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drowning-in-daiya · 11 months ago

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Twisted Ties: Chapter 1.5: Off to Japan!

Note: Anything spoken in italics once they've landed in Japan is Italian. Enjoy!

“So, mother has decided I need experience abroad?” The young heir asked from her table. Gia had caught her in the middle of writing an essay for her one of her tutors, though she couldn’t tell for what subject. She looked up from writing.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said.

“I’m not doubting mother’s decision, but I’m supposed to debut soon, and this is the last year before my inheritance trials. I’ve never been allowed to step foot off the grounds, but now I’m going to Japan? Forgive me for being difficult, I’m just confused on what brought this on,” Vittoria said.

You wouldn’t be able to tell, thought Gia. The girl had mastered Contessa’s lessons on hiding any and all emotion to a frightening degree. It was disconcerting to be gazed at with such a blank look, no ripple of her thoughts to be found in her light brown eyes. Regardless of these feelings, she inclined her head respectfully.

“Your mother feels she has taught you everything you need to know for leadership and that you have learned well in other aspects. Your magic and flame control are that of an adult, and your weapons skills and hand to hand combat are top notch. However, as you mentioned, you’ve not had much opportunity to see the outside world. She believes some real-world experience would take you to another level,” Gia lied smoothly.

“What kind of experience is she supposed to get, exactly?” Gia glanced briefly at the blonde girl sharing the table with Vittoria. She took in the closed books and empty sheets and her laidback appearance as she tipped back in the chair.

Seems she still hasn’t gained an appreciation for learning, she thought.

The question stumped her, though. She hadn’t considered further details as she’d assumed the two girls would jump at the chance for freedom and Vittoria’s deference to her mother would compel her not to ask questions. A spark of worry lit up in the back of her mind, but she ignored it for now. Just typical teenage behavior, nothing more, she reasoned.

“All sorts. The list is too long to name,” she said. The girls continued looking at her in expectation. Sighing, she threw out whatever popped in her mind.

“Well, socialization for one-”

“She’s a great socializer!” Carina cut in. Vittoria nodded along, looking doubtful of Gia now.

“You two only socialize with one another, how would you know?” She couldn’t help the exasperation lacing her words.

“I know because we socialize together and I think she’s great at it,” Carina said grinning. Years in the mafia pulled Gia’s face from the scowl itching to cross her face. She took a deep breath.

“There’s always room to grow. And you can’t base your socialization skills on one person, Carina. When she gets into the real world, she’ll come across those with different opinions and values to hers. There will be conflicts she must resolve, relationships she must nurture well. She has lived in a vacuum so far and has no real idea of what it takes to be around people, much less to lead them.” Gia stopped herself, surprised at the vehemence in her voice. She cleared her throat and continued.

“You see, there’s more to socializing than simply talking to one another. And being in another country will give you the opportunity to practice,” she said.

“But couldn’t I do that here?” Vittoria asked. Gia’s eyebrow twitched.

“You could. But your mother also thought it’d be nice of you to meet a branch family. And your sister is there, too,” she said. For the first time in a long time, she saw Vittoria’s face change. A blush warmed her light brown skin and a small smile appeared.

“Aurelia? She’s in Japan?” Surprise flitted through Gia. Maybe I should have led with this information first.

“Yes, she’s always been. You didn’t know?” She asked.

“No. Whenever I asked mother, she said I didn’t need to know. Whoever sent my letters to her wrote the address, and when I got letters back there was no return address,” Vittoria said. She hopped up and started pulling clothes out of her dresser and closet. Carina dropped the chair to the floor and wordlessly left the room.

“Carina?” Gia called out.

“She’s gone to pack,” Vittoria said.

“I see. It’s good you two have such a close relationship. That’s important in guardians. Ah, I don’t mean to presume she will be,” Gia said. She watched Vittoria for any other reactions, but her face had settled back into its neutral set.

“She will be,” she said simply. Gia waited to see if she’d add more. The silence stretched between the two. Gia shifted on her feet slightly.

“Excuse my impudence, princess, but this is what I mean by enhancing your sociability. A leader cannot leave silences between her and others unless it’s intended, perhaps for intimidation. I do not think you meant to intimidate me just then?”

Vittoria stopped folding a shirt and looked at Gia. Again with the impossible to read look, she thought.

“I didn’t,” she said.

“You didn’t, but?” Gia prodded.

“But what?”

A heavy sigh left Gia. How was this child so different from Vincenza who had studied under Contessa the same way? Perhaps Contessa made a mistake isolating her as much as she did, especially after what happened with Vincenza.

