, “What makes you think that?” (laughs)

What’s the biggest difference between all of you? (laughs) HONG EUNCHAE: N types use their imaginations a lot and love to ask what-if questions, apparently. But I can’t understand why anyone wants to ask “what if.” (laughs) When someone asks, “What if I turn into an animal?” I’m just, “What? Why are you worried about turning into an animal?” (laughs)

You adjusted to everything you have to practice and made good friends with the others very quickly. You must be full of emotion when you look back on that time. HONG EUNCHAE: I actually cried on the first or second day right after I joined. There was so much to catch up on, and so much that I had to do, and I really wanted to do it well, but I felt like I wasn’t good enough, so I felt really sorry and got very upset. So I told the other members honestly, “This isn’t easy to adjust to and there’s still so much to learn,” and then everyone cried together. I think we really opened up to each other and became closer after that. I also missed my mom up to the third day (laughs) but I adjusted quickly thanks to the other members opening up to me and being kind.

I think you overcame that situation really well, considering you’re still young. HONG EUNCHAE: I cried on the way home when I first became a trainee and I said to my mom, “I’m quitting.” When I get deep into my thoughts, I really get in deep, so when I feel a little upset because I’m not doing as well in practice as I want to, I can’t stop thinking about it. But I tell myself there’s no way around it and I just have to do it, and I space out and clear my head, and get a hold of myself. It’s actually been a great opportunity. I thought it was a process I just had to go through with because I knew how hard and stressful it would be and still chose to do it. Now I think about how I really, really would have regretted it if I gave up and that it’s a good thing I didn’t.

You chose to be an idol even though you knew it wouldn’t be an easy task. What kind of energy would you like to give your fans through what you do? HONG EUNCHAE: I went to Dream Concert in 2018, and when I saw all the fans cheering so hard during SEVENTEEN’s performance, I thought to myself, I want to be up on that stage, too. And, even before I dreamed of being an idol, I wanted to be someone who could help others in person, like a teacher or a paramedic. I’m usually shy around strangers, but I want to be someone who’s bright and can give strength to other people. So I like to make the other members laugh and give them whatever strength I can when they’re having a hard time, and I want to be a really energetic and cheerful artist for the fans.

You’ll be meeting your fans in person soon. What would you like them to think and feel about you? HONG EUNCHAE: It doesn’t really feel real yet that I’m going to be up there in front of my fans. (laughs) But we’re going to have fan signing events in the future and I want to talk about my everyday life with them. When we were filming the debut trailer, I kept worrying whether I was doing a good job or doing it right, when the instructor said to me, “Show me the cool, indescribable side of you that only comes out when you’re dancing.” That’s when I discovered that I have that side in me, too. I want people to see me as a confident and courageous person, just like the album concept.

© source

[taecalikook]

(Not) Just Friends

summary : Befriending the fuckboy with devilishly handsome face and emotional capacity of a pea is not exactly your choice, especially when you met him when you were in fifth grade, attracted for the unhealthy vermillion shaded face of the nerd he was that fateful day. So is Jungkook, as he is already putting strictly platonic label on your forehead and calls it a day. But it is only a matter of time before everything changes, and it only takes a frat party, lots of booze and... a certain Kim Seokjin.

{friends to lovers! au, fuckboy! au, fratboy! au}

pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (side kim seokjin)

genre : major fluff, a sprinkle of angst and borderline crack

word count : 24.612 (one-shot)

==============

“Hi, pumpkin! Is that for me?”

You were just sipping on your morning espresso, sitting in your favorite coffee shop while reading your favorite book of all time when the familiar annoying voice of your childhood best friend rang in your ear. You look up, finding the hateful smirk on his lips that you desperately want to strangle off of him, more for interrupting your sacred solitude morning routine—well not really solitude since you did promise him breakfast before class today. But as per usual, he just had to steal the glass you had in your grasps, sipping on the tasteful liquid while scrunching his eyebrows on your choice of reads.

“Isn’t it too early for The Great Gatsby in such a wonderful morning?”

“Isn’t it getting too old for you to keep drinking my coffee?” You bite back in the same bratty manner he displays. Jungkook chuckles, resting the cup back with a slight grimace. Probably because the coffee is tad too bitter for a sweet-crazed tooth like him. “You don’t even like espresso. I don’t even know why you always want a taste of my coffee.”

“Nah, I just want to mess with you fam.” He smirks, the bitterness still leaving a mark on his taste buds. Serve him right, you roll your eyes and try to center your attention back to your book. This idiot really knows no boundaries when it comes to you, you swear to God.

You and Jungkook have been best friends since both of you were kids. As cliché as it sounds, you met Jungkook when he was a total nerd in fifth grade of elementary school. He perfectly embraces the nerd stereotype at that time, thick ass glasses, braces, carrying books and his neon green nintendo nearly everywhere. You were not really interested in befriending the nerd, but when he got shamed by the cool girls for giving them chocolates for Valentine's Day—an expensive chocolate, for anyone keeping notes—you quickly stepped in when it seemed like it went overboard. 

Jungkook was bullied in the middle of the school yard with everyone to witness, for giving the girl he likes a chocolate on fucking Valentine’s Day. You noticed how ashamed he was—lips quivering, heads hanging low and the most distinctive feature is his cheek and ears, literally turning to the shade of vermillion. You did not know whether it is healthy for a face to be that red—you were terrified he might pass out—but yet those girls were still keen on mocking his sincere acts and his shy expression, not showing a sign to stop anytime soon.

Your consciousness literally forced you to step in, jumping on between them and literally yell at those girls. You forcefully stole the chocolate from one of the girls' grasp, eating them on the spot and shouted in irritation, “Done! I ate everything, so stop bullying him. You girls should be ashamed of yourself, he did nothing wrong!”

The imbecile girls were embarrassed, because their show was immediately stopped by an unpopular girl they never saw before in front of the whole school to see. One girl who seemed to be like the leader of the lunatic gang suddenly moved forward and pushed you until you fell on your back, and you know that was it. You seriously had been waiting to use your taekwondo skills for a better cause, and at that time, you saw the chance and took it whole-heartedly. You were not even using your full strength on her—you mostly used your defense technique when she was giving multiple amateur punches. You really lost everything when she grabbed your hair and pulled it hard (like most amateur girls would fight). The pain on your scalp hurt from the vicious pull, so you mildly used the front kick technique on her to push her away yet she easily fell down like a limp noodle, scraping her body with a small amount of the blood trickling out.

After the fight ensued and was broken off by one of the teachers, you and the crying girl were taken to the headmaster’s office. You were going to be punished severely, but fortunately some witnesses came to your rescue, you and the girl received punishment of detention for one month straight. Somehow, the spoiled annoying girl got out of the punishment with her parents persuasion, yet not really the same for your strict parents. They were furious for you to be punished for a physical fight in school that they directly cut you from your twice-a-week taekwondo classes you loved so much—thinking that it must be a bad influence for you. Not only that, you were also grounded and was forbidden to go out of the house for a month. You were devastated, but you know there was no way to change their minds, so you just sucked it up and promised to do your punishment well.

Day one of your punishment, you were sitting inside the detention class, the teacher was zooming off on the table with a documentary of Helen Keller played on the television. You were doodling on the back of your book in boredom. Suddenly, amongst the silence, a hush was heard in front of you, whispering your name. You shifted your head, finding the same boy directly on the table in front of you.You must absolutely did not expect it to be him—the nerd you saved from raging selfishness of the slow-minded girls.

“Hi... I got into detention to accompany you...” 

You inspected the boys with scrunched eyebrows in confusion. He somehow was still with the vermillion shade of red coloring his supple cheeks, just like last week when you were defending him. Is he... sick? He better be not, cause if he were, you were going to regret not setting the girl straight a little bit harder. The adamant despise towards injustice firing inside you was ignited by the lesson you always received from your taekwondo class, how you always must use your strength for goodness. Yes, you indeed will be missing going to Taekwondo classes. 

Realizing your mind had been anywhere but here, you straightened in your seat and tilted your head in confusion at the guy. “Are you okay? You look so… red.”

The boy quickly hid his cheeks with his palm, eyes not meeting yours out of shyness. It looked like he wanted the world to swallow him firsthand. “I—I’m sorry! I just have this weird physical habit of turning super red whenever I'm shy or angry..” He whispered, nibbling on his lips while still avoiding your eyes. “I hope I don’t make you uncomfortable..”

“Nope.” You answered with a loud pop on the last ‘p’, sending the boy a warm smile. “It doesn’t bother me in any way. You should not be ashamed of that. That’s cute.”

Well if you thought his face was already red, you could not imagine how more red it could turn into after you called him cute. Out of panic, you swiftly handed him the cold drinks sitting on your desk. “H—hey! You are too red, it is not possible. Put this on your face!”

After a few seconds he spent pushing the cold bottle to his face, you could finally see him breath again. You were unable to hold a smile looking at the boy, huffing his breath repeatedly to calm himself. You did sincerely find him cute, so different from the boys from your school who somehow really got on your nerves from constantly bragging about nearly everything. Their expensive belongings, their parent’s house, their ability to play sports, and it sickened you. Well you didn't really know the boy in front of you, but it seemed like he wasn’t the type to. You were prepared to drop him the second a cocky symptoms were found though, even if internally you wish he wouldn’t. You spared so much of your effort to take on the guy’s side, such a waste to do that on another thick-headed prick.

“I just realize I don’t know your name.” You suddenly thought to yourself after multiple times addressing him as ‘the nerd’ or ‘this boy’. He was just giving your drinks back to your desk, and then he shyly put out his hands to you.

“Hi.. My name is Jungkook. I am ten years old, and I came from Busan. I have one brother and one dog. My hobby is playing games and taking a bath! Nice to meet you!”

You really were going to burst into laughter, but then you detect the teacher was already woken up and shooting looks at the both of you for causing such a loud commotion. You bit your lips, holding any sound from coming out fervently, your eyes trained on your desk so you would be able to hold them back. Inside, you were glad that you saved this boy the other day. This boy was too pure and kind for his own good, and you were happy that you stood for him.

Well, that was all too long in the past, you nearly had a hard time remembering it. Now Jungkook has changed, 180 degrees from that cute, shy, vermillion shade faced boy you met in elementary school. After an agonizing ten years has passed, he went from a total innocent sweetheart, such a cutie to the annoying ass of a fuckboy jock he is today. What a shame to witness the degradation, you thought to yourself. But you did know when and where it went wrong—he was just too tired of being taken too much of an advantage by despicable people around him. The friend he befriended, his chemistry lab partner in middle school, his classmates and especially the girl he dated in high school. He hated it—he hated everything that happened to him when he was trying to be the nice guy for everyone. 

So in the last year of high school—after the bad breakup with the said girlfriend—he changed everything, nearly everything until it's even hard for you to recognize him sometimes. He swore off dating and romances, he went twelve hours per week to the gym and the school’s football team, attended parties days and nights before fucking random girls, and did the bare minimum in his education due to the shift of focus. But still even by then (actually, even until today), one and only person he would always listen to was you. 

When he failed one of his subjects in the last term of high school—and seemed completely unbothered by it, you were furious at him and refused to communicate in any way to him until he got his priorities straight. He tried contacting you, but you rejected at the first beep. He waited for you in front of your class but you quickly shove him with hurtful words his way, “You stop being yourself, Jungkook. I don’t even know you anymore.” and you meant every word. You missed your best friend, you missed his innocence and availability for you, and frankly, you also had enough of hearing about how charming he was, or how good he was in bed, talked in hush by your obnoxious girls in your classes. 

Few days later, you were already resting in your house while reading a book and listening to the droplets of the heavy rain knocking down on your roof, until a hesitant knock was heard on the door. You shuffled to open the door to find, was expecting your brother coming home from college, but instead found Jungkook, drenched in front of your porch with the remedial sheet on his hand—written that he passed the said subject with flying colors. You were surprised that he even got the chance to fix his grade, but after telling you he needed to do a fifty page review of the economic systems around the world to even got the chance to remedial test, you did realize how much he put an effort to pass a subject he didn’t even like. Somehow, it resulted in more happiness on you than you thought it would be. You couldn’t deny you were already contemplating whether you were too harsh or nosy on him, or he would just drop you the second you push him away. You were on the edge, imagining that you would lose a best friend because of your annoying attitude and peskiness. But he came through.

After welcoming Jungkook to take a bath and wear your brother’s clothes, you offered him a glass of hot chocolate, his favorite drink. But you noticed that he was still pouting, so you questioned it. “I am thankful that you knocked some sense into me, but Y/N, don’t ever ignore me like that again…” Jungkook’s pout turned deeper, his knuckles pushing your forehead in annoyance. 

“You are the last person who I ever wanted to turn against me.” He whispered after seconds of silence of just staring at each other, eyes turning gleam that knocked some guilt inside your chest. You nodded silently, promising that you would not do that kind of antics again.

You remember that day like the back of your hand—after a long time, you see how vermillion-shaded his face has returned after telling you how thankful he was for your presence as his best friend during the past ten years, and your straight-up attitude that set him straight during his weak times. He cried that day, telling you how hard everything was for him. Behind those strong facade and muscle, you realized he was still the innocent, vulnerable nerd with a vermillion-shaded face you met ten years ago. You missed those innocence he finally displayed, and it brought you back to times when it was just you and him against the world. 

Even after that day Jungkook still continues all his fuckboy ways, and until now after both of you went to the same university. He is taking an industrial engineering major while you were doing your life-long dream of taking political science, both of your faculties are located near each other. Jungkook was still being the same Jungkook he was, he joined the football team and brother frat in college, filled with dumb rich jocks who held parties nearly twice a week. After getting few drinks in the party, he would fall into meaningless sex with the girl he just knew before. Not that you mind, you have been way too accustomed in having such a best friend and it doesn’t even bother you anymore.

But still, you were confused how Jungkook is able to maintain his life together—his studies, his jock practices and his fuckboy activities in parallel. You have no objection at all for his life choices—since he never leaves you out and schedules a breakfast or lunch minimal twice per week with you to update you on what he was doing with his life and likewise. Not even counting the times he would get you from your apartment if you have the same morning class like today. By what you hear from him, it really seems like he is holding up just well. Good for him.

“Hey, stop ignoring me, you ugly ass hoe!”

You wake up from your long flashbacks, since you notice that you have been zooming out for quite a while now. You clear your throat, sipping on the coffee that has turned cold, sending apologies for not paying attention to him. “Sorry. I was distracted. You were saying?”

Jungkook frowns, his eyes squinted on you, and you know what he was doing. He was trying to diagnose your silence. You roll your eyes at his nosy acts. “Stop looking at me like that! I said I was sorry, Jungkook. Now tell me what’s bothering you. This girl you fucked with before, did she still try to contact you again?”

“I wasn’t telling you about that!” Jungkook raises his voice, his face slightly reddening out of shyness for you mentioning his bad experience on one of his one night stands. Looking at him, you are reminded about the vermillion-faced Jungkook you met in elementary school. Oh how you miss those reddening supple cheeks of his. “I was telling you if you are going to Hoseok’s birthday party this weekend. It’s gonna be lit, I swear! He is holding it in his fancy ass house with a pool and whatever.” You snort, your eyes trailing back on your books even if you are not reading at all. You just want to ignore him, implicitly telling how silly his invitation was. Parties are never your forte, you feel mildly uncomfortable in such a short distance with tons of strangers. You’d rather reread this book you are holding for the nth time already, you swear.

“Y/N, you could even meet boys there, I know how saintly you have been living lately. Live a little, pumpkin! I swear you’ll enjoy it there.” Still you don’t budge on him.

“Kim Seokjin is gonna be there, though. You sure you won’t come?”