“You should explain and elaborate when you speak to others, not speak in simple conversation ending sentences. No one will know what’s going on inside your head if you speak the bare minimum,” she said.

“But mother says a leader shouldn’t reveal their inner workings,” Vittoria rebutted. It seems she took the things her mother told her very literally.

“That is true, to a degree. But just like everything in life there’s moderation to that rule. You can be more forthcoming with friends and family.”

“I am with Carina.”

“I am family too,” Gia said emphatically.

“Yes, but I didn’t have anything to add.” Gia started to say something, then closed her mouth.

“Okay, princess. I understand. While you’re in Japan I hope you keep in mind what I’ve said. I fear we have not prepared you enough for life outside the castle,” Gia said without thinking.

“Are you saying mother failed to educate me well?” Like when Aurelia was mentioned, emotion finally showed on her face as her lips twisted into a frown. Gia’s eyes widened.

“Of course not, princess! It is just a completely different world out there and it is impossible to prepare you for everything you might face. The few you have had around you all your life do not encapsulate what you will encounter out there. That is all I meant, nothing against the Donna,” she said.

Vittoria’s tensed shoulders relaxed as she accepted Gia’s answer.

“You’re worrying too much. I’m sure nothing too crazy could happen. People are rational and intelligent animals,” Vittoria said.

Gia could tell she’d get nowhere if she continued. She simply said “Yes, princess. I must finish up the preparations for your departure. I wish you safe travels.” With a slight nod, Gia left the room.

I hope you’re right, princess.

~~~~

“Excited?” Zelmira asked. Vittoria looked at her mother’s guardian who had a gleam in her dark green eyes. Her dark curls were piled atop her head, and she was dressed as if on vacation instead of her normal uniform.

“Yes, a bit. You seem to be very excited,” she replied.

“Who wouldn’t be if they got a free vacation? Come on! You can do better than that. You’re finally meeting your sister and you’re in another country. That’s a big step from never leaving the castle all in one day! Oh! The Palladinos have a young one your age and that adopted girl Contessa put onto them. You’ll get you some new friends right off the bat,” Zelmira rambled.

“I suppose so.” In truth, Vittoria was very excited and more than a little nervous. But she refused to show that in front of her mother’s guardian for fear she’d report her less than put together reaction. When the plane landed, her heart lodged itself in her throat. She’d expected that at takeoff with the new experience of flying, but instead the nerves decided now to attack.

“Can we get off yet?” Carina asked in the seat opposite hers. Her skin, normally a healthy copper, looked green and she was holding her stomach as she slumped in the seat. Zelmira laughed at the sight and clapped her shoulder. The movement jostled her, and she slapped a hand to her mouth covering the “oomph” that came out. If possible, she became greener.

“There, there. Just a little while more and the plane’ll be parked. I told you to take the nausea medicine,” she said. Carina mumbled what sounded like I didn’t think I’d need it.

Vittoria turned to the open window and looked out at the tarmac. So far it didn’t look any different from Italy. If not for the hours spent staring out at the lights and squares of life they passed over, she’d believe they were still in her home country. But they weren’t. She was in a completely different place. A place she’d have the freedom to explore at her pleasure. The place her sister was.

Her nerves exploded again, and she felt her own stomach twist and become sick. Worry pricked her insistently. What would Aurelia be like? Would she welcome her with open arms? Would there be animosity between them? She didn’t think so. Her letters were always warm and contained what seemed like every waking moment of her life. It had been a while since their last letter, but surely her feelings wouldn’t have changed so quick?

She jumped at the stewardess’s voice over the intercom announcing they could now depart.

“Will they be waiting for us here?” she asked Zelmira.

“I dunno. We told them you were coming, but it’s late and they’ll have school in the morning. Speaking of which, you two better be prepared. Japanese schools are no joke. Little princess should be fine, but Carina…” Zelmira trailed off with a grimace.

“I-I won’t embarrass you by failing, princess!” Carina declared loudly before doubling over. “Gimme a moment, I think I need to-” she ran to the bathroom slamming the door behind her. They stared after her, then turned to grab their carry on and headed for the exit.

“Mother’s education was thorough enough. I’ll be fine, so do not worry.”

“Of course, of course. Just giving a heads up. Carina of course will be in your class so don’t forget to give her some support, alright? Her Japanese isn’t the best too so she may have trouble. You should practice a lot with her,” she rambled on. A worried look creased her brows creating wrinkles between them.

Zelmira has always had a soft spot for Carina, Vittoria thought.

“Of course. A leader must support her guardians lest their faults lead to shortcomings of your own,” she said, repeating a line her mother said often. Zelmira glanced quickly at her from the corner of her eye, her lips quirked up.

“Yeah, sure. I was going more for friends don’t let friends fall behind but, eh whatever.”

As the two entered the lobby, Carina caught up looking refreshed. It was near empty with mostly just staff milling around waiting for the next flight to arrive. Disappointment welled up in Vittoria unbidden.

Don’t be silly. You will see them soon enough. As Zelmira said, it’s late. It was dumb to hope they’d be here to greet you, she told herself. She continued forward after the older guardian. They rounded a corner and were hit with a riot of color.

Large signs with her’s and Carina’s name painted on them in a mess of colors beckoned them to a small group of smiling faces. Vittoria vaguely heard Zelmira’s soft chuckle, but she’d zeroed in on one face and the world seemed to melt away.

Twins though they were, Aurelia could not look more different from Vittoria. Where her hair was straight and medium brown trailing down her back, Aurelia’s was a mass of curls, dark and springy. Their skin was different tones as well. Vittoria and Vincenza shared the lighter brown of Contessa, but the twin’s father was darker toned, and she had inherited his beautiful deep walnut brown. Similarly to him as well, her eyes were dark. But as they gazed at one another, Vittoria could see mirthful light and joy dancing in them.

As if pulled by some force, Vittoria took off running at the same time Aurelia did. They met in a clash of limbs and giggles. She didn’t care for decorum, what a leader should do in the throes of emotion, how unsightly it might seem to indulge in such blatant affection. All she knew was the welcoming warmth of her other half, and it felt like some part she hadn’t realized was missing had slipped perfectly back into place. She didn’t realize she was crying until hands were wiping her face clean. Aurelia tutted and furrowed her brows.

“Aww why’re you crying? My sweet baby sister,” she said and nuzzled her head against the other’s. Vittoria hiccupped a sob and pressed her face into her sister’s neck. Bright citrus and lime flooded her nose. The same scents I like to wear, the thought passed vaguely by. Second by second sounds filtered in through her own racing thoughts. She heard chatter around them as the others made their greetings. She stepped away and, keeping her head bowed, wiped the rest of the tears away. An embarrassed flush creeped down her neck, but she schooled her features into her normal cool and collected set.