Listening to his name, your ears perk up, eyes slightly glancing up to him. Seokjin is one of Jungkook’s frat brothers, a final year who surely does not share the same ugly traits of the other brother. He is smart, ambitious in his study, and is also the head of the Taekwondo university club. Your deep interest in Taekwondo has driven you to see him in multiple universities and external competitions, and you cannot bear yourself but to swoon over him and his rightful acts. Even if you surely do not have the courage to directly introduce yourself to him, you have been thinking a lot about joining the club with pure—well not really pure motivation. You are also unable to emphasize more that he is really one of the kindest souls out there. He is known as very helpful to everyone, joining as a volunteer in various social and environmental movements. You also heard that he had a serious relationship for five years, in which they had to break up a year ago because the girl had to move to America to pursue her study and decide to break up with him. What a doofus.

You notice the cocky, winning triumph on Jungkook’s face realizing how affected you are by the name, but you’ll set aside your will to erase the annoying smirk off of his face just to get more information out of him. “Continue.”

“He is best friends with Hoseok. I know he is not really a party type—you probably know that better than I do—but this one's for his friend's birthday party. He’ll come.” Jungkook says, munching on the served american breakfast in front of him. “You can finally meet him, probably say hi and then bone him while you’re at it. You get me?” Jungkook wickedly smiles, eyebrows dancing on his temple and you roll your eyes in response. You have such an obnoxious dickhead as a friend, and whose fault is it? Yours, of course.

“I hate you so much, Jungkook. Do you know that?” You gave him a cynical smile, and he returned it with the same bland taste, biting on the last piece of bacon. 

“Can.. Can I bring Lia too?” You hesitantly asked, biting on your lips. Jungkook’s chewing movement is slowing, an uncomfortable silence ensues.

Lia is your apartment roommate, a cute girl with the same major as yours. Short height, big round eyes and straight hair are her noticeable features, and what troubles Jungkook for Lia’s presence in your discussions, is her uncanny resemblance to his high school ex girlfriend. Her similar name, her looks, her height, her choice of outfit and nearly everything, reminded him of the girl he has been trying to forget. You were surprised while meeting her too at first, but you did not realize how the resemblance would bother Jungkook that much. Well probably, Jungkook was still trying to forget about her—hell, this whole new persona of his was founded by his heartbreak towards the bitter-ended relationship.

You remember how head over heels was Jungkook towards his ex-girlfriend. Whenever he is around her, or just thinking about her when she was brought up in your discussions, Jungkook would again turn vermillion in shyness for his adoration of the girl. He would waste hours, with all his power and wealth to make the girl happy—without telling you at that time about how much he spent for her, since he knew how fervently you would react to that—and content with the relationship they both shared. But none could prepare him for the inevitable break up, Jungkook found the girl was cheating on him with another older guy, in which he found out who was her source of income too. Jungkook was devastated, heartbroken and that's the turning point when he swore off romances and relationships at all cost. You tried your best in helping him mend the broken pieces caused by the vicious witch of an ex-girlfriend, but you know none of it was the same ever again. What you could and promise to do is to be there for your best friend, at all times.

“It’s—it’s okay. I think I am just overreacting over all of this. I swear.” He sighs, sounding a little bit tired of everything and putting the utensils on his plate. You lean closer, waiting for the continuation of his spoken mind. “I am so fucked up, Y/N. Like, there are so many things that keep reminding me of her. You know how evil she is, and everything she did to me—but I still find myself missing her so much it’s crazy. It’s been nearly two years, but I still think about her—a lot. The girl I was with last night. The girl I met at a party two weeks ago. Your roommate—gosh, i’m so tired.” He sadly groans, hiding his face behind his palm. Oh, how you wish to take away some of the pain he feels.

“I think.. I think you just need to stop pushing it away, Jungkook..” You softly speak, your palm caressing his shoulder to his arm in sympathy. Jungkook let out another sigh, resting his palm over yours, eyes filled with frustration over himself.  “I think the more you are trying to stop thinking about her, the less you are able to overcome it. Just let it go. Confront it. Confront everything that reminds you of her, and tell yourself that you are slowly but surely overcoming the hunch.”

Jungkook silently nods for a while zooming out to the street, until at one point he slowly squints his eyes on you, full of suspicion. You choose to look away, trying to be nonchalant of his suspecting gaze.

“You just want me to allow your friend to go to the party so you will have a companion to meet Seokjin, right?”

Well, you should know you are going to be caught red-handed, but it should not this fast, though. Are you that obvious or it’s just another episode of Jungkook knowing you better than you do? “You know how much I need to meet him, Jungkook! You are my friend, you should help me with this. I need her as my support.” You defend yourself, arms folded in front of your chest in agitation. You are desperately in need of  Lia there, so at least when you embarrass yourself in front of a cheering crowd—or worst, Seokjin himself—you will have support that helps you get into that taxi and drive yourself to the nearest cliff. You won’t even expect Jungkook to be  there for you, he must be off somewhere fucking bimbos and that’s just how less you expect of him.

“Hey, I can be your wingman to score him too! Are you kidding me? I am his kind, I know how to get you to him better than that friend of yours.” Jungkook scrunch his nose in distaste of your doubts about him. You scoff loudly, pushing your cold coffee away so you or Jungkook’s slob trait will not nudge or drop it to pieces mid argument. That surely happened before, and you do not want another dirty look thrown by the waitress at the both of you for causing troubles, yet again.

“Stop kidding me. First, you are not his kind. He is not a fuckboy. And what would happen if I go there with you are first, you missing at twenty minutes mark and off fucking some girl on the upstair bedroom or even worse, in the restroom and I’ll just be foolishly standing in the corner like fucking nerd who miss her literature club meeting with expectation to meet a cute, faithful guy in some dumb frat parties, fell in love and get married to happily ever after. Or second, you ignore the girls thirsting over you to accompany me and just an hour, you off to get a drink and those dumb girls will kidnap me and feed me to the lion. I don’t see any positive scenario over you, accompanying me to the party. No thanks.”

Jungkook is surely bewildered over the scenario you just play out to him. You take a deep breath, realize you have been spitting out so many words in such a short span of time. You are quite proud of that talent, though.

“That’s… strangely detailed.”

You roll your eyes, looking at the watch on your wrist. Only ten minutes left and both of you need to run to the first class.  “We need to get going now. Let’s go, you dumb jock.”

Jungkook sighs, following your step, resting a few bills on the table. “It’s my turn paying now. Let’s go.”

*

“Are you sure you want to wear that?”

Listening to Lia’s queries for the nth time, you sigh and go inside the bathroom to change into your comfy house clothes. You have been trying to find the perfect dress that is the perfect balance of classy and slutty since three hours ago—exactly right after you ran home from your afternoon class. But yet it seems like no dress is right, one makes you look too slutty, or another which makes you like a freaking nun amongst the girl in the party, or another one which make your butt looks massive or one that is too tight you know you can’t even breathe if you wear that to the party. And who are you even kidding? You are putting too much effort for a party that most likely will not even realize you are there. You know that you are not that excessively pretty like some girls that hangout with Seokjin and Jungkook’s frat—yes, you are not far on the other side either, but it’s still a valid point.

“I’m done. I’m just wearing anything to the party and if Seokjin can’t see me, he can kiss my ass. Probably gonna die alone anyway, why do I even try...” Your groan was muffled to the pile of clothes on your bed. Lia hisses at your sudden discouragement, she wakes up and launches a slap on your butt.

“Nuh-uh! You know how important this is to you, Y/N. You gotta try, or you’ll regret it forever!” Lia shakes you again, but you are still groaning against the clothes. Seeing how long this may drag and you still haven’t even done your hair, she has no choice but to drag you from bed until you are thrown on the floor with a loud bump.

“Ah! It hurts!”

“I know it hurts but you’ll be thanking me in the next five years when you are married to Seokjin and pregnant with his third kid.” 

“Now that’s just forward. And delusional. Seokjin is married to me? Seriously, like he even wants to deal with such a mess.” You pout while rubbing on your hurting elbow due to the unexpected fall. Even with such a small frame Lia cages animalistic power it’s unbelievable. “And I don’t even want to get married that fast! I still need to open my restaurant, I haven’t even met Liam Neeson, travel the world—”

“Wait-wait, hold on. Why Liam Neeson?”

“Because he is hot. Like real hot. Have you seen Narnia? That is one god-carved voice, damn! How I wish I could have a man with a voice like Liam. In Taken! He is so hot and protective and do you know that in Star Wars—”

Lia quickly shuts you by throwing a glittery dress to your face, disgust coloring her face. “That’s just borderline daddy kink and I hope you are well aware you are fucking weird.”

You grimace. “No argument here.”

*

9pm, and both you and Lia finally arrive at the large mansion which you recognize must be Hoseok’s. You check the text Jungkook sent this morning about the location’s address once again, quickly scrambling out of the car after muttering thanks to the driver to enter the huge, fancy house. Lia holds you by the waist, giving it a short squeeze of support seeing how jittery you have become since the taxi arrived. “It’s okay. You look beautiful, and Seokjin will be crazy not to see you.”

“Thanks.” You huff a breath, trying to muster a little bit confidence in your steps. It is half-working, you have to admit. 

It’s still early, yet the party is crazy enough you can’t even believe it. Every corner is busy with their own games and activities, the bass blaring in your ear until you’re this close to temporary deafness, and the outside of the house is a large outdoor pool with people laughing and girls with hot bod and bikinis. Just the perfect recipe of the best night everyone will regret—or maybe it’s just you.

You already had your fair share of parties, and you have to admit that it’s not your thing. The free booze, though? Tempting. You are trying to look at the better side of the whole ordeal. Even if you fall short and embarrass yourself in front of your crush, you get the eternal consolation of booze to help you kick the shame away. Nothing screams adult like pushing your problem away with the help of alcohol, right?

You check yourself against the reflection on the nearest mirror to you, restlessness creeping inside your head. Damn, you seriously are just a sack of old potatoes compared to these girls in clad dress and high stilettos which will surely be able to stab and kill someone. You should just pack it up and go home, really.

“Hey! I know that face, Y/N. No! We are not backing down. I did not just spend five hours of your whiny ass complaining what to wear for you to be this defeated without even trying!” Lia quickly pushes you away when you are about to run out the door for your life. You frown, ready to let out some whiny complaints when she pushes your unknowing ass away, right into someone’s arm.

From the countless people inside the freaking party you just had to fall to Seokjin’s arm. God must be joking. 

Looking straight into his beautiful, sparkling eyes, it seems like your mind is completely wiped like new, and you have the trouble of speaking your mind. His warm arms are around your shoulder, keeping you stable on your feet and this might be the nearest you have been to the taste of death.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I think you fell and I just caught you...” Seokjin smiles politely, eyes crinkled into a smile and you are still in the midst of inner conflict of speaking out anything. Out of realization how annoying your act must have been to him, you jumped feets away, desperate to keep a distance. You are really this close to running away, but do not want to be perceived like a total moron especially to him, so you let out a thin, nervous smile. 

“T—thank you for catching me.” You breathily murmur, feeling shy. How can someone not be? God, is he beautiful. His fluffy hair is styled nicely, he is wearing such a simple attire, a blue loose shirt and black denim but damn did he wear it like nobody’s business.

“No problem.” He lightly shakes his head, but a sudden realization comes to his mind as he inches closer to you, eyebrows scrunched together in question. You unconsciously lean further away from him, heart drumming fast in your chest. “I think I’ve seen you before. In my Taekwondo’s match. Right?!”

Never in a million years have you thought that Seokjin might notice—and even remember your face amongst the large crowd, watching him in his battles for your college’s team. You are always hidden, and as plain as ever whenever you watch him from the bleachers, and would run away the second whistle blows signaling the end of the competition. But now he told you he recognizes you?! Gosh, what are the odds. You have never felt so shameful and concious of your own skin before.

“Um… Yes! But you have nothing to worry, I’m not a stalker or anything, I just really like taekwondo and I like watching you—I mean the team!” You shyly correct yourself, internally punishing yourself for the accidental slip. You are such a humiliation and frankly, still too sober for this. What will you trade to forget the encounter never happened and drown yourself in booze in every form—drinks, beer, jelly shots, whatever.

“No! Of course not.” He chuckles, amused like he is really content to see you, nonchalant to how uncomfortable you are with your skin right now. You feel like a doofus, making a fool of yourself. “I really want to talk to you every time a match is finished, but you always bolt away after, I don’t have the chance to.” Then he dare to fucking winks. “But I’m glad we can finally meet here.” 

You are too confused with every act and word coming out of his mouth—did he just flirt with you?—so your reply is simple, and desperate. “Wow. Sorry, I seriously need a drink right now. Can you hold that thought?”

Seokjin chuckles and nods, his palm hovers over your back, guiding you. “I’ll come with you.” You don’t really know why he has to follow just for you to shortly grab a drink, and then he points to his empty glass. You nod knowingly, trying to focus on the booze bar you are heading to. The bar is crazy extravagant for a frat party, with the bartender pouring mixed drinks on the side. You silently gasp. Damn, Hoseok is really that rich, huh?

He continues with a cheeky smile. “I have been looking forward to talking to you since forever, and you just bolted out. Is it wrong of me to be scared you are going to pull the same trick again?”

Wow, you don’t even know what he means by that, so you let out a nervous chuckle as an answer. It is like you are back to third grade, having your first crush giving you hope by his words and you are busy configuring and overthinking everything like fucking detective conan. But you refuse to get your hopes up, your brain desperately screaming to fill your glass with your favorite whiskey. You offer him the bottle, and he smirks and receives it while purposefully brushing your hand in the process. Fuck Kim Seokjin. What happen to such a polite boy you heard so much about?!

“So, are you going to tell me about yourself?” He smiles, and your finger fidgets in nerve, quickly taking a whole gulp of the alcoholic drink, praying it to quickly intoxicate your mind so you can speak clearly in front of such handsome face. Well, for one booze is the best recipe for you during these times.

“I don’t know what you want to know about me, Seokjin. I’m just an ordinary freshman.” You smile, your teeth grazing your lower lips. But one thing you notice is that Seokjin is silent, his eyes following the movement of your bitten lips like he is completely bothered by it.

“Do you like taekwondo? I see you a lot in the match.” He starts with a simple question, while taking a large portion of his drink down his throat and ending it with a sigh. “When you were watching, you looked like you knew your stuff. It’s TMI, but I can’t help but to find it’s totally, totally hot.”

“So you are watching me watching people during a Taekwondo match?” You bravely shoot, and Seokjin let out a chuckle. You do not know what has gotten on him—or you, even at that point. What you know is that you feel your head is light, but your body is hot and bothered by just looking at him. Seokjin just literally flirts on you and all you wanna do is to jump on him and quench the thirst rubbing in the middle of your thigh.

At the time, you notice that Seokjin is bluntly staring at your lips, his eyes turned dark and heavy with lust, and his face literally inching closer and closer to you. You lick your lips, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. Is it really going to happen? Seokjin somehow, against all odds, finds you hot and that's it—you’re going to kiss him like that? Just how many years of luck do you have to sacrifice for this?

“Seokjin! Here you are. Hoseok is looking for you.”

The strange sexual tension that filled the air between you and Seokjin with your lips just inches away from each other is broken by the dumbest fuck of a best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Seokjin immediately flinches, moving away and you instinctively turn your head, your hands scratching your nape out of shyness. You swear you are going to kill your best friend after this. How dare he interrupt the moment you have been dreaming for such a long time now?!