She took in the others in the group quickly. Two older people, the Palladino heads she assumed, stood separate talking quietly to Zelmira. The man was tall and a little soft in the features with a round face and big eyes. His dark, loosely curled hair was neatly styled, and he wore casual clothes. It was obvious he was of mixed ancestry. Vittoria remembered her mother once describing the Palladino as a melting pot of ethnicities and countries, yet they preferred to remain on the little island their founder was raised on to anywhere else. His wife was short and had glowing, dark skin and a halo of tight curls that looked as soft as a cloud. She stood straight and alert, her bright pink eyes constantly roaming. Vittoria found herself mesmerized by their beauty, thinking of a sharp piece of pink garnet.

She forced herself to look away and found Carina toe to toe with a smaller girl accompanied by another, frazzled girl. The second of the two was obviously the Palladino’s child, Vivianna; a perfect blend of her father’s wavy hair, a darker complexion, her mother’s pink eyes softened by the roundness of her father’s, and a height similar to her own: not too tall but not short by any means.

The girl she had a hold of was no more than 5’0, but she exuded a confidence that made her seem bigger. Her mocking smile was not tempered at all by her wide hazel eyes, the cute skirt and shirt she sported, nor the twin buns some of her light brown hair was pulled into. The rest flowed to her mid back in a thick fall of loose curls and small braids. Despite the late time, a light layer of makeup was obvious, enhancing the best of her features.

“Uh-oh,” Aurelia whispered. Expecting a look of worry, Vittoria was surprised to see an amused grin on her face. Aurelia must have seen something in her face, though she was sure she’d kept it the same, because she leaned in close to whisper as if she didn’t want the girls to hear her. Not that it mattered since they were wrapped up in their apparent argument.

“Alessia has a rather unique knack for stepping on people’s toes. She’s got a smart mouth and an eagerness for a fight, verbal or physical,” she said.

“Alessia,” Vittoria tried the name out. “She’s the orphan mother saved from the corrupt orphanage, right? She should be better behaved for one relying on the charity of others,” she whispered back. Aurelia’s smile faltered. She raised a finger to lightly scratch at her cheek as she considered her words carefully.

“That…well, she’s still her own person you know. You can’t expect someone to act as you want just because you think they’re indebted to you,” she said.

“Mother says-”

“Mother probably says a lot of stuff. Doesn’t mean she’s always right,” Aurelia said with a frown. It quickly went away, and she smiled at Vittoria again.

“You came to learn right? Lesson number one: no one is infallible,” Vittoria tried to speak but Aurelia leaned in close and placed her finger against her lips, “not even mother. I’m sure she taught you a lot, but not everything is as clear cut and perfect as she wants it to be. Humans have free will. Alessia is Alessia. If she changed who she was simply because it’s what’s expected of her, then she’d no longer have her free will. What’s the first line of the Bellincioni creed?”

“The Bellincioni will always stand with the people and for the people, protecting their freedoms from those who’d seek to abuse them, even if from the Bellincioni themselves,” Vittoria recited immediately. Aurelia simply raised her brows in answer.

She understood where her sister was coming from. It was in line with the family’s oath, established in the past despite their noble status and the threat that could pose to their standing, to support not just members of the family but those under its protection in their freedoms. To tell Alessia or anyone in her position to act a certain way because they were helped was not just an infringement on her freedom of will and a slap to her face, but a breaking of the Bellincioni creed.

Shame welled in Vittoria as she realized the full extent of what it meant for her to expect Alessia to act in what she considered a “proper manner” as an orphan and what she’d unconsciously expected from Carina who had also been taken in. She’d never stopped and thought too hard about her mother’s words and what they truly meant in given situations. Maybe it’s just a fluke, though, she thought. Her mother was all she knew for most of her early life. To begin doubting her now, in a foreign land with only one person from her life in Italy by her side…no she couldn’t fathom it. She filed this away for future rumination, perhaps when she became more settled. For now, she needed to defuse the argument between her and Aurelia’s friend.

How did they even manage to start fighting within seconds of each other, she wondered

She walked over with Aurelia who maintained her smile and looked between the two. The height difference was comical; even barring Alessia’s much shorter stature, Carina was taller than average. She was bent to be more on level with Alessia, something Vittoria thought was odd since wouldn’t you want to be taller to intimidate the other-

“You–you–you!” Carina said.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Alessia interrupted.

“More like a little mouse! I can’t think straight because of you!”

“Sure it’s me and not your own dumbassery?”

Before Vittoria said anything, Aurelia slipped over and wound her arm around both their shoulders. Like this the height difference was even more pronounced, but she pulled the focus to her with her bright smile.

“Come on guys~ How could you start fighting as soon as you meet? We’re supposed to be friends, not enemies on sight~” she said.

“It’s looking impossible there, Aurie,” Alessia said and crossed her arms.

“Aww really? Come on Alessi. They just got off a long flight, we had a long day at school. We’re all tired so our tempers will be a little hot right now. How about we try again in the morning and see if there’s a difference, hm?” Both girls visibly relaxed under her arms. After a few seconds they nodded and looked away from one another.