“Thanks for that, man.” Seokjin hisses, his words dripping with sarcasm and annoyance of your interrupted session. He turns his regretful eyes to you, hands resting on your shoulder, sliding to your wrist affectionately. You do not know whether it’s just you, but your body feels like it is set on fire with his light , feathery touches. He suddenly grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“I’ll find you later, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

You shyly nod, and Seokjin turns his back on both of you and walks further away to the other side of the gigantic house. After his disappearance, you quickly land a hard punch on Jungkook’s arm in agitation.

“You are fucking idiot and I hate you! How dare you interrupt us like that?! We were just about to kiss, you moron!”

Jungkook frowns, rubbing on the spot you just hit. “Hey! I am doing this for your own good. You are certainly going to regret kissing that guy! He is not that good, you’re better off without him.”

You hisses at his lackluster explanation. “I don’t know what crack you are sniffing, Jeon, but you just told me yesterday to attend this party and bone him. And now you’re pulling this shit?!” 

“I know! But I just don’t like it with him. I feel like he’s up to something.” You sigh after listening to his nonsense. Seriously, you can’t believe it. The first time you ever try to flirt and kiss someone you just met, and get a response—from Kim Seokjin, more to emphasize—at a party has to be interrupted by your fuckboy best friend. You have overestimated your luck.

At your sudden silence, Jungkook takes the time to raise his gaze and take in your appearance from head to toe. You are wearing your black sleeveless bodycon dress, the one you once drunkenly bought a year ago and always have been placed on the back of your closet. You compliment your dress with a pair of red heels, fresh from Lia’s closet. Your wavy hair is styled nicely, tied up that exhibits your neck line to the slightest of your collarbone. Your makeup is rather simple, but the red lips is just the perfect end-touch to your appearance today. You are simply beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that, you hobo?” You snort when feeling Jungkook’s gaze is too intimidating around your body—you fold your arms protectively on your chest. At your mocking question, Jungkook quickly throws his head somewhere else, sniffling his itchy nose. He seriously needs to catch himself before he erupts and makes a fool out of himself. But one he somehow forgets is that his body is way, way more truthful in speaking his mind than he really is. 

“Hey! How was it? Have you scored Seokjin yet?”

On your side, Lia shuffles with a bottle of beer and a knowing smirk. You sigh, shaking your head mournfully. Your wingman nearly yells.

“Why?! I voluntarily shove you too, back then! I saw you guys are chilling together so I decided to grab something for a sec and now you’re telling me he’s gone and you both did nothing?!”

To answer her question, you just vehemently point Jungkook. “This asshole decided to ruin everything. Just when it is about to happen, Lia! His lips were this close.” You mourn your lost chance, mimicking his lips hovering over yours. Jungkook quickly pushes your hand away from your lips with annoyance, eyebrows scrunched together in disgust. 

“You are creepy, and I am doing this for the sake of my frat brother. He is better off with someone else.” He pouts, his face looking severely annoyed and red. But it’s not just any kind of red. It’s vermillion, just the way you remember it from your elementary school, along with the childish pout on his lips. Ignoring your previous anger at him, you scrutinize his face closely and shift his face side by side with your palm, and he looks completely flustered. What in god’s name is happening?

“Hey, why are you so red, Jungkook? Are you okay?”

At the sudden attention thrown at him, Jungkook’s face just becomes even redder—if it is even possible. Realizing that he is in a very unfortunate situation at the moment, Jungkook quickly racks his brain for any reason to avoid your pesky questions. “I—I just think it’s too hot in here. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s literally four air conditioners in this room, Jungkook. It’s freezing cold in this place. Who the fuck has four ac in just a living room anyway? Damn you, capitalism!” You hissed, unamused with his lies. Jungkook grins, realizing how idiotic he must have sounded. At your last statement, you are suddenly self-conscious about the coldness in the room, rubbing your bare arms to create friction and warmth. He quickly notices your subtle gesture.

“Are you cold? Here, use my jacket.” Jungkook instinctively offers, not even waiting for your answer and unattaching the fabric of his body. At the kind gesture, you are touched as he seems to always understand you without you even need to say a thing. But when you see he is just wearing a body-fit black shirt underneath the denim jacket he was wearing—clearly, that jacket is going to go either way—you immediately snort. That bitch is just asking for an opportunity to flex the unnecessary muscle in front of the girls there, no need for you to feel flattered whatsoever.

“God, you’re both so fuckin domestic and boring. I’m off finding fun somewhere else, don’t wait for me~” Lia coos, walking to the other side of the house along with her bottle of beer. Well, Lia basically knows her ways in and out of frat parties, so you are not worried for her. If somehow Seokjin does not find his way back in thirty minutes, you promise yourself to hitch an uber as fast as you can and bolt out of that shitshow without making a scene. 

As the girl who somehow looks exactly like his ex exits their space, Jungkook reverts his focus back on you. You are busy looking anywhere else but him, your lips clamp on the glass to sip on the beverage. “Aren’t you tired with those heels? Let’s sit somewhere else.” He offers lowly.

You comply either way, somehow feeling a little bit suspicious over Jungkook’s sudden calm demeanor. You know him and how he is at parties. He should not be with you right now, instead joining his dumb jock friends and the girls at the other side playing body shots. This is borderline weird—you don’t want to interrupt him during his fuckboy activities, now both you and Jungkook are seated on the sofa in the corner of the room. 

“Are you okay, Jungkook? You are suspiciously silent.”

Jungkook clears his throat again, but all of a sudden loses all remaining composure when your finger delightfully skims his cheek. “And your face is red. There must be something wrong. The last time I saw you like this was—”

Jungkook knows what you are about to say but decided not to. He decided to ignore your suddenly awkward gesture and answers. “It’s not that, I—I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

You suddenly scoop his fingers and squeeze it lightly. “Is it because I am here? I swear Jungkook, you don’t have to accompany me. I’m perfectly fine on my own, you know it.”

“I want to accompany you.” Jungkook denies, not knowing how to speak his mind in any other way. His gaze is filled with unexpected sincerity, you don’t really know how and why. “I attend these parties, meet these people nearly everyday, Y/N. But they don’t have what we have. And now that you here, of course I would rather be with you.”

You don’t know whether it is the alcohol in your spine or the bass thumping likely on your heart, but you clearly feel something about the words. You feel important. You feel needed. And the way Jungkook looks at you right now? You feel like it’s somehow filled with new, raw emotions you never found on him before. The way his fingers are clasped on you—it’s like he is holding it for dear life. You can not deny that you are mildly confused by the sudden tension between you and Jungkook.

“Here you are, Y/N. I’ve been searching for you.” 

Seokjin is now standing in front of you and Jungkook, his eyes silently trailing on the fingers intertwined with you and your best friend, but refusing to comment. Realizing how awkward the moment must have been for the three of you, you swiftly jump on your feet, cheeks slightly reddening out of shyness while Seokjin still maintains the charming smile on his lips. “Can I take you somewhere else? This party is too loud. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

“Mmm.. Okay.” You mutter, trying your best not to glance at Jungkook. You want to avoid adding more fuel to the awkwardness—well, you are too emotionally incapable to face whatever emotion you were having with Jungkook just now. He is just a thoughtful best friend, why are you even dwelling on it like it’s something new in your friendship? And being the coward you truly are, you answer the offer of Seokjin’s hand, following him to the outside without glancing even once at Jungkook. Even if all you can think about is him and what the hell just happened.

*

It’s been nearly two weeks, but you have yet to receive any message, or call, or anything from Jungkook. It’s not his fault, though—you could have started a conversation yourself, but you always find yourself hesitating while typing words on your screen. Maybe it’s because Jungkook has mostly been the one to start any conversation, and now nearly two weeks has passed since your last encounter and you have no idea how to start. Idiot.

You are still lounging in your bed, mustering yourself to be brave enough to say anything to Jungkook. When suddenly a message arrives, you are startled, swiftly clicking it open. But seeing the sender, you sigh in disappointment. It’s not Jungkook.

From : Seokjin

Hey, you are coming to the practice, right? [12:40]

Do you want to grab a bite after that? I have this coupon I need to use:) [12:41]

Ah, Seokjin. Since that fateful night in the party, you have been frequently hanging out with him. He is a senior in your department—he is even the assistant for some of your classes—so you do meet frequently. It is weird now that you are acquainted with him, he is everywhere, like literally everywhere. Especially because after that night, he asks you to join the taekwondo club based on your interest and previous experience. And who are you to reject? You like Taekwondo, and you like him. Talking about killing two birds with one stone, right?

But now you feel on the edge nearly all the time because your fuckboy best friend is missing in action. You want to tell him everything, but you feel like you have sinned him greatly for ditching him that night. It’s even hard to find out why! All you know that he might just find another girl to fuck with that night, and both of you know that the only thing in first that invite you to the party is because Seokjin is there—even Jungkook propose you to bone him! You seriously hate yourself for feeling this way.

“Jungkook, you are a complete moron!” You hiss, throw the phone to the desk and dip your face to the pillow.

Okay, new plan. It’s better for you to just meet and confront him directly. So tomorrow after class, you are going to meet him after his 8am, and just point and blame him for ghosting your friendship. Well, he is not ghosting, but that’s not the point! It’s a brilliant plan, yet you find yourself strangely terrified for what is about to happen.

*

Tomorrow morning, you are going to ask Lia to walk to class together, yet you find she is already missing, bed is made and cleaned. It’s weird to see her wake up so early since she is absolutely not a morning person, but you shrug it anyway, expecting to see her in class. Still, even after the professor arrives, you find her regular place beside you is empty. You send her a message, but it is met with no reply. Skipping class is not really rare in her case, so you just silently attend, mind filled with the plan you will execute later on.

After class, as previously planned, you directly head to Jungkook’s faculty. You can remember it vividly, Jungkook’s class for the morning is always running late due to his old as hell professor, who talks extremely slowly and loves to discuss anything but the topic he is supposed to teach, hence your plan. You are going to wait in front of his class, supposedly asking to grab brunch together before accusing him for ignoring you altogether.

But then, what you find while walking on the bridge connecting the two faculties catch you by surprise. It is Lia, talking to a man who's back you easily identify as Jungkook—you can detect those small waist everywhere, hidden cladly in a slim fit dress shirt. Both of them are engaged in serious talk, with Jungkook’s face a little bit tense and Lia’s face looking like she completely had enough.

Lia? And Jungkook? Your eyes must be deceiving you right now.

With all will, you march onto them, and even the fact that they are talking, just the two of them without you is weird enough, they don’t even realize your presence until you are tapping on Jungkook’s shoulder with a suspecting gaze. The moment he finds you, he unconsciously jumps a few steps back with a loud gasp, exactly like whenever he has been caught doing something bad. “Y/N! You’re here!”

“Yes. I was just about to catch you after your class, Jungkook, maybe we can grab a bite together.” The moment you let out those words, you heard Lia snickers and Jungkook immediately throws her a look. 

“Finally. You both should eat together! and I don’t know—maybe be truthful at each other? or anything, I don’t care. I’m out of here.” She walks out, not minding your voice calling out to her. You seriously have zero idea what she means, but Jungkook quickly places his hands on both your shoulders—desperate for your focus, his cheeks now colored in bright shade of red.

“Don’t mind her. Let’s go eat.”

You stop your track against Jungkook’s force of pulling you away, scrutinizing his face closer with a worried gaze. “Jungkook, you are acting weird. And you are sooo red. Are you sure you are okay?”

Jungkook hastily nods, pulling you to the place you both usually grab coffee at, not really far from his faculty. On the way, both of you still fall in silence, and one thing your eyes could focus on is his fingers, tightly intertwined on yours—the same gesture he has been doing for around ten years now. 

Is it weird that now you definitely do not feel nothing from just holding his hands?

*

Both of you are seated on your usual spot—near the window inside the coffee shop, right after ordering. “So. Are you going to tell me where you have been these past two weeks?” You questions, sipping on your usual choice of espresso. Jungkook grimaces, his fingers clasping against each other nervously. Not that he expects you to beat around the bush.

“I am just kinda busy. With practice and studying.” He silently answers, eyes still not looking anywhere else but you. And what kind of best friend are you not to notice that?

You nod cryptically, decide against pushing it.  Even though skeptic, what he said does seems plausible. “So, what’s up?’

“Just the regular.”

Your left eyebrows raise. “No news on your fuckboy conquest of one night stands?”

Jungkook eyebrows scrunched. “You’re disgusting.”

You are baffled at that. “What?! I am disgusting? Jungkook, you have been explicitly telling me stories about these girls you sleep with for already two years now. What are you, playing coy?“

Jungkook sighs tiredly. Instead of answering, he reaches for your glass of espresso, sipping it before wincing due to the bitterness—like a fucking moron doing his usual thing. It seems already too familiar, so you just shrug it and focus on the initial topic instead. “I just… I haven’t been sleeping with anyone these past two weeks, okay?”

You send him a cryptic look, and Jungkook complains in frustration. “I am not lying! I am not an animal, okay? I am tired sometimes, and I am allowed to not do that anymore.”

“Jungkook, there is no way you are not going to parties and not sleeping with these girls. You have been doing these for two years. What gives?” You push, as you know there must be something he is hiding from you. Jungkook sighs, looking at you with a gaze filled with strange emotions.

“I—I haven’t been to parties too. Look, I am just not feeling it, okay? I just.. I just needed a break.”

Looking at Jungkook, it is difficult to even imagine him not doing all his usual popular jock activities. And now he told you he hasn’t been to parties for two weeks? It’s really unlike him. He hasn’t missed a single party for these past two years since high school to the point you have a hard time remembering what he used to do on Friday nights. Something must have happened, that’s for certain.

“Do you want to tell me why?” You ask him carefully, your fingers reaching out to his. He looks up at you, something in his face tells you that something indeed has happened. And suddenly, your mind flashes to the event that just occurred. Could it be?

“Does it have anything to do with Lia? This morning, when you met her?”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge, his hands are harshly pulled to his lap, away from you. You can detect his chest pumped, heaving too much air in, eyes nervously scanning away. Too many reactions for a mere ‘nothing happened’. “I—I don’t know? What do you mean?”

“It’s weird! You were literally avoiding her before, Jungkook. But then I saw you meeting her alone. What happened? Tell me.” You persuade, determine to get to the end of it. But the answer you are given is only a nervous shake of head, with shade of red slowly creeping in his face. Another trait that you know from Jungkook, is his inability to hide his feelings—at least in front of you.

Due to his prolonged silence for his orders arrival, you silently guess what might have happened with him. A flash of unpleasant image enters your head and you wince internally. God, please don’t let it be true. You even have a hard time to spell those words. 

“Jungkook, please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

Jungkook’s face is flushed in a bright shade of red, as he shakes his head vigorously. “You are crazy. I did not sleep with your best friend.”

A sense of relief washes you. “So tell me what it is! What is it that you can’t possibly tell me? It must be it, or do you expect me to believe you somehow have feelings for her?!” You mindlessly intrude, but now seeing Jungkook’s face is vermillion red and how silent he is for a few seconds after the accusation, you can’t even believe there is a chance it might be true.

You hesitantly approach, voice caught up midways. “You… do you have feelings for Lia?”

Jungkook stares back at you, and you can see a hint of sadness on his eyes. Internally, he is terribly conflicted. He doesn’t know what he can say to you. He already has the answer to your query on the tip of his tongue, clearer than anything else but he cannot do that. It would be unfair to everyone, especially you. 

In life, Jungkook believes he is a risk taker—he is taught that way, ever since he was a little kid. Risk is what makes life even better and interesting. But how can he gamble with what you both have right now? He could never take that risk for what you have right now with him. It’s too much in stake—a game not worthy to play, and he knows his chances like the back of his hand. So he forces a smile, mustering all his might to say something that he is well aware does not reflect what he is truly feeling.

“I—I think so..”