Vittoria, taken aback by the affectionate nicknames each had for the other, was shocked at the ease her sister handled the fight. She’d had no plan to start, but Aurelia had quickly jumped into action and, with a few words, brought their anger down. Conflicting emotions flitted through her, but eventually she landed on pride for her sister. It’s a shame her powers are weak. She’d make a good guardian for me in the future, she thought.

Looking at the group, Vittoria’s heart swelled again. Rather than uncomfortable nerves choking her, a sense of fullness and warmth made her feel light and brought the tiniest smile to her face. It almost felt like she was coming home rather than coming to a new land. She found herself looking forward to the future.

Chapter end notes

What started the fight between Alessia and Carina??

While Vittoria was blubbering in Aurelia’s arms, Carina went up to introduce herself to the other girls. Wanting to practice her Japanese, she greeted them with “Long time no see!” instead of "Nice to meet you." Alessia, who’s voice tends to be on the (haughty) teasing side of things, asked her if she had just started learning Japanese.

Carina, embarrassed, asked “What’s it to you, kid?” and thus began a barrage of insults from one to the other and looked a little something like this:

“Hah, your brain is obviously nothing but cobwebs if you can’t tell I’m not a kid. I’m probably older than you even if you are built like a Brobdingnagian.”

“A what?”

“A giant from Gulliver’s Travels. Ever picked up a book?”

“That’s rude! And I doubt you’re older you little–little shortie! I’m 17. And at least I wouldn’t stoop so low as to make fun of someone’s height. Ah, well, that wasn’t what I meant–”

“It’s good being stupid isn’t a crime. I can feel my brain cells decreasing every time you talk. And I’ll have you know I’m 17 too, not a kid,”

“Really? Why are you so tiny??”

“Do you think before you speak at all or is it just a hamster up there running full speed on its little wheel?”

“Why do you keep calling me stupid in different ways?!”

“Why do you keep calling me short in different ways!?”

“I don’t mean to-”

“And that’s why you’re an idiot! Only idiots insult people by accident!”

“Not true. And I’m not an idiot, I mean sure I don’t test too well, and Gia said it’s a good thing I won’t need higher education, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot-”

“Only an idiot doesn’t know they’re an idiot-”

And so on.

#katekyo hitman reborn #katekyo hitman reborn fanfiction #khr #katekyo home tutor #reborn!#sawada tsunayoshi #original characters

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yaz-the-spaz · 6 years ago

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Hello! Just a quick question about bearding, why do we hate the beards so much? (;Gigi, Perrie, Taylor) (the famous ones that is) if we think that our boys don’t have a choice, then the girls don’t either, right?

why do people hate the “beards”? i get they hate that our boys are closeted, but i don’t get why they hate Eleanor or Gigi or Sophia (at the time). if there’s someone to hate is mngmt and s*mon. the girls are just doing a job and it’s not like they’re having the time of their lives. like, they’re “with” someone who love someone else. they can’t have a public relationship either. i think it’s awful for both of them:( i hope it ends soon.

lumping these together cause i’m assuming they’re from the same person since they appear to be asking basically the same thing in slightly different words, also sorry for taking so long to answer nonnie but honestly the thought of answering these just left me so exhausted, like this was literally me when i saw these asks

just because this is something that’s been discussed and re-discussed and re-re-discussed so much in this fandom and there’s so much information on it easily available at this point i almost feel like i shouldn’t have to explain it at all but nevertheless i will weather the storm and attempt to help you understand so here we go…

first off, while i agree with you that a lot of the blame that falls on the beards as individuals is undue—since at least for those that already had established careers in the entertainment industry there was likely at least some degree of coercion and contractual obligation from their respective teams as well just like for the boys and they’re likely not personally responsible for most of the stunts and bs narratives as much as it is their teams pulling the strings in their favor (though often heavily in the girls’ favors at the expense of the boys but that’s a whole separate point)—that doesn’t excuse the fact that they willingly agreed to partake in bearding and closeting. and before anyone chimes in with ‘well they night not have known they were helping to closet/beard someone’ let me stop you right there cause puh-lease. it’s 2018. the number of rumors piled up at this point about zayn/liam/louis/harry’s sexualities that the general public alone knows about is ridiculous all its own, and probably astronomical when you consider what those in the actual industry probably know/have heard by now. it’s not a secret. people in the industry know and they’ve all been soft outed publicly by others in the industry at least once (if not multiple times) at this point. so while the idea that these girls are coming into things blind and naive as a baby deer and have no idea what they’re getting into may have flown in 2011 it’s about as sturdy as sand now and has been since about 2012 (when the first gay rumors about louis, harry, and zayn started to fly).

i’m not gonna get much into perrie because i feel like she’s a separate case since she came from virtually the same machine as the boys but the other famous beards i don’t feel like deserve the same pass as the chances are higher that they still had at least some degree of choice in who they decided to date for pr. i could be very wrong but from what i’ve read and learned from those in the fandom that work in the industry that have talked about this, higher-profile celebs (like taylor and gigi) often get their pick of potential pr boyfriends from a list of candidates curated by their teams and/or have some sort of sway or say into who they’d prefer. and still they specifically (and repeatedly) chose queer men (or at least men widely believed to be queer, leading them both to now come to be seen by many as serial bearders).

those that came into it without established careers of course are a different ballgame because not only did they willingly agree to help closet and beard but they did so at the expense of the boys’, essentially using them as a stepping stone to climb the ladder of fame and success. eleanor might have gotten a pass back in 2011 when she popped onto the scene wide-eyed and bushy-tailed with probably no real idea of what she was getting into and no projects on the horizon to promote, but you can’t argue that she didn’t know exactly what she was getting into when she out of the blue re-upped her contract and came back on the scene in 2016 with a budding modeling career (with connections to gigi no less) and a renewed social media presence and her and louis suddenly started going everywhere looking like walking billboards, promoing every single high fashion company in existence. and pretty much all the “normal” non-famous 1d beards have followed this same/similar trajectory too. it goes: start off getting marketed as just a student and a “regular” girl who’s oh so private and not looking for fame or to be in the spotlight, then flash forward a couple years or a couple months post-break-up and suddenly they’re all models on the come-up with a 1d-launched following on social media, promoting their next shoot or fashion line or what-have-you.

if you see nothing wrong with any of that i can’t help you…

9 times out of 10 they’ve also turned out to be extremely gross people and this is actually the main reason most people hate them. not just because of the bearding but mainly because of the awful shit they’ve done all by themselves. the bearding is gross on its own sure but i think a fair amount of people these days recognize that—for some of them at least—not all of the blame for the bearding can be put on them individually and we’re not out to just blindly hate them for bearding alone like many fans were wont to do in the days of yesteryear because i think most of us understand by now that they’re people who can be just as manipulated into bullshit by those running things in the industry as the boys have. but whether they were coerced into bearding or not that doesn’t excuse many of their own disgusting behavior on a number of occasions. you can check some of the posts in my gigi, cheryl, danielle, and eleanor tags and the google webs for more concrete and exhaustive deets on the shit some of them have done but for the moment i’m just gonna list the biggest ones/and or the ones i can recall most easily off the top of my head

-gigi - involved in a bunch of racist shit (including borderline blackface, tasteless immigrant campaigns insinuating immigrants are literal aliens, and appropriating black hairstyles like afros and dreadlocks) which admittedly some of the blame for can be put on her team more so than her but still she’s not a puppet, she has a voice and some say in what she agrees to do and she fully could have turned the projects down if she saw anything wrong in it or at least apologized after the fact for participating in it and tried to make an effort not to participate in stuff like that again or to acknowledge why it was wrong (a la katy perry) and yet she continued to be involved in the same kind of shit over and over, but that also doesn’t excuse the shit she did all on her own when she made fun of asians for their features and never apologized for it and then when she got forced out of the Victoria Secret show in China b/c of all the backlash from Chinese people on sm she basically whined about it to her fans (in dm’s no less lmao wtf) and still didn’t actually apologize or admit she did anything wrong

-perrie* - called zayn a freak on-camera in an interview and basically insinuated that introverts and/or people who prefer to deal with their emotions in solitude or like to take time to be alone are weirdos

cheryl - showed her ass to be a transphobe and also a racist to the point of literal physical violence inflicted on a black woman, and also was accused of domestic violence, managed to avoid jail time for it all and basically bury it in the press, and is just an all-around gross person

danielle - cheated on liam multiple times with multiple guys, treated liam like shit, weaseled her way back into a contract for payzer 2.0 by threatening to out ziam unless mgmt brought her back on, came back out of nowhere this past year and essentially tried to use liam for publicity again (once more by nearly soft-outing ziam)

eleanor - went all the way to india to stage a fake indian wedding with her (all-white) friends complete with traditional indian dress and jewelry and insinuating something about indians being like dogs or something like that idk i can’t remember the particulars rn but i just remember it was gross and racist and that’s really all you need to know (although i also wouldn’t be surprised if she’s pulled some other racist shit i don’t even know about)

eta: i completely forgot about camille or that she even existed lol but she’s an absolute trash human being and here’s a whole thread on why (big thanks and shout out to @achristmasmuke for the link)

as far as i can tell sophia and danielle c. (louis’ danielle, not liam’s) seem to have been the least problematic of all the beards…that we know of anyway (though that’s honestly probably mostly b/c they were perhaps the most low-key and dry of all the beards which imo is a good thing though i wouldn’t completely rule out some shit from them coming to light at some point too…maybe it has and i just don’t know about it idk but i digress)

anyway if after all that if you still don’t see anything wrong i really can’t help you, but hopefully this at least helped you understand at least somewhat better why so many people can’t stand most of them, outside of just the bearding stuff.