Listening to his answer, you nod slowly, not knowing exactly how you feel. You are happy for him—for Jungkook to finally find someone he likes, someone who can get him off the meaningless sex routine he has been accustomed to for awhile now. And truth to be told? Lia is one of the best girls you ever acquaintanced with. If one thing you can ever count on, is that both of your best friends are great people that somehow grealy deserve each other. Lia is pretty, smart, fun to talk and party with, and allegedly good at sex—you don’t really now, it’s just what she claims to be—and Jungkook is the kindest soul out there—even if he is a certified douchebag once in a while—but they really fit each other well.

But is it disappointment in the pit of your stomach?

Noticing how silent you have become, Jungkook quickly takes the opportunity and changes the topic he instantly regrets. “So, how are things with Seokjin? I hear you both are hitting it well.”

Your throat feels constricted, so you clear it, hoping your stupefiedness is unrecognizable. “Yup. He is a good guy. I am now in the Taekwondo club as well, so… yeah I’ve been seeing him a lot too.”

“I am glad you finally got into the club! I remember how much of a pain you are, always go on and on talking about Taekwondo.” He rigidly smiles, eyes still trained on the dish served in front of him, cutting it in pieces. God, he is seriously digging his own grave with this fake supportive best friend shit.

“Yeah, whose fault is it that I got off Taekwondo in the first place, huh?”

Jungkook sighs, resting his utensils on the plate. He is aware of it very well, he knows what a fucking coward he has been since little, which may had forced you giving up on taekwondo—something you really loved. You can’t even imagine how guilty he is about everything. You have been the one thing keeping him sane, yet he always thinks himself on the recipient side of the friendship. And the midst of his current vulnerable state, he feels greatly undeserving of you. Who is he kidding? You might even regret saving him from humiliation on that fateful day, ten years ago.

Sensing that your joke may have not been taken well by Jungkook, you reach out to him, placing your palm on his, trying to soothe the indignation palpable on his face. “Jungkook, I am sorry.. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.. I know. It’s okay.” Jungkook answers, lips pursed into a tight line. You can see that he is indeed piqued, and truthfully, it is your fault. He always blames himself for the time he felt you sacrificed so much for him—like Taekwondo, for example. You convince him that it is not his fault since you can always go back to Taekwondo again—you just choose not to, but he always blames himself, thinking of the what ifs. You should not have brought it up and joked about it.

The silence then ensues, the tension between you and him thickens like you can slice it and choke it down your throat. You were about to apologize again, right when your phone rings and displays Seokjin’s name on the screen .Jungkook definitely saw the name too himself. You are hesitating whether to answer or not, before Jungkook answers it for you rigidly, jaw clenched tight. 

“Answer it.” 

When you are in the middle of conversation with Seokjin—and unimportant one, Jin is just asking what are you doing because he is bored in the middle of intensive taekwondo training, so you just casually tell him about grabbing a brunch with Jungkook—your best friend quickly flips few bills from his wallet, raising up from his seat. You swiftly hold him back, cutting off the ongoing call without even saying goodbyes. “Jungkook, where are you going?”

“I guess you must be somewhere with Seokjin, right? Let’s go, don’t want to keep the handsome boy waiting.”

The way Jungkook pronounces every word is heavy with sarcasm, and it wounds you. Is he seriously telling you that you are going to ditch him for Seokjin? Dry tears are lounging on the corner of your eyes till your visions are blurry, and it is hard to even breathe. How dare he play that game to you? Does he really think he has any right to treat you like that?

Jungkook must have noticed your contorted face and inevitable tears, and he is quick to apologize. “I am sorry, I didn't mean it like—”

“Save it.” You curtly cut him, slapping a few bills on the table. “It’s my turn to pay now. And you are correct. Thank you for that, I will find that handsome boy right now.”

If Jungkook calls you again, you are unable to hear it. Too pissed off to even breathe, your head feels like it’s about to explode along with tears that are quick to rain on your parade.

*

After you storm off the brunch with Jungkook, your afternoon class is fortunately cancelled. Instead of going with your words and meeting Seokjin, you decide you are too emotionally exhausted and head back home. So here you are, chilling in your apartment alone, watching netflix and eating popcorn after completing a long nap of five hours straight. Your phone is far ducked inside your room, as you notice Jungkook has blown off your phone for quite a while now, and you are this close to answer it so you throw it away. That bastard definitely deserves a lesson for pulling an unfunny passive aggressive prank like that.

While you are in the middle of refilling your bowl for the second batch of popcorn, your apartment door is swung opened. It is Lia, with a huge triumphant smile on her face. “Look what I brought us!”

You don’t even know the reason why, the moment you are looking at Lia’s face, you immediately remember Jungkook’s claim that he has feelings for this girl. For your best friend. For a girl who looks exactly like his ex. Damn, did you really sound that bitter?

“What is it?” You fake enthusiasm, even if what you really want to do is sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Chicken and beer! Not just chicken, this is the exact brand and flavor you like! I think since we rarely hang out nowadays, tonight we can watch bad movies together and eat and drink unhealthy food and drinks we probably will regret in the morning!” She cheerfully shouts, resting the packages of food on the table, running to her room to change into comfy clothes.

You bite your lips, regretting how undeserved she is for your cynical thoughts. You are greatly touched by her mindful gesture. Albeit harsh and sometimes cold, Lia is really affectionate at times, kind and selfless to her friends, especially you. You can’t even count how much she helped you, saving you from an embarrassment or humiliation due your sloppy and forgetful trait. The mind is indeed a dangerous place, and you should limit any possible toxicity that might be planted and grow in it.

So you and Lia jump to watch some chick flick which she always denies to like, but somehow always in tears after. One thing that you might not realize is that you often find yourself staring at her, thinking about how easy it is to like her. She is really the dream girl. Pretty, strong, funny and independent. She’s basically perfect. You even doubt Jungkook deserves her, seriously.

“Honey, another look and I think I might just go gay for you.” Lia sighs, resting the chicken drumstick on the plate. You avert your eyes on the TV, shy of being caught staring. “What is it? Are you falling for me? I swear—”

“No, I just.. Nothing.”

You are silent, busy gulping the beer to hide how flustered you are right now. Damn, are you really that obvious? “There must be something. Y/N, I will not push, but you know you can tell me everything. Nothing will surprise me, seriously.”

You nod, throwing your attention back to the movie. But not even five minutes, the curiosity gets the best of you, so you decide to mum a question to her. 

“Lia, what do you think about Jungkook?”

You kind of wish she does not hear you, but it is instantly cancelled since she answers. Yup, she can hear your silly question, loud and clear.

“Jungkook? He is hot, good looking and kind. A little dumb and blabber a little bit too much, but I think it’s manageable.” She nonchalantly answers, suddenly her prodding eyes are thrown at you. “Where does this suspicious question come from?”

“Nothing! I just want to know what you think of him.” You bitterly smile. Yes, definitely that and only that.

Another ten minutes pass and you open another question, still full of hesitation whether it’s best to ask or just keep it to yourself, yet it’s literally killing you so you ask anyway. “Hypothetically speaking. If… I don’t know, Jungkook confesses to you he likes you. Would you accept it?”

Lia looks at you strangely — like you have grown another head, when her face suddenly brightens, an imaginary light bulb practically pictured on her head. A sleazy smile is worn on her lips, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. “Ah! So that is about all this. Finally!”

“Of course! Jungkook is a nice guy, he is kind, respectful, albeit a little annoying and dumb, he is hot, which kinda makes it even. He listens well, and strangely gives good advice.” Lia brightly smiles, literally like the woman who endorses cooking items in the supermarket to middle aged mothers. “I think anyone having a monogamous relationship with that manchild is very, very lucky!”

You do notice how exaggerated and odd her sentence is, but when you are about to reply, few soft knocks are heard on your door. So keeping the words back, you wake up and mindlessly open it.

Well, It turns out to be Seokjin, and he could arguably be the last person you think would be standing in front of your doorstep now.

“Seokjin? What are you doing here, at this time of the night?”

Seokjin answers with a serene smile, his eyes sparkling amidst the dim hallway. “I am sorry to be at your doorstep this late. I just… I just want to talk to you. Is that weird?”

Your heart literally skips a beat at that. Seriously? Seokjin comes to your apartment at 10pm just to talk to you? Is this even real? “You can’t just call me? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I don’t want to tire you. You just finished your crazy tiring training!”

“I’ve been trying to contact you, but I went into voicemail. So I guess, more reason to meet you, right?” Seokjin shyly smiles, scratching his nape. God, have you ever mentioned that he is really cute? “I hope I’m not a bother.”

“No! Of course not. But my roommate is here. Do you want to go somewhere else? I think one restaurant near here is still open.” You quickly offer and Seokjin agrees with a nod. You are hurriedly about to grab your purse, when Lia walks out to the doorstep, meeting Seokjin.

“Hi! You must be the roommate. I’m Seokjin.” Seokjin offers a hand along with a charming smile. Lia receives it with confusion written on her face. 

“Are you both going somewhere?” She asks, puzzled. You slightly run to the door, hoping there is nothing to be discussed amongst the three of you anymore.

“Yes! We are. I’ll be back soon, see you!” You quickly smile and close the door right on her face. Damn, you don’t know what has gotten into you, but you really can’t seem to shake that cautious feeling. It really needs time before you even consider letting Seokjin hang out with your nosy friends. Like Lia, or even Jungkook.

Especially Jungkook.

*

Jungkook is sitting with Taehyung, his project mate on the corner of a restaurant near your apartment. He has been trying to contact you since afternoon but you still haven’t replied to his call nor messages, it makes him feel guilty beyond words. He shouldn’t have snapped like that at you, you literally did nothing and he blew everything way out of proportion—especially when that dickhead Seokjin called you. And now he is nearly losing his mind, because he doesn’t want to spend another minute in your probable wrath. How can everything be so messed up?

“Dude, stop calling her. She’ll call you soon. Why is this such a big deal?” Taehyung groans when Jungkook relentlessly dial your number once more. He doesn’t even know why, but another call you ignore, he might combust and run to your apartment, begging for reconciliation. He is seriously just that desperate.

The call fails, yet Jungkook is still tapping on the call again button when Taehyung meddles in his pathetic best friend obsession. “Hey, stop! Why are you doing this, dude? You like this girl or what?” 

At Taehyung’s accusation, Jungkook was silent. “I don’t know. But I can’t stop, Tae. Or I’ll go crazy.”

Taehyung sighs, giving up and instead going back to his work. As long as the tasks are divided, he would not be bothered by his friend’s crazy fixation towards a so-called-friend. Seriously, why do people even want to monogamously date? It’s such a hassle, and unimportant. Girlfriends are liabilities, and Jungkook of all people should know it!

After being rejected for another three calls, Jungkook finally gives up, slamming the phone on the desk. “I give up. She’ll never answer. Fuck it, I need to work.”

Taehyung glances at that guy trying to focus on the task in front of him. Everyone can see how out of place he is—if there’s a guarantee Jungkook will not land a punch to his precious face, he really wants to tease him right now it is hilarious. Damn, his friend is whipped.

Amongst the silence, Jungkook’s phone suddenly rings. Throwing the thousand page book in his grasps right away, he answers it like a madman—probably without even checking the caller. It must not be the girl of his dreams, since his hopeful puppy face instantly sombers.

“Of course not! How can I, we just got into a fight.”

After listening to the faint caller’s word, his knuckles intimidatingly whiten due, jaw tightening. “Seriously? They are leaving now?”

A few banter and the call ends, but Taehyung can see how bothered the guy is after the call. He is no longer bothered to even pretend he is working, instead his eyes hollow, zooming out to nothingness. But another five minutes, a slight tingling from the entrance bell is heard and Jungkook feels like his heart is about to fall out he instinctively ducks his head. Taehyung tries to steal a look to the source of attention, and it’s you, the girl he has seen a lot previously with Jungkook and Seokjin… Together while holding hands.

Oh, oh. This is bad.

Jungkook really should just storm out. He is never the masochist type, but somehow curiosity gets the best of him so he stays, his work is completely ignored. He focuses on glaring to the other side of the restaurant where you and Seokjin sit near the window, nonchalant to his presence while lively and affectionately talking to each other. And for fuck sake, can fucking Seokjin get his hands off you? It takes everything in his power to ignore the need to slap those dirty paws away.

“Jungkook, we should go..” Taehyung silently pleads, noticing how tense his friend has become since you and Seokjin arrived. But Jungkook is unable to hear or sense anything, was too focused on probing both of you while trying not to be caught.

It is a rather short meal, as you and Seokjin only ordered a dessert to share and Jungkook is irritated. You finished a bowl of ice cream in one sitting and you can’t seriously get a dessert for your own? Disgusting—After approximately thirty minutes, you and Seokjin head out, hand by hand with a sickeningly shy smile on both of your faces.

Jungkook thinks that is the end of it, thank God he can finally breathe. But how wrong he was to even think he will remain unscathed, because as both of you stand in front of the restaurant, Seokjin bravely pulls you closer by the nape and crashes his lips on yours. It feels like a punch to Jungkook’s gut, seeing how blissful both of you are engaged in a sweet kiss, your hands on his cheek and his hands clasped on your waist. There’s the anger, the jealousy raging inside Jungkook’s chest at the moment that it’s even difficult to breathe. 

As now both of you and Seokjin have left the scene, Taehyung forces himself from the tense situation to steal a glance at Jungkook. Just seeing him—staring at the ceiling with no expression whatsoever—radiates the devastation and frustration he is currently experiencing. God, Taehyung hopes he will never have to experience that kind of emotion in his life.

*

During ten years of friendship with Jungkook, you never knew what it feels to have him avoid you. But now that you are exactly being treated like a plague by him, you wish you were warned beforehand because it fucking hurts. And you have no idea how or why, and you have no one to console your loss — not even Seokjin, or Lia. Well it mostly because you don’t want them to realize how fucking dependent you are to Jungkook, it’s pathetic.

“Kitten, you are spazzing out. Are you sure you are okay?”

Seokjin’s words are nearly lost on you, and the moment his hand is on yours, you unconsciously flinch. He is now examining you, with a gaze full of worry. 

“If you are feeling not okay, we can just go home.” Seokjin kindly offers, but you shake your head fervently, not wanting to wallow again in your sadness. You can’t take this away from Seokjin, when it’s his dearest fellow frat brothers—especially the seniors who are having the party. Seokjin as the angel he is will not let you be alone in your apartment.

Since the day you meet Jungkook for brunch, a week has passed and it seems like you and him are in the middle of a cold war. It’s not like you are not speaking to each other, but every word coming from him speaks distance and you are tired and just stop trying—yet it doesn’t lessen the pain. And now you are going with Seokjin for his frat party, and you know Jungkook will be there—it might be the reason you are simultaneously eager and despise going to the party. You are terribly anxious about facing him, but you can’t back down when you know you did nothing wrong.

In front of the frat house, Seokjin holds your hand and brushes his lips to your temple as an encouragement. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

You throw your gaze at Seokjin’s side profile. Seriously, what did you do to deserve him? He is seriously the kindest soul out there, always looking for your best interest. He never hesitates to go big for you, yet you can help but to feel guilty. He is too kind. Too perfect. And you can’t shake this feeling of undeserving and owning him everything to him.

The moment your feet step into the party, your eyes instantly fall to someone so familiar yet so strange—Jungkook. He is leaning on a sofa, talking animatedly with two girls on either side, leeching to him like they are willing to take turns to suck him dry. You roll your eyes in disgust. What were you expecting? That Jungkook might go celibate and seriously get a grip on his life? You must be drunk. That bastard can’t even face the fact that he likes someone and actually does something about it.