tl;dr - while i agree that the beards don’t necessarily deserve all the personal blame and hate they get for the bearding and the stunts, that doesn’t excuse all the other gross (racist/transphobic/violent/or just generally insulting) things they’ve done all by themselves which is actually more so what people these days hate them for besides the bearding

(*as for perrie, i purposefully left out the point about her calling zayn indian that a lot of ppl in this fandom like to use for fodder against her b/c that was print perrie and i don’t believe a word of what was said in that article actually came out of her own mouth b/c the whole thing was “her” gushing about the wedding and every single time she was asked about it irl she was about as uninterested and unenthusiastic in talking about the wedding/engagement [or giving any details at all] as zayn was imo)

#asks #anons #beards #bearding #also apparently this unintentionally turned out to be another one of my #masterposts #whoops #but also #can’t believe things like this are still getting asked in the year of our lord 2018 #how many times have posts gone around enumerating all the gross things the beards have done #and how is it so hard to understand that most of these girls (esp the non-celebs ones) are willingly signing up to participate in closeting #*in closeting/bearding in exchange for a career boost #and that even the already-famous beards could have advocated for fake-dating literally any other (actually straight) high profile male cele #out of what was probably a veritable list of options they were given #but instead agreed to go with the queer ones and participate in closeting #yes to some degree it’s still not a nice experience for the girls too #but that in no way excuses everything else wrong with what they agreed to #or the shit they’ve done all on their own

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larathia · 2 years ago

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Re: S02E10

Okay. I’m just going to get this off my chest here, realizing that 90 percent of the people who would read it in the first place are probably mostly in agreement anyway, and the ten percent that wouldn’t are also unlikely to hear me out because they’ve already made up their minds about this series. Gonna do it anyway.

Raphtalia’s slave crest is not about slavery as a general social issue. It’s ENTIRELY about her personal relationship with Naofumi.

Don’t believe me? Think this series is about glorifying slavery? Look at every other slave owner. Look at every other slave. They’re ALL shitbags. They’re all assholes, abusers, and to some degree also sadists. EVERY other time this series shows you an instance of slavery, it’s a bad thing done by bad people.

Even Naofumi, way back at the beginning, takes it as a given that in buying a slave he’s basically being an Evil Shitbag. It’s just that a) he doesn’t have a better option, and b) at that point he’s so traumatized/fucked in the head that really, he’s mostly okay with filling that role; he already hates the whole world and everyone in it. And even so, even as fucked up as he is in the head at that point, he can’t bring himself to take any of the rage he feels at the rest of the world out on Raphtalia.

For Naofumi, that slave crest on Raphtalia is the first step toward healing. Because he was betrayed by people that he’d never done any wrong to, and he was so severely punished for trusting them, his entire ability to trust was completely fucked over. But Raphtalia is safe. Not because she’s small and weak when he buys her, but because that crest means she can’t lie to him, can’t betray him, can’t abandon him.

Is it fucked up? Oh hell yes. But so is the entire rest of his life. Under the circumstances, the exact circumstances, that he’s put through? It’s not an awful solution.

But it’s entirely dependent on that slave crest. Because Raphtalia seems nice, and seems to care about him - but so did Malty, and look where that led. In the early days of the partnership, it’s not Raphtalia that Naofumi can put trust in. It’s that slave crest. She CAN’T stab him in the back - so it’s safe for him to relax and be..as close to the guy he used to be as he’s still able to.

This is best exemplified in the duel episode. When Raphtalia is forcibly taken from him, and the slave crest is removed, Naofumi doesn’t for one instant think that Raphtalia would stay with him if she’s given a choice. Why would she? He may have been a kind master, as slave owners go, but he still forced her to fight monsters. She was still a slave. She was loyal because she wasn’t given a choice, right? He’s a horrible shitbag of a human being, by popular acclaim and probable personal experience. Of course she’ll run for the hills as soon as she has a chance.

She doesn’t, of course. She trusts him, and she believes in his mission, and she respects him as a Hero. There’s a lot of reasons why Raphtalia wants to stay with him at that stage that aren’t just “girl’s got a crush”, although that’s in there too. But she takes the step to put the crest back on with her eyes open. She does it as an act of faith and trust on her part, and she does it specifically so he can trust her. It’s not something she does because she finds being a slave sexually kinky or something. It’s an active, considered choice. And she’s right to make it at that time. Naofumi might protest that she ‘didn’t need to’, but she’s right when she disagrees with him. Naofumi’s trust issues are still VERY much in play all over the rest of his life. It’d only take one bad day, one disagreement without the crest, and he’d likely assume she’d betrayed him. (Witness his treatment of Melty, not too long after this.)