Yes. He likes Lia. But being a total fuckboy is not what someone should do when he seriously likes someone, right? You just want the best for him, not wanting Jungkook to waste another time when he can have someone he truly likes instead of engaging in another one night stand.

While Seokjin is chatting with his group of friends, you excuse yourself to grab a drink. He, as the gentleman he is, offers to accompany you, but you refuse—mentioning it will only take a short while. And after finally settling in the kitchen where you can finally have a space for your own, you heave few deep breaths. You do not know exactly why, but being surrounded among strangers always sends you to a nervous bundle. 

That’s exactly the reason why you always avoid going to parties. You wanted to tell Seokjin about the anxiety you feel, but you feel like it’s too much of a burden to throw on him so you just swallow everything and hope for the best—but now you regret everything. At least previously, you have Lia and you are assured she is going to take care of you. Not that you don’t think Seokjin will not, but the trust issue you have for nearly everyone is not going to go away when you literally only know him for one freaking month.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Suddenly, a familiar voice is heard and you look behind, seeing Jungkook with a worried gaze, his palm soothing your back. “You don’t really look good. Does the party bother you?”

You bask in his appearance, and sense the anxiety building up inside your head crashes into a loud sob. Seeing such a familiar face, worried about your well-being somehow instantly relieves you, and the emotion is excessive and you inevitably feel the urge to cry. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Jungkook whispers, pulling you inside his arms and enveloping you with the ever-so-familiar warmth. His fingers forming circles in your back, just the way he used to calm you on every rainy day, while you clutch into his jacket for dear life. 

“Why do you even come here, you idiot? You should have let me know.”

His ignorant statement somehow flares the anger inside you, and you irritatedly push him away with both your palms. Jungkook is a jerk, and you do not deserve any of this. “How can I let you know, Jungkook? When it’s crystal clear you are avoiding me. I haven’t heard anything other than your one two word messages. I can’t even call you!” 

The guilt is definitely painted on his face, confirming a guess that has been going around your head. He truly was avoiding you. “I—I don’t mean it like that…”

“What wrong did I do, Jungkook? How can you do this to me?” You whimper sadly. All the frustration inside you is coming out. “I know I was wrong, but this is not how we resolve things, Jungkook. You know it. And you can’t even tell me what’s wrong directly to my face, or even try to reconcile our friendship, instead you go back to partying, eye fucking two girls at the same time when I’m standing right here. Do you even know how it makes me feel?”

“It’s not that!” Jungkook defends himself, feeling the obnoxious guilt seeping inside his heart. He feels at fault now seeing how heartbroken you look, and the fact that he is the one causing them. It’s like he is finally awoken, that he has been selfishly trying to redeem himself from a one-sided love for his childhood best friend without thinking about how you feel. But in his defense, he thought you would be okay! 

“I...I just thought now that you have Seokjin, you won’t be needing me no more. He seems to be such a better companion than I am. And I know you like him so much, Y/N, I feel like...”

“Hey. Are you okay?” 

All of a sudden, Seokjin appears in the kitchen, staring at both you and Jungkook standing in front of each other with somber looks on each of your faces. He definitely was about to say something, but like he sobers up and puts up a thin smile and reaches out to you. “You take a long time to get a drink, so I thought I should check up on you.”

You quickly grab the nearest bottle of beer, giving a short, civilized smile to Jungkook to handle the pain throbbing inside his chest. You desperately need space away from him, swearing that you would do anything to avoid breakdown in the middle of a frat party filled with tons of strangers. “Excuse me.”

“Hey, Seokjin! Get your girl, we are going to play!”

That trademark voice was definitely Hoseok’s, gesturing you to join the circle of group with countless shots in the center—which is literally a recipe for a disastrous night. Seokjin is about to wave him off, intending to focus on your well being instead, but that is seriously the last thing you want to do right now. All you need is alcohol—lots of them and avoid whatever internal conflict you are having since that’s what you do best. Hence, you pull the older guy closer to the group cheering them on, forcing him to sit down beside you. 

“Hey, we don’t have to do this if you are not comfortable.” Seokjin consoles, his hands smoothing on your thigh. 

“But I want to!” You fake a cheer, pretending to sound enthusiastic. “I haven’t done this in a long time. I wanna do this again.”

Jimin—one of the other frat brothers, is counting the people and after clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “We need one more. Hey, Jungkook, come here!”

You quickly snap your head towards your so-called best friend, who just came out from the kitchen from your previous unpleasant encounter. Just a glance and you can see how messed up he looks right now. Jungkook seriously was about to flip Jimin off, instead wallowing himself in sadness and regret. But seeing you sitting in the circle, he gets no other choice but to accept the offer. All that he can think about is the annoying frat buddies of his who might force you to do the things you despise, along with your occasional social anxiety that might ruin everything for you. He will never forget himself if they happen without him there, when he had the opportunity to. He’ll do it, regardless of your current distaste for him.

“Okay! So we are going to play Never Have I Ever!” Jimin shouts, and your stomach dips in nerves. God, are you seriously going to do it? But then you feel a certain concerned stare is directed towards you, and your pride forces you to act nonchalant. You are not going to let Jungkook think he needs to babysit you again. The previous thing in the kitchen is humiliating enough, you don’t need another second. 

“It’s the usual. if you have done it before, drink a shot! Don’t worry, we have abundant alcohol supply and our dearest freshmen right here, kindly volunteer to refill the glasses.” You emphatically look amongst the fellow freshmen, standing outside the circle with bottles of alcohol in their hands. God, this reminds you why frat people are seriously the worst.

“I’ll start! Okay. Never have I ever sexted someone during class.”

A series of groans are heard in the circle, few people—some that you know are Taehyung, Hoseok, and even the smartest of the frat boys, Namjoon bottoms up their respective drinks. Seriously? They pay tuition to sext during class. What a disgrace.

And of course Jungkook’s glass is empty too. What did you expect?

Next is Hoseok. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm before!”

Well, that one is on you, but you are just glad to be able to finally drink. And damn is it good to finally have alcohol buzzing inside your system—it’s been way too long. After drinking his own, Seokjin offers to exchange your empty glass into a full one. You send a thankful smile his way.

“Never have I ever sent a nude to someone.”

Well, that's correct on your previous relationship with a dickhead in your high school. Wow, you feel the slight kick, but since your tolerance is quite high, your tongue still craves for more.

“Never have I had a threesome before.”

Your eyes curiously find Jungkook, as he bottoms up his third glass of the game, with only a few of the people there drink—Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and one of the unknown girls. Not that you did not expect it, but you find yourself mildly uncomfortable and somehow disappointed with the facts. He is Jungkook. You should have known it.

“Never have I ever roleplay mommy / daddy kink during sex.”

You detect Seokjin shyly drinking his glass, and you fake a gasp. The alcohol on your spine and the great atmosphere are a success in bringing up your mood. “Wow, I knew it! It’s all so clear, you must have daddy kink!” You let out a belly laugh as he softly pinches your waist, still abashed to the new found fact. What you miss is Jungkook shooting daggers both your ways and Taehyung on his side giving him a few comforting taps on the back.

“Never have I ever liked someone else when I was in a relationship!”

The question somehow kills every fun you have, as you silently recall your previous relationships. There was definitely something on your mind, but you quickly pushed them back. No. It did not make sense and still does, and it was something you chose to bury a long time ago. Pretending it never exists is way easier.

But when you straighten your back to regain your sense, your eyes instantly find Jungkook sipping on his alcohol whilst glaring at you, before throwing his back and bottoming it up. Not only that, even after he slams the glass back on the table he is still giving you the same intent stare. What does he want from you? If he is trying to mess with your mind it is not working—so you faked nonchalance, waiting for the next question, yet your mind is busy thinking about who might be on the receiving end of Jungkook’s feelings while he was in a relationship with his bitch of an ex.

The game goes on for another round, and boy was it a mess. As time goes by, the questions are getting out of hand, until a point you seriously think you need to see your therapist due to how traumatic the questions are. During the game you only drink five glasses, which is still not enough for you—and Seokjin, who apparently has a great alcohol resistance as well. The game ended when Hoseok and Taehyung were hugging each other with two bottles of vodka between them, noisily faking smooches sound to each other.

When Seokjin offers to walk away from the rainsacked table, one of the friends whom you recognize as Yoongi holds him back with a tactful smile. “Hey, Seokjin! I’m bored, Let’s play!”

“Yoongi, I think that’s enough play. I think me and Y/N are just going to talk.” Seokjin calmly refuses, when Jungkook comes to Yoongi's side, resting his arm on the smaller man with his face bright red, looking totally buzzed.

“Ugh, that’s so boring! Why don’t we just play a game!”

You snort when you can smell his breath reeking with booze. No wonders though, he only missed two shots during that godforsaken game. “Jungkook—”

“No! I want to play!” He childishly pouts again. Here goes Jungkook acting like a nine year old whenever he is drunk. You roll your eyes agitatedly. Can he grow up already? “I want to beat you and this boyfriend of yours. Let’s play beer pong!”

“That’s a great idea, Jungkook! I think for the prize the winner can ask the loser for anything.” Yoongi shows his gummy smiles forming a smirk. Seokjin was about to discard the offer when his friend cleverly ignited another fire. “What, you don’t think you can win? Or do you just don’t get the nerves to? Too scared to be beaten down in front of your girlfriend?”

Somehow the conversation is loud enough that it attracts people, and now everyone is wooing the provocative statement from Yoongi. He has been silent throughout the previous game, and you don’t even know why he is so keen about playing beer pong with you and Seokjin. Can’t he just ask someone else instead? But you are assured, since one thing you learned from athletes like Seokjin, he is not easily provoked by such cheap statements. 

“You are on.” He grimaces as you gape, not expecting the sudden plottwist. How can he just approve? Damn him, you seriously do not want anything to do with these frat boys! “But I swear to god if you lose, I am going to force you to kiss this manchild for fucking five minutes in front of everybody.”

“Well that’s not really a punishment if I will enjoy it, but go on.” Jungkook drunkenly shouts, Yoongi palpably shudders beside him. The crowd laughter goes wild, as other freshmen—you seriously really feel bad for them now—sets up the red solo cups on the table. Your head spins in confusion, as you literally have not once played beer pong before. It’s a lost cause, and you are going to be punished by those evil spawns!

“Seokjin, I seriously can’t play for shit!” You hisses in worry while Seokjin smiles as an assurance.

“No worry, Y/N. I am a reigning champion of beer pong is this godforsaken frat. We will surely win.” He holds you by the shoulder. You send a judging gaze to Jungkook as he pretends to look nonchalant, confidently rubbing his palm together. Damn, you really want to smack him in that idiotic drunk ass face of his. What a jerk! You just hope Jin is truly as good as he claims, because if not, you are completely, utterly fucked. And not even a good one.

The first thing you did wrong was to believe Seokjin is just as good as his words, because Yoongi—who you just knew is the captain of the basketball team—completely triumphs him through every shot. And you already in peace with the fact that your aiming skill is the worst thing that could happen to you, so there goes scoring zero. That bastard Jungkook, somehow amidst the drunkenness is able to score a lot as well—probably due to the fact that he also plays football. Now that you think about it, the game itself does not make sense. And not only that you lose, the glasses you shove down your throat are quite a lot, to the point you can finally feel the buzz of alcohol in your spine. Just fucking perfect!

“Yes! We win!” Jungkook gleefully shouts, seeing the last red cup in front of your table has the shiny yellow ball in it. Seokjin sighs in defeat, quickly taking the last glass and drinking it, completely forfeited. You groan, rubbing your aching temple. This is gonna be rough.

“Wow! Do we finally have the winner here?!” Yoongi shouts with mirth, as the crowd woo. “Well, I don’t want to hold you back, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I am just giving you a taste of your medicine. You can now make out with the bride.” Everyone snickers, and you are too shy to even look at Seokjin. “But we don’t want porn here, so just three minutes?”

“Are you okay with this? I can make him stop.” Seokjin asks calmly, as Yoongi snickers about his friend’s cringey thoughtfulness. Well now that everyone’s looking at you, you ain’t really got any choice, right? So you hesitantly nod as a permission, before Seokjin encloses his lips on you, and all you can sense is the deafening shouts of the crowd.

And Jungkook’s deflated back while exiting the room.

*

Two hours after the last disastrous beer pong and a three-minutes exhibitionist makeout session with Seokjin, you are shocked to still find yourself sitting at the frat party. Seokjin has asked you multiple times if you want to head home, but you refuse, feeding him lies about somehow still enjoying the party. Truthfully, you don’t even know what he is holding you back. You stopped drinking after the game, instead drinking lots of water to avoid a bad hangover in the morning. The party is dull, especially when you are no longer drinking and alone—Seokjin is asked by a few fellow final year friends to join them for a drink outside, so you assure him you’ll be okay staying back. All you do now is keep an eye on your so-called best friend, shoving alcohol down his throat like there’s no tomorrow. There were few girls around him, but the way Jungkook was not having it and instead focusing on the drinks—his nonchalance probably bore them so they fled, locking on other frat boys as targets. It is only Taehyung now with him, who looks just as drunk as he is. Literal dumbasses.

Amongst the loud bass thumping inside the room, your phone vibrates. You quickly excuse yourself from a couple who is now making out beside you—god, you seriously thought the girl was interested in talking to you before, but now she just ignores you while shoving her tongue down the boy’s throat!—and walks out to pick up the call. Against your expectation, it is Jungkook’s brother, Junghyun on the other side of the call..

“Y/N! Y/N, I am so glad you pick up!” Junghyun shouts loudly, sounds greatly relieved after listening to your greetings. You chuckle, realize it has been quite a long time since you heard from him. You desperately need to visit him sometimes, instead of constantly hanging out with his idiot younger brother.

“Hey, do you know where Jungkook is? We actually have to fly to Busan tomorrow morning, so we expect him to be home now. He even brought the car with him!” Junghyun shouts filled with stress, then you scrunch your eyebrow in confusion. He will fly tomorrow morning, so why did he even bother to come to the party? You scoff in disbelief.

“Yes, oppa. I am in the same party with him, but he is not looking real good.” You answer, looking inside the frat house. Well, not that his brother is unaware of Jungkook’s current trait of drinking and partying—not that he supports it—but you just think that he would be more responsible in his choices, and the your disappointment at him is vivid as a day. Making his family worried, all because he just wants to party which he nearly does every week? It’s shallow even for him. “But I’ll get him home now, no worries.”

Junghyung release a relieved sigh. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you!”

After a shot goodbye, you close the call and furiously march inside the frat house, right to Jungkook’s side. He is still drinking, but now looking severely drunk while unreasonably laughing with Taehyung, and now Jimin as an addition. Three drunk guys are never a good combination. “Jungkook, you fucking idiot, let’s go home!” 

With that Taehyung whistle loudly, tapping Jungkook on the back fervently, pepping him. “It’s Y/N! God, finally she is asking you to get something-something!” You scrunch your eyebrows at the drunk ass guy with a reddened face. You are earnestly curious for what booze he is having so you can avoid drinking it forever.

“You want to go home? Let’s go home, babygirl.” Jungkook lowly whispers whilst standing up, but before you can even react to such provocative words, he limps—probably dizzy from consuming too much alcohol. You circle his arms on your shoulder, helping him cause you are certain he is unable to walk on his own now.

Limping to the outside of the house at the best speed you can do, you find his car is parked a few meters from where you both stand. You grumble, swearing that you would keep a tab in every kindness you give to this unthankful moron. 

“Hmm, you smell nice.” Jungkook whispers, the tip of his nose settles on the crook of your neck, brushing it to your skin repetitiously as he hums in delight. All of a sudden you feel like it is hard to breath, your nape hair standing from such impulse. Damn, how can he take so much reaction out of you? It’s totally unfair! “I love your smell, babygirl. I wish I could smell you everyday.”

“Jungkook, I smell like booze, smoke and sweat. And what the fuck is wrong with you!” You hiss, trying to calm your irregular heartbeat. And you can always trust Jungkook to somehow flirt with you in the middle of his drunken antics. “I need to get you home, Jungkook. Don’t make me throw you on the street, okay?”

Listening to your cold answer, Jungkook pouts, his arms fold on his chest. The luring persona he had is now replaced to the childish one, and you can’t believe you have to deal with it now. “You are being a meanie to Jungkook! You have to apologize!”

Boy did he mean it, because he is now refusing to enter the car until you apologize. You sigh in distress — but some part of you do enjoy the cute banter with your drunk best friend. You are definitely going to tease him about this after he is sober.  “Okay! I apologize, Jungkook. I won’t throw you away, and I will get you home safely. Satisfied?” He nods with a foolish smile.

Then you realize that you don’t know where he places his car keys at, so you ignore the warning in your head and search his pockets, trying to disregard that he is wearing tight-ass pants that force you to feel him up somehow. God, you can’t even shake the embarrassment creeping to your cheek. Where the hell is that key?!

“Y/N, do you seriously want to do it here? I want out first time to be in bed, please.” Jungkook politely says, like he did not just imply about sleeping with you — instead asking for a candy. You whimper, greatly embarrassed even if you know it’s only a drunken act. He does not mean it in any way possible, so the flutters inside your heart should stop! You curse yourself, despising how his words are now affecting your wellbeing.

After finding the key in his left back pocket, you open the door to him and he kindly obeys, but you take the chance and purposefully hit him in the head with the door. Serves him right! As Jungkook winces while bearing the physical pain, you gladly saunter to the driver's side, turning on the car and heading it to Jungkook’s address—which you already remember like your own, located not really far from university.

Few minutes pass in silence, so you think Jungkook already fell asleep, when a sudden question is heard and throws you away to shock.

“Do you like kissing Seokjin?”

“What the fuck—” You look at him, thinking he is joking but you find him staring back at you, eyes dead serious while his face is painted with no trace of mirth whatsoever. It sends you jitter and nerves all over your body. “Jungkook, I don’t understand why you are asking that.”

“I just want to know if he is a good kisser or not.”

“He doesn’t need to be a good kisser to make me like kissing him.”

You heard Jungkook’s breath hitched like it’s so hard to believe. “So you like kissing him?”

“That’s beside the point, Jungkook. I am just stating a fact cause your logic is flawed.”

You most definitely underestimated the level of distressfulness in his question when Jungkook literally growls, not liking the mind games you are playing on him. “I’m serious. Do. you. like. kissing. him. or not!”

“I don’t know why you are asking that, since it’s literally you who asks for the fucking beer pong game. Not to mention, it’s you who wants me to bone this guy, Jungkook.” You whisper, reminding him of the day he offers you to come to Hoseok’s birthday party. “That question is weird, I am not answering that.”

“I regret that day, everyday…” You hear him mutter silently while looking outside the window. You quickly warn yourself to avoid overthinking it. It’s unhealthy, and you’ve been here before! Better to turn off your feelings before everything gets messy on your side.

“Why do you even have to be bad at beer pong?! It’s just shooting fucking ball to a cup. How bad can you be to not even score a point?!” Jungkook childishly huffs, and you take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from landing a punch to his devilishly handsome drunk face. What you are going to do is ignore him, like an adult you truly are.

But the silence is too much and you just want to talk to him, hence opening up a new topic. “Jungkook, you know you have to leave for Busan tomorrow. You shouldn’t be partying the day before. Have you even packed?”

Jungkook looks at you and sighs, like he is mentally and physically drained—well, as he should from drinking that much. “How can I, when there’s a chance you are going to the party as well.”

You raise your eyebrow, unsure. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook scoffs in disbelief when grasping how clueless you actually are. “I don’t know what fucking Seokjin has asks you to believe, but I am still your best friend, Y/N.  Since we were kids. I know you like the back of my hand, I know how you hate parties, how you dislike being around strangers, and I know how dangerous it is to be with these frat boys.”

He pauses. “And frankly, I just can’t trust Seokjin. Even with ten years of friendship, I’m still finding new, wonderful things about you and you expect me to trust a fucker who only knows you for a month? Seriously. I only trust myself to be capable of taking care of you.”

The sincerity in his words and gaze, how determined he is with his words seriously blinded your sanity—this part of you trying to assure that what he says is strictly platonic. Your heart is beating so fast it is literally painful to even breath, all the butterflies in your stomach fly without a care in the world. Does he really mean it? Do you even want to know what he means by the words?

The rest of the way passes in tense silence, both of you busy in each of your thoughts, and the car already approaches the street of his house. You sigh, putting on the break when you finally arrive in front of his house lane. “This is it, Jungkook. Go home, get some sleep. Don’t forget to eat some aspirin, and please wake up in time for your flight.”

Jungkook somberly nods, clicking his seatbelt off. You were about to say something, anything about addressing the elephant inside the car—to confirm whether he meant his words, whether he is indeed jealous of the punishment kiss with Seokjin. But then he beats you to it.

“Can I ask you one thing? And please promise me you will answer this.” He stares at you, and you hesitatingly hum as an answer, the tension is hard to miss.

“Answer me truthfully. Do you like kissing him? Seokjin, I mean.”

You sigh, not believing how still hung up Jungkook is on the matter. “Jungkook—”

“I know you like this guy so much, Y/N. I don't even want to ask that. I just want to know if you like the kiss. I wish this guy sucks in kissing, at least let me live with that.”

You look up to him, cheeks turning vermillion as he braves himself to look into your eyes. Your heart swells in pride, thinking how important it is to confirm that to you. God, has he really been this cute before?

“It was okay.” 

Listening to your answer, Jungkook smiles widens from ear to ear, like he is completely over the moon with okay as an answer. “Just okay? Not mind blowing whatsoever?” 

“It was okay.” You repeat, not confirming nor denying his latter question, but Jungkook still looks pleased with just the same answer. The manchild then hums, throwing both his arms around you, enveloping you into a hug so close like he never wants to let go. After a good minute he finally lets go, still with a million-dollar smile on his face and... rests his forehead on yours, closing his eyes as he breathes your scent in. This time, you are definitely sure you are going to schedule a slot with a cardiologist because there must be something wrong with your heart for beating that fast. There must be. And then his eyes flutter open, showing a strained gaze filled with anonymous emotion. 

“Are you going to be mad if I were to kiss you now?”

At Jungkook’s hushed questions, the temptation to taste his lips and comply with his request has you blinded, so you let go of your sanity and approve with a shy nod. The realistic side of you is quickly shut down as you don’t want to argue with it now. All you are thinking and craving about is to kiss him, or else you are going to die.

As his lips advances, the kiss finally happens. You can vividly feel the fireworks light up inside your chest—a strange yet wonderful feeling, the first time you ever feel this away while kissing someone. Jungkook’s lips are soft, touching you slowly like he is testing the waters. After he feels your careful reply, he sends more pressure, slowly but sure savoring your lips like he is taking his dearest time with you. Boy did he taste amazing—like a good whiskey, even if it’s probably all on him. The kiss feels amazing, yet you find yourself getting impatient with how it progresses, since all you can think is to feel him close. God, you must have lost your mind.

“Patience, pumpkin.” He teases, and you can feel a sleazy smile formed on his lips. You snort in annoyance, but he unexpectedly uses it to his advantage, stealthily shoving down his tongue inside your mouth cave. You gasp when the taste of alcohol kicks in, but is content nevertheless. You can’t even describe how good it is to have him close, your fingers entangled in his beautiful oak brown silk hair, his hands tightly encircled on your waist. How did you even think about spending a lifetime without kissing him?

“God, can I have you now? But I hate doing it in the car—I want our first time to be special.” 

Somehow, his desperate words instantly sobers your lust-clouded head, viciously taking you back to reality. So he really thinks of you that easily. And like you are saved by the bell, his brother appears from inside the house, probably realizing that the car has arrived but yet to show his brother—for a bit way too long. You curtly shove him away, heading outside the car before slamming the door vigorously. Of course. Of fucking course that is going to happen! What do you expect? He kisses you once and is finally ready to take your hand in marriage? You should’ve known better than to fall for the same tricks he played on those dumb girls. He even does it while drunk, for god sake. You should’ve known better!

With heavy self-disappointment you quickly open your phone, opening an app to order your ride home. All you want to do is now wail in sadness, and promise yourself to never let that happen again. You are too focused on your plan to flee, so when you feel Jungkook’s touch against your skin, you instinctively flinch. You can see how pained he is to see your reaction closing him off, yet you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to say even a word to him. The more you think about what just happened, the stronger the ache you feel, so you decided to just stop trying. You desperately need some time alone.

“Y/N! You are here. Thank you so much from bringing Jungkook home. This kid never learns, I swear.” Junghyun smiles, nonchalant to the tense air between you and Jungkook. You put up a fake smile of reassurance to the older guy, shrugging his worry.

“Are you going home? I can drive you, just let me take this guy in first.” Junghyun kindly offers, but you quickly recide. How can you do that when just in a few hours they are going to fly to Busan? They are seriously too kind.

“I ordered my taxi, it will arrive soon, oppa. No worries!” You brightly smile, not minding the obvious stares of Jungkook on your skin. You thank your lucky stars after the white taxi of your choice gladfully is near enough, and the blinding light of the taxi car lamp finally allows you to breathe. “It’s here!”

“Hyung, please take the details of the taxi, will you?” 

While entering the taxi you hear Jungkook’s subtle request to his brother, yet you pretend to be clueless, since it is better this way. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You don’t want to mess with the things you have now. You are so conflicted you don’t even know what to do with yourself.

“Text me when you get home.” Jungkook rigidly murmurs and you nod with the same manner. The taxi finally moves, and after a few seconds of total silence, you find the tears you have been holding for a while finally free, raining down on your cheeks.

*

Finally ending the fateful night, you arrive in your apartment and cry yourself to sleep. You feel betrayed, you feel dirty, you feel played and used. You do not know what has gotten into you to seriously think you are special to Jungkook, but that’s definitely not the case since he just caught up in the moment and just needed you to wet his dick. After that, you are going to ruin a ten year old friendship just because you can’t keep your feelings in hand like he can’t keep his dick inside his pants. You should’ve seen it coming—but now the damage is done, there is no use of regretting the things you can’t change. Yet ever since that day you can’t even sleep, eat, study, or basically do anything without thinking about him.

Especially since in the morning he left for Busan, he informed you through a message that he will be there for a week, and after that he needs to talk to you. You haven’t even replied, leaving him only on read even if that’s basically what you are thinking about night and day. What is he going to say? Is he going to reject you? Is he going to say how disgusted he is for that night? Is he going to tell you should not be friends anymore? There are countless scenarios playing in your head, and not even one is as what you wish it would be. Just an endless count of rejection and humiliation.

So the night before he is coming back, you are seated coated in your blanket in your apartment, right in front of your TV even though you don’t even know what show is playing. You are just zoning out, racking your brains for reasons that you need to say to Jungkook to avoid meeting him tomorrow. Do you just pretend you are sick? Or can you bail on him? But thinking about Jungkook, waiting alone in a cafe makes you sad and guilty, so you immediately cancel that last option. God, what are you going to do?

Too invested in your thoughts, you do not notice Lia is just in front of you. You finally acknowledge her presence when after she is now waving a plastic of delicious smelling food in front of your face. “Hey, earth to Y/N!” She calls you again, the agitation builds up for the past week of being ignored by her own roommate.

“Honey, seeing you like this makes me sad.” She sighs, resting the plastic on the desk. “I brought offering food, and with this I hope you can finally tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, realizing how annoyed she must be seeing you like this. You have been closed off on her as well, keeping the event from a week ago only for yourself. It just doesn’t feel right talking about it with someone Jungkook admitted he likes… Which suddenly pops an idea inside your brilliant head. God! How can you not think of it before?!

You widely let out an ear-to-ear smile which frankly scares Lia due to the drastic change of mood. But you couldn't care less. You need to do this, to save the remaining pieces of your friendship with Jungkook and give him a helpful hand as well.

“Lia, honey, can you please help me with something?”

*

Jungkook arrives at Gimpo International Airport at 5.40pm, along with his parents and brother. After going back for the wedding of his relatives, every new day he can’t wait to finally be back in Seoul. He is worried as hell about you, since he is aware that he did make a mistake that night—he scares you with his overwhelming feelings, but he promises himself to make things right. He would be crazy to let you go that easily. Jungkook definitely felt something from you that night—there is a glimpse of hope that you somehow like him too, and now he is helplessly hanging on to that rope.

After telling you he needed to see you after he got back, you left him on read for a few days and he had to confess that he was so moody and off during those days, constantly pissing everyone around him. But how can he not? He thought he lost his chance. What if Seokjin took those days to convince you how much better of a man he is than him? What if you had enough of him and dump his ass? Or worse, what if you think you can no longer even be friends? Those thoughts constantly bothered him, but when you message time and place to meet him, he feels comforted. He trusted you—you are much better of a person than what his pessimistic mind forced him to believe.

So when his flight arrives, he directly goes to take the train instead of going with his family’s car, heading to the restaurant you informed. As you informed him about the dinner—7pm reservation, he carefully calculated his ETA. Jungkook is a bit confused due to your choice of place—you don’t really fancy Mexican food, but he pays no heed as what he can only focus is what he is about to say and the gift he thought thoroughly and carefully before, secured on his backpack. Jungkook silently smiles. He is going to make this right.

Exactly an hour arrival, he is now in the area of the restaurant. He quickly hitch a taxi, asking the driver to drive as fast as he can since his plan was to arrive first before you. The hope grows dimmer as seconds pass, especially when his taxi is caught in the middle of a traffic jam. Jungkook groans, there is no hesitation that he will be late. He quickly send you an apology by text, in which you do not even read—adding more anxiety to his already existing one.

After a few minutes which passes like a thousand years, he finally arrives in the said restaurant. He slaps a few bills at the driver, not even waiting for a change as he runs inside, nervously tapping his foot after mentioning your name as a reservation. His heart is beating fast, his palms turn clammy, and he feels jittery all over his body. God, the feeling has already been too long to even remember. But he can’t deny that it indeed feels nice. It feels amazing to care and have real emotions this deeply about someone.

Instead of finding the face he has been thinking of night and days, he finds a completely different woman, sitting nervously on the table. He is too overwhelmed to even speak.

“You—What are you doing here?!”

Jungkook can’t even believe his eyes. It’s Lia, your best friend, sitting on the table right now. All at once, his head spins followed by a sudden nausea bubbling up his throat from the great shock. He has been expecting you—to see your face again waiting for him with a smile, to tell you how much you mean to him, to finally confess and give him a gift he carefully picks out for you—but instead you set him up for dinner with your best friend, without letting either of them know. He feels rejected, a wave of sadness crashing at him that he can only weakly sit down, his legs nearly giving him up. He is now mourning on so-selfless yet so idiotic action you do him.

“God, Y/N asked me for dinner together, and he actually set me up with you? What the fuck?!” Lia flares angrily, taking her phone and fervently dialing up your number. Seeing how ugly it can get, Jungkook takes the phone away, closing the call. “What are you doing?!” She hisses.

“I.. I accidentally lied to her that I like you instead of her when she caught us meeting that morning.” Jungkook whispers, his throat too dry for catching up in the sadness. “And now she is setting us up together.”

“God, it all makes sense now! She actually asked me how I feel about you, and knowing you like her, I put good words. Could it be that she thinks I like you too?” She gasps, but Jungkook is already too numb in the feeling. “God, she is such a moron sometimes!”

“That’s okay. It’s just clear now. I know she does not have any feelings for me, and she might be too afraid to say so. She is probably already with Seokjin now.” Jungkook bitterly whispers, trying to uphold his voice yet it still wound him so fucking bad. Of course that is it. Seokjin is a whole perfect package for a man, not a child with zero emotional capacity like him. He must be drunk to even think about competing with that man.

“No, that's not it..” Lia shakes her head fervently at Jungkook’s helpless posture. “I believe she broke up whatever relationship she had with Seokjin. Don’t tell her you know this from me, but they kinda did it in our apartment hallways a few days ago and I accidentally—well not really accidental but that’s not the point—heard! I thought she was extremely quiet and sad because of that!”

He is confused, he really is, but now he knows the fact, there must be something he has not known yet. “Are you sure?” Jungkook rises up to his seat, strangely motivated. Not that he wants to take advantage of your odd break up with Seokjin for his personal advantage, he just wants to be there for you — like what best friends would do.

“Are you okay if I leave you now?” Jungkook kindly asks, and Lia shoo him away boredly, eyes already skimming on the menu.

“Don’t need no boys helping me eat, but you owe me a lot after this, bro. You get it?” With a nod of confirmation and a short smile, Jungkook quickly heads to the place he knew he would find you.

*

You don’t even know what you are doing, seated in the usual coffee shop you always visit with Jungkook. You have been sitting in the cafe for nearly two hours, munching on the countless foods you order from the menu, yet you can’t hold back the obnoxious, ugly feeling in your chest — especially when the barista is asking where Jungkook is when you ordered your usual. It’s literally on you—you were the one setting up both your best friends who greatly deserve and like each other together, so why is it so painful to face the possibility that they are having a nice date in her favorite Mexican restaurant right now?

Great. Now you are crying. God, you must look hideous, no make up, alone with plates of food in front of you. You can’t even imagine what people must be thinking about you right now, since even you are disgusted with yourself.

“I better go home.” You sigh, ready to pick the bill when a soft bell tingling is heard and you do not know whether you can believe your eyes or not, but it signals Jungkook’s entrance. He is wearing a dark blue sweater you bought him for his birthday a year ago, walking pensively to your table. Just looking at him immediately quickens your heartbeat, too loud you can distinctly hear it rings in your ear. What is happening? Why is he here, not more than an hour in the date? That look—Is he mad at you?

“Y/N, before I am going to be angry at you for setting me up with your best friend, I want to hit pause. Okay?” He calmly speaks, resting his bag on the floor. You look at him with teary eyes, still shocked for only his presence so you hesitantly nod. 

“Are you okay? After Seokjin, I mean. I heard about it.” Jungkook whispers, trying for a slow approach to the said matter. You don’t even know how he knows, yet you don’t really care.  “I’m sorry.”

You finally gather your courage to let out your voice, eyes still training on your lap. “Don’t be. It’s hard, but I’m okay. We just realize it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Do you want a hug?” Jungkook good-naturedly offers like it's the most usual thing to do inside a coffeeshop, and you can’t hold the chuckle which he follows. “We always hug it out whenever we are sad. I don’t know about you, but it always works for me. Your hugs are the best.”

You know he probably does not imply anything, so you nod, because you are desperately in need of your best friend’s hug right now. When everything is hard, it feels nice to have someone who completely understands and is willing to listen, instead of telling you what you need to do. That’s the kind of friendship you have with him, and you are thankful neither of you has given up on each other even with the constant fights.

After a good ten minutes just having each other close in a hug—his arms secured around your shoulder while you lean your head on his annoyingly sturdy chest—you let your best friend go. “God, we must be looking like two moron right now.” You whisper, noticing a few glances are thrown at your table and Jungkook snickers, agreeing with your comment. You snort. “More like because you look like a fucking idol and I look a hobo. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Hey, I just arrived from Busan and I directly come here without even changing.” He pouts and you chuckle, feeling the butterflies vividly knocking on your stomach. He helps you asking for the bill, and when it arrives, he directly gives the waiter his card and you angrily shove him away.

“Jungkook, if you pay for the food you don’t even touch, I swear to god—”

“But it's my turn to pay!” He protests and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not, because you did not even eat a thing.”

He quickly munch on the leftover fries, giving the waiter his card and pushing the confused man away before you can snatch the card back. You hiss, seriously feeling guilty for letting him pay for the whole thing. “God, I am starving! Can I eat this?” He asks, munching on your half eaten pasta without waiting for you. You just stare at him, happily eating your food and you can’t hold down the smile.

“Can I have this coffee too?” He politely asks, pointing at your black coffee and you sigh. 

“Jungkook, once again I tell you, you do not like black coffee. I’ll just order you anything.” You are about to call the waiter again when he holds you back.

“I like everything you like, Y/N. I think this goddamn coffee has grown on me.”

But he is completely bullshitting you—and probably himself because as his lips touch the glass to take a sip, he instinctively grimaces at the strong, bitter taste. Gosh, an idiot and somehow you still call him your best friend.

“Jungkook, do you want me to order you a banana milkshake?” You kindly offer like the coffee thing did just not happen, and he answers with a 1000 watt smile that leaves you strangely speechless.

“My hero.”

After exactly another hour talking about the cousin’s wedding he attended a few days ago, both of you and him exit the coffeeshop. You can’t hide your blush when the barista is secretly teasing you with his goddamn eyebrow, not that Jungkook can notice. God, you wish he doesn’t notice.

“Can we walk to your apartment? Are you okay? it’s a little bit cold.” Jungkook worriedly asks, and you nod as an agreement. He smiles serenely at you, his hand runs to fix your messy hair—courtesy of the wind. His fingers delicately put a strand of lost hair to the back of your ear, and smile with all his bunny teeth on display after being satisfied with the result. God, you wish he would not notice how nervous you are right now.

During the short walk filled with comfortable silence, he reaches your hand, tightly intertwining it with his fingers. All the things he does are not special—you nearly do it every time in your so-called platonic friendship, but everything definitely has changed. But the fuzzy feeling quickly turns into nerves when you sense the inevitable talk is coming, as he points to one of the benches in front of your apartment building.

“I am angry at you.”

You look up to him, expecting anger on his face when you found none, instead a thin smile. “You set me up with your best friend. What were you thinking, Y/N?”

“You said you liked her. And I know you need a push to finally do something about it, that’s why I did it.” You guiltily try to defend yourself. Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling remorse of what the conversation will turn into.

“But.. I don’t know whether we want to discuss this, but here goes—we kissed that night, Y/N. Does it even mean anything to you?” 

And now it is there. The hurt, the frustration, the anger shown on his beautiful doe eyes. You know it is coming — the inevitable confrontation about that night. But how can he even ask such question to you? Doesn’t he know it nearly keeps you awake every night?

“You were drunk, Jungkook. And horny... I was—we were just caught up in the moment.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “I don’t know about you, but I was not just caught up in the moment.” Jungkook curtly answers, taking a deep breath of courage. He hopes he doesn’t mess up everything and end up chasing you away yet again.

“Can’t you see it, Y/N? I like you. I like you so much for how it seems like a long time ago, but idiot me, somehow I just realize everything now.”

At his answer, your head feels like it is about to explode. But you are too scared, too realistic to even think about the possibility that he may truly mean every word. “You can’t lie to me like that, Jungkook! I am not the girl you can play with like your one night stands. I do not want to be just another number to you.”

“But you're not just another number to me!” He agitatedly hisses, letting his emotions open up on the table. “You think it doesn’t kill me? I think about it nearly everyday. I think about you and Seokjin. I think about you rejecting me. I think about you and our ten years friendship currently on the line. Do you think it has been just a walk in the park for me?”

He takes a deep breath. “I like you, Y/N. I like you so much it kills me for you to close me off that night we kissed. I thought everything was clear—my obvious feelings for you, but just now, you set me up with your best friend. How fucking great!”

The tears welling in your eyes are forcing to come out. “You don’t know how afraid I was, Jungkook. You can’t even imagine how it was for me! I like kissing you—I think I like it a little bit too much—but when you said you wanted to fuck in the car, I felt… I felt disgusted. You were drunk, and I felt like you were just using me for my body, like I’m just another dumb girls who you’ll fuck and never call back. I.. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

The statement you let out just brings a whole new guilt on his chest, and he moves to hold you close. “What were you thinking, Y/N. I would never do that to you…”

“How can I think of that? Are you shitting me right now? Jungkook, you slept with at least three girls a week, and you explicitly told me about fucking these girl nearly everyday before. So you expect me to comply and fuck you in that car, ruining our friendship because you only want to fuck me and wet your dick?!”

“Y/N, I swear it is not that. I like you too much, and I got so jealous of Seokjin—I am sorry that I make you feel that way. But I swear to god, at that time I just wanted to show you how much I like you, and I am sorry if it came out that way.”

You take a deep breath, but even doing it suffocates you. “I just need some time. That’s it. Can we… can we just pretend this never happens?” You sigh tiredly, and at your word, Jungkook feels hit with a ton of brick until he is completely numb. You want to disregard everything that happened?

“I am heading upstairs. You.. you can just head home now.” You whisper, and every word coming out hurts you back like it hurts him, but you need this. You need some time to think about everything. You don’t want to hurt yourself again—just seeing him now hurts so fucking bad already. Jungkook is not emotionally ready for you. He just caught up in the moment of drunkenness, and he doesn’t mean it. You should just stop thinking about it.

You are about to leave to cry your eyes to sleep, when you heard him call from behind.

“Here. I bought this for you. Don’t worry, Y/N.  I’ll leave.”

And you can hear the steps of his boots, walking far and far away until it disappears in the  silence. Now that he is not here, you find the wind is ten times colder, and the pain in your chest multiplies a thousand times. It’s only you now, alone with your thoughts. You brave yourself to turn back, seeing a box of chocolate resting on the bench, which then leaves you a crying mess.

It’s the exact chocolate he gave ten years ago to the girls, the one you ate when you saved him from the humiliation he faced. How could he even get this?

To : Y/N

Thank you for saving me again that day. And the day after. And the day after, until today. I owe you my life :)

With love, your vermillion faced favorite person in the world.

Jeon Jungkook.

*

Another week passes, and Jungkook wakes up with a groan inside of his room he shared with Taehyung. God was he trashed last night. His frat was having another party, and he may or may not steal a few bottles and decided to trash himself whilst playing Overwatch—he can’t even remember when or how. His back is killing him for falling asleep with bent back, his face plastered on the keyboard.

He tries to straighten up, but the dizziness from suddenly standing up washes him away that it takes some time to get used to. His lips are as dry as sahara, yet he found no bottle of water that may relieve the thirst—seriously, Jungkook? Stealing two bottles of vodka but forgot to bring up a bottle of water? God he is a moron sometimes.

He walks out of the room, descending to the downstairs with his head still banging painfully due to the bad hangover. He is about to head directly straight to the kitchen, but his steps are paused when he finds Seokjin currently having his breakfast on the table, with… you.

The first thought that comes to his mind is how different you look—you look pale and tired, the dark eyebags are getting prominent and it does look like you haven’t been sleeping well. The thoughts finally come closing when he realizes how awkward the air has become, you, Seokjin and himself on such close distance. Jungkook can’t bear the bitter thoughts of you, having your usual breakfast with Seokjin. God, he must be a bother—so he quickly enters the kitchen, intends to grab a drink and forces himself out of the picture.

“Jung—Jungkook, can we talk? Outside, I mean. I want to tell you something.”

He looks back, not expecting to find you standing up and walking to him to the kitchen. 

“We can. Do we need Seokjin to join as well?” He bitterly shoves the water inside his throat, not even minding how petty he must have sounded. 

“No. No need. I need to talk to you alone.” You beg, internally praying that Jungkook will not make it harder than it already is. All you want to do is say what you needed to say, then run away and bury yourself alive beside the nearest tree. 

Jungkook hums, and follows your hesitant step to the backyard of his frat house. But now that he is seeing you in such close distance, makes him realize that he terribly misses seeing you and talking to you. The week after the confession he let out, he decides to give you the space you deserve—no matter how desperate he is to just send you a message and ask how you’re doing. He can’t even deny that he went to your faculty a few times before, wanting to just see how you are doing even from afar. He knows how cringey and creepy that thought is, but he seriously can’t stand the idea of not having to see your face during those times. Checking up on you is like something he has been doing for ten years now, and he doesn’t intend to stop just because you need your own space.

Now you are standing with him, yet he thoughtfully motion so you can sit on the patio wall. The first touch he gave you since the last encounter, and it successfully turns you ten times nervous than you already are. Will you even be able to say what you need to say when he is right there, looking at you like that?

“Before you say anything, can I ask why are you having breakfast with Seokjin?” He starts, somehow unable to disregard the scene he just witnesses. He doesn’t know why, but he feels somehow sad and anxious that you are spending such an intimate breakfast with him. Sensing that Jungkook is indeed dead serious, and so are you, you decide not to beat around the bush and answer him with the truth.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to see you and he was there, having his breakfast. He was just being polite.” 

“Jungkook, I want to say I am sorry.” You whisper directly and cut to the chase, intending to look him in the eyes but still failing to do so. All because you are nothing but a nervous pile of mess. “I.. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t set you up with Lia just because of my insecurities. I thought I was doing you some good, but that was my fault to overstep it. And I shouldn’t have been angry at the thoughts that you were just playing with me—it’s only in my head and I accused you for it. It’s so unfair for you, I.. I want to apologize.”

Both of you fall into deep and tense silence, waiting for the other to speak up. But falling too uncomfortable with the silence, you decide to open your voice again. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Are you still angry at me?”

“Shouldn’t you apologize for one more thing?” Jungkook calmly asks, basking in your appearance once again like it’s never enough. God, are you even eating well? You hesitantly look up, confused with his words. What does he mean by that?

“The way you expect us to forget everything happened.” He winces soundly just by saying the word he refuses to acknowledge since the moment he heard it. Just thinking about the word you said a few nights back still brings fresh pain inside his chest. “That’s actually what hurts me the most. I don’t really care about the other.” You bit your lower lips. Is it just your hallucination or Jungkook seriously asking that?

Jungkook racks his brain, trying to articulate his thoughts yet failing to do so. Then he gives up, letting his heart do the talking instead. “I like you, Y/N. I don’t want to scare you—but I might even be in love with you. These past few years are so clear now. I like you, I always have feelings for you but it was so clouded with any friendly, somehow platonic feelings I thought I have and I don’t know—what happened with us just awakened me, making me realize  that I don’t want anyone else but me to be the one taking care of you.”

The newfound sincerity in his words astonishes you. Your breath hitches, with his words coming in and out of your mind, yet it still feels unsettled. Does he really mean it? 

“I guess I was just too busy with myself, with my own ways of hiding the pain I felt. But I realize, it was not any parties, or meaningless sex or any other things that makes me happy. I thought it was, but it’s not.” Jungkook takes your chin, pleading for you to look up to him. You are too overwhelmed by emotion, and you are thankful he asked you to sit because if you weren’t, your leg would give you away.

“It’s you. It’s always you.” He proclaims, as clear as the sky upon him. “It’s breakfast with you, talking with you everyday, seeing you be happy and be the one causing it. That’s what makes me happy.”

At such sentiment, the tears swimming in the corner of your eyes finally falls, streaming on the side of your cheek. He quickly pulls you close, his head entangles on your hair and your hands basked on his waist tightly, like you are holding it for dear life.  “Jungkook, I am scared. I don’t want to lose you... What if everything goes wrong and then I lost you forever?”

Jungkook kisses the top of your head. God, he is scared beyond words too. But he loves you too much, he believes in what you both have and is ready to take his chances. “We’ll make it through. I can’t promise you much, but I promise I’ll always look out for our best interests. You won’t lose me. I am your best friend before anything, Y/N.”

You nod, somehow assured by his words. You know it’s going to be hard to believe—even your past self would too, but you trust him with all your heart. Jungkook has been one constant thing in your life, and you trust him and are willing to put everything on the line because frankly, you love him, and he loves you. Maybe it’s time to finally be brave enough to face anything and take that risk. Only because it is him.

Another moment of holding each other close when Jungkook fucking opened his mouth and decided to ruin everything. “So.. Can I kiss you now?” He jokingly whispers and you snort, all sappy moments crumbling down to ashes. An amused chuckle somehow did escape your lips, and he pouts. “Hey, let me kiss you, you pretty girl. Seriously, I kissed you once, and god, that’s all I can think of this past week.”

You roll your eyes, heart beating rapidly fast in your chest. You are going to shrug his face away from you, but the moment you can clearly look up to him, you feel warm and giddy. His face is saying everything, shaded vermillion red while shyly looking down on you. A flashback comes inside your head, reminding you about the eleven year old kid with the same shade of vermillion on his face. He is still the same Jungkook you know—the Jungkook you love and wouldn’t trade for anything in the whole world.

His lips advance closer to yours yet you are the one to close the distance between. To have your lips finally touch against his chapped one, you can feel the same firework lights up, only ten times better now that you finally is truthful to your own feeling. God does it feel amazing to feel it to have him against your lips. Both of you are too content with even such innocent kisses, feeling the smile forming in each of your lips, inevitably bringing up a laughter.

“Fucking finally!”

At the loud roar, you quickly push Jungkook until he falls a few steps back, completely shocked beyond words to hear the shouts behind you—which belongs to Taehyung, somehow with Lia shutting him instantly on the mouth. There are few other frat brothers like Jimin and Namjoon as well, smiling meaningfully in front of the door. You shyly duck your head, god, how long have they been standing there? This is embarrassing!

“Are you going to hit them or should I?” You whisper, walking outside from the back door with Jungkook on your side, escaping the loud shouts and woo from the people standing there. Jungkook chuckles with mirth at your reddened abashed face. Is it a good time for him to say how adorable you are right now, with a burst of red coloring your cheek?

“No worries, I will.” He kisses your supple cheek. “But objectively speaking, I do think Lia has rights for that. She is the one helping me to get you since god-knows-when.” Jungkook smiles endearingly, holding you close around the shoulder when it’s finally just the two of you, brushing a kiss on the top of your head. You chuckle knowingly, and Jungkook stops to see you straight on the eye.

“Aren’t you going to ask me when, why or how? I mean about the chasing you thing with Lia.” He asks seriously, yet apparently can’t get his hands far from you as he reaches for your cheek, softly brushing it delicately with his fingers. You hum, somehow content with his touches. God, you sure like him so much it hurts.

“Baby—you’re cute. But actually it’s Lia who convinces me about you.” You chuckle, and Jungkook scrunch his eyebrows, yet still falling shy at the nickname that sounds entirely different now that you are the one saying it to him. “She told me everything. And that’s actually when I realize that I can trust you. With all my heart.”

Jungkook smiles, heart turning warm from your statement and still, the endearing nickname. “On the light note, you called me your baby. Ugh, can I kiss you again, pumpkin?” He cheekily asks, and your hearts light up at the familiar yet so strange nickname that now it feels different to have him as your lover.

You smirks, holding his palm against your cheek, taking in his disheveled, morning appearance once again. He looks extensively cute with his button nose and reddened cheeks, his disheveled morning hair still super inviting to have your fingers running through it. And it is unfair that somehow he looks his best now, better than anything you have seen him before. High chance it is because for you, the best thing for Jungkook to wear is his smile—especially when it’s because of you.

“Not if you have to ask again every time you don’t.”

He smirks and pulls you by the nape, muttering an answer against your smiling lips. He seriously wouldn’t mind doing this every second of the day.

“Deal.”

========

Finally! nearing 25k, wow this is a lot to write. But it was so much fun and i hope you like it! let me know and lets talk :) kindly check my masterlist !

UPDATE #1 : Drabble posted on masterlist! Do check lovelies! <3

UPDATE #2 : Find the Taehyung spinoff, “The Platinum Rules” click here!

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[venialsun]

to begin with, take warning (1/3)

[read on ao3]

1 | 2 | 3

Dick watched Damian physically try to not show his nerves on his face for a full ten minutes—with the success of a trained actor and the failure of a nervous fourteen-year-old playing it off to his older brother—when he caved. They had just driven past the Welcome to Gotham! billboard with “u sure?” and “go back to metropolis cuck!!!” graffitied in looping, hot pink script on the side. It’d be another twenty-five minutes of traffic before they made it to central downtown, and Dick could only stand so much of not-twitchy, not-nervous, I’m-above-this Damian before he burst into laughter and caused some problems.

So he said, “It’s okay to be nervous.”

And from the passenger side, feet up on the dash, looking at his phone, Damian snapped, “I’m not nervous! What is there to be nervous about? It’s an American high school. Big deal. Last week, I stopped a planet-wide catastrophe that would have killed billions in another galaxy, and every night, unless you don’t know, we fight actual monsters and supervillains who actively try to kill us. Some have even succeeded. This is nothing.”

“Yeah,” said Dick, “maybe don’t mention all that on the first day.”

“I know that.”

“And I think you mean ‘my friends and I went to space and stopped a war.’ You know you have to give them credit, too.”

“They’re not my friends,” said Damian. “I work with them. Father isn’t friends with every member of the Justice League, yet he’s worked with near every one of them on League missions. They are my colleagues.”

“So what you’re saying is that you are organizing and leading team missions?” Dick could not keep the amusement out of his voice. “What happened to ‘Teams are unnecessary and a waste of time’? What about the Titans? I know they invited you back.”

“Timothy leads the Titans,” said Damian. “And there’s no room for two Robins on the same team.”

“Mm, don’t know about that, but I also know neither of you would play nice long enough to really try. So no team, okay,” Dick agreed, “and you just happen to be having adventures with other underaged heroes of no relation to you on a periodic basis. And they’re not your friends.”

Damian blinked away from his phone—success!—and scowled. “I do not get your obsession with making friends, Richard,” he said.

Dick splayed his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m glad to see you hanging out with kids your own age, is all. It’s good for you.”

Damian snorted and looked out the window. Gotham’s littered streets and the growing mob of early-morning commuters blurred gray in the smog. In tones of great solemnity he said, “That’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it? I am going to school to learn how to maintain a secret identity and cultivate a normal public persona. I will be surrounded by kids my own age, and I will be sure to make connections that I will treasure for the rest of my life. These next four years will be the happiest of my life, I know it.”

Dick laughed, and Damian smirked.

“Alright, smartass, I get it. You’re Damian Wayne, haver of too many titles and not leader of any teams, and you’re not nervous about going to high school. I believe you.”

They stopped at a light. Gotham Academy was a few blocks ahead. If they walked, they could be there in ten minutes. Driving as they were in the morning congestion, it would take at least fifteen. Dick didn’t mind. He hummed to himself, waiting. Damian went back to his phone. The light turned green. Dick eased his foot off the brake. They advanced slowly and made it to the front of the line of cars, when the light blinked yellow, then red, and they stopped again.

Damian said, “Father says you were a good student. Well-liked. Studious. Only Robin’s duties caused problems.”

“Bruce said that?” Dick rolled his eyes. “Of course, he did. School was fine,” he said, “though I was mostly focused on being Robin and then the Titans at the time. It was nice, I think. It seems so long ago. But it was hard to have a life there when the most important parts of my life were somewhere else.”

“Wait, Grayson,” Damian said, gleefully, “were you unpopular?”

Dick chuckled, and the light turned green again. “I don’t know what you mean, Dames. I didn’t have that much trouble, and I had a good group of friends. But sometimes I thought it was all a waste of time, time I should’ve spent being Robin. It wasn’t easy hiding parts of myself from my classmates. Keeping the secret meant I couldn’t really be myself or talk to anyone about anything other than school.”

“Until the Titans,” said Damian.

“Until the Titans,” agreed Dick. He glanced at Damian, still with his marginally tense shoulders. “If it counts for anything,” he said, “I don’t think it was a waste of time now. I’m glad I went. I think this is a good thing.”

“Tt,” Damian tutted, but his look was speculative.

“I won’t lie to you and say you will love school. But give it a chance. You might end up liking it.”

“Ever the optimist.”

Dick pulled up into the line of cars for day student drop-off. Gotham Academy stretched across the block, its front tower looming darkly over them in the morning fog. Teenagers in uniform and cheery-looking adults were wandering about, huddling in groups or directing the flow of foot traffic to the entrance and around the side of the façade.

“Got your schedule? Know where you’re going?” Dick asked.

Damian glowered at him.

Dick chuckled. “Right, right, ‘course you do. So I’ll pick you up at four o’clock, okay?”

“And not a minute later,” threatened Damian. And then he set his shoulders, got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched away like he was going into battle.

Dick couldn’t help himself. As he pulled away, he rolled down the window and shouted, “Have a great day at school, Damian! Love ya!”

Without turning around, Damian flipped him the bird.

A whistle blew, and in the rear view Dick saw an upset-looking woman, probably an administrator, point at Damian and loudly scold, “Young man!”

Dick winced, sympathetic yet unrepentant, and merged back into traffic.

Whoops.

•

Yanez knew this would happen, but she had thought it would be at least until midday. Homeroom hadn’t even started. She was busy alternating between threatening her teachers to smile and look happy to be here and smiling half-encouragingly, half-threateningly at students and shepherding them away from their hormonal clusters, when Headmaster Hammer cut a line through the crowd and headed straight to her. A sour-faced Damian Wayne kept pace behind him.

“Good morning,” she greeted, raising an eyebrow, and silently prayed for patience. “Can I help you?”

“Principal Yanez,” said Hammer. He motioned Damian in front of him. “Your student is in need of a reminder of our disciplinary code of conduct.”

Yanez did not miss the emphasis on your. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hammer was still smarting over his demotion from Grand Headmaster of Gotham Academy, with the full powers that entailed, to “Grand Headmaster” of Gotham Academy, a purely honorary title that delegated tasks to the grammar, middle, and upper level administration that Gotham Academy had been divided into. She ignored him and looked down at the dark-haired boy in front of her. He glared back, defiant.

Ah. One of those.

“Damian Wayne, right?” she asked. “Isn’t it too early to be getting in trouble on the first day of school?”

“That depends on your definition of trouble, I suppose,” Damian said. To her surprise, he had the barest hint of an accent. British, maybe. He stuck out his hand. “You must be Samantha Yanez, the Head Principal for grades nine through twelve.”

Bemused, Yanez shook his hand. “That’s me.”

“I can only hope you are better than your predecessor,” said Damian. He glanced at Hammer and managed to make it seem like he was looking down his nose at him, despite being a full foot shorter. “He left much to be desired.”

“Note that down, Principal. Another perfect example of abhorrent and disrespectful student behavior,” said Hammer.

Yanez frowned. “What happened? Perhaps we should take this in my office.”

Already Yanez could see the curious bubble of students starting to form, talking behind their hands or blatantly recording on their phones.

“Certainly,” said Hammer. “It will help expedite the expulsion process.”

“That remains to be seen, Headmaster,” said Yanez.

She led them back to her office, past the crowds of mingling students and through the arching stone hallway that had been commandeered for the clerical staff. She took a seat behind her desk and indicated for them to sit. She tried not to be too annoyed when Hammer went instead to stand behind her, looming over like a gnarled skeleton.

“Okay,” she said. “Damian. Why don’t you explain to me why Headmaster Hammer has brought you in here? He’s threatening expulsion, but I only reserve that option for the most extreme of cases. Think this merits that?”

“Hardly,” scoffed Damian. “My brother was dropping me off and I flipped him off.”

“You—you flipped him off? You put your middle finger up at him?”

“Yes.”

Yanez barely resisted the urge to laugh and glanced at Hammer. His expression was thunderous. She looked back at Damian and waited, but he did not elaborate. “Why did you flip him off?” she asked.

“He is an embarrassment to me.”

“All brothers are embarrassing to their siblings, especially younger ones. Is there more?”

“No.”

“He has treated every administrator that tried to correct his behavior with rancor and disrespect,” said Hammer.

“Hrm.” Yanez steepled her fingers together. “Headmaster Hammer, could Damian and I have the room? I’ll take care of this. I’m sure you are very busy, and I know Principal Trammer could use the help with the elementary kids.”

Hammer scowled—Yanez knew he hated dealing with the primary school kids—but did not argue and took his leave.

When he was gone, Yanez took a moment to study the young boy in front of her. Petulant and angry, dark-haired, brown-skinned, and light-eyed, something tense and haughty in his shoulders—he looked every bit like any of the troubled kids Yanez had taught over her decades-long career. And yet nothing like them at all. There was something different in the set of his chin, the sharpness of his gaze, his crossed arms, like he was looking for danger and ready to meet it.

“Do you want to be here, Damian?” she asked.

Damian’s mouth twisted. “In this room, wasting my time? Not particularly.”

“Well, we can agree on that,” said Yanez. “But I meant here, Gotham Academy.”

Damian shrugged. “My family insists this will be an enriching opportunity.”

“They’re probably right. But I have looked at your records. You tested out of most of the core subjects, and your home-schooling portfolio is very impressive. Yet you are signed up for the standard ninth-grade honors track. When your Father and I met this summer to discuss the terms of your enrollment, he told me you insisted on it.”

Finally some of the animosity slipped from Damian’s face. He seemed intrigued. “You spoke with my father?”

“Only the once and very briefly,” said Yanez, “but yes. He said re-enrolling at Gotham Academy and coming back to school was your idea.”

Damian scowled.

“So I believe some part of you wants to be here, wants to be a student. Is that accurate?” she asked.

“I already regret it,” Damian muttered.

Yanez smiled. “Not the resounding yes I wanted to hear, but I’ll take it.” She reached into a side drawer and pulled out a quarter-sheet of yellow paper and scrawled down a few details. “If you want to be here, then being a student means abiding by some ground rules. Respect others, respect yourself, respect the school.”

“My respect is earned,” said Damian, “not freely given because of some archaic code of conduct.”

“Then you’re already miles ahead of most of the people in this building,” said Yanez. She handed him the slip of paper. “Respect is earned, yes, but you have to give people the chance to earn it in the first place. That means holding off on rude gestures and comments when it can be helped, which is most times. I am giving you two days of community lunch tutoring for flipping your brother off on school grounds and insulting the administrators.”

“Community lunch tutoring?” Damian echoed, scanning the slip.

“It is similar to detention, but instead you tutor other students and help them with their assignments. Report to the technology atrium during your lunchtime today and tomorrow.”

“Sounds dumb,” said Damian. “Why not just expel me?”

“For expressing your feelings and saying mean things to grown adults?” Yanez chuckled and shook her head. “Damian, this is a high school. If I expelled every bratty kid with no respect for authority and a penchant for dramatics, I would be out of a job. If you want to flip people off and bad-mouth teachers and administrators, that’s your business. It is not in my power to stop you, not fully anyway. You’re a smart kid. If you want to be a delinquent then at least be smart about it. If you get caught or the wrong adult overhears you, then you and I will be meeting more often, the repercussions will not be as merciful, and I will have to do a lot more paperwork. And Damian?”

She waited until she had his full attention, and he looked up, curious.

“I hate paperwork,” she said. “Don't let it come to that.” She waved a hand. “Now get out of my office. You’re late.”

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