But just because Raphtalia is right at that time doesn’t mean she stays right indefinitely. I think she just got used to that being ‘how Naofumi is’, to be honest. Thinking that because of the way Melromarc treated him, he’s just NOT going to trust someone unless he KNOWS they can’t betray him. She doesn’t get any sign that maybe things have changed until the Cal Mira arc - and she does comment at the time that it’s unusual for Naofumi to be willing to make friends with L’arc and Therese. But then - well, yeah. Then they betray Naofumi and it’s reasonable enough that Raphtalia would find reassurance in her slave crest. Knowing that even if these other people betray Naofumi, at least he can sleep knowing SHE will never do so.

But by Season 2, Naofumi really has grown past the need for this particular crutch. He’s embarrassed by Raphtalia suggesting Rishia get a slave crest. He tries to ask her, in a roundabout way, if maybe she might not want her own removed? But she misses that hint. When they’re separated, in the new world, Naofmi’s relying on the crest just to find her, know she’s okay. His panic when she vanishes from his party screen is fear for her life, not fear for her freedom.

But Raphtalia spends that time apart thinking “I’ve lost my crest - Naofumi will not trust me, he’ll be mad at me or disappointed in me, he’ll be distant from me.” The crutch has essentially gone in reverse; Raphtalia’s come to think of it as THE big display of her devotion, and now it’s gone.

So she’s surprised when Naofumi, on their reunion, is just happy she’s alive, and glad to see her again, and doesn’t give a damn about the slave crest.

They’ve been partners a very long time at this point. They’ve outgrown the need for anything as overt as a slave crest for Naofumi to trust Raphtalia, or for Raphtalia to signify her loyalty. She’s now as close to his equal as she can be, a Vassal Weapon Holder, and he’s proud of her.

If the slave crest were ever about Naofumi needing to own, dominate, or control, he’d be pissed as fuck. And our boy Naofumi is not one to politely sidestep the issues when he’s pissed. But he’s not angry at all. He’s happy, and proud of her. He trusts her. And now she knows it.

#rising of the shield hero #the rising of the shield hero #shield hero #rotsh

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Like A Gold Rush || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college's football team. Rumor has it, there's simply nothing he can't do. The same cannot be said about you, but you've never had an issue with that. You're happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you've taken an interest in him — and you're sure you shouldn't. There's no way this can end well for you... right?

Also available on Ao3.

Word count: 17.3k

Genre: College AU, strangers to lovers, slice of life, mostly fluff

Warnings & Tags: discussed insecurities, alcohol consumption, reader almost has a panic attack at some point, shy jungkook, jungkook is bad at Feelings, Reader is bad at feelings too, mutual pining kinda, Jungkook has long hair, sfw, New Year’s Day themed.

A/N: I don’t know how I would name my stories without Taylor Swift. Anyway, this is more or less centered around the New Year (it was supposed to be more and then... it didn’t happen), and I hope you’ll enjoy it! Happy New Year everyone!

The first time you hear Jungkook’s name, it’s in the sentence “Man, is there anything Jungkook can’t do?”. You look up at your friend Jin from the book you’re studying. You have no idea who Jungkook is, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jin is always complaining about how you don’t know anyone on the campus, which you think is quite unfair.

…but then you really don’t know that many people on the campus.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, because he sounds extremely annoyed, and he shows you his phone. On it, there is a score for a basketball game. You think.

Your college is famous for its basketball team… Right?

“Uh-uh,” you still say with a nod, trying to make it look like you have any idea what you’re talking about.

“This kid is crushing it at school, the girls love him, and now this!” Jin complains, a little too loud, and shushing noises come from a spot behind you. You turn around to give the group an apologetic look. “I really shouldn’t have bet against him.”

Ah, there you know what to say.

“You really need to stop making bets. You never win them.”

Jin glares at you.

“And you are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to comfort me!”

“I’ll comfort you when you stop making the worst choices imaginable,” you mutter, going back to your work. Jungkook’s name, his supposed excellence, and that basketball match — if it even is basketball — leave your mind as fast as they entered it, without leaving a trace behind.

“So the school’s won another basketball game, huh?”

You look up at Namjoon who’s just arriving to the table, holding his tray in his hands. You know he can’t possibly be talking to you about that, so you’re not surprised when Jin appears behind him. That doesn’t stop you from throwing Namjoon a disgusted look.

“Really, Joon? Sports?”

Namjoon shoots you an amused glance from behind his glasses. It’s notorious in your friends’ group that you despise conversations around that subject. You hate anything that involves objects flying around and anything that’s played in a team, and, apparently, those are the only sports that people care about. They could discuss athletics, or swimming, which you wouldn’t enjoy but you wouldn’t hate, but that never happens.

“You were right, Jin. That Jungkook guy really is impressive.”

You tune them out. You don’t care about basketball.

“You’re talking about yesterday’s game?” Yoongi asks, coming out of thin air, and you sigh. You had been hoping you would have at least one person to talk to during lunch.

“Jungkook’s friends with Hoseok,” Jin says, leaning forward conspiratorially, which does get your attention. If that’s true, then that Jungkook guy can’t be a completely terrible person. Hoseok is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met.

That being said, he might have very low standards for his friends. You know him enough to appreciate him, not to judge his tastes.

“So I’m going to become friends with him,” Jin announces triumphantly, only to be rewarded by a chorus of groans and protests.

“But why, Jin?” you ask. “Please don’t talk about popularity. This isn’t high school anymore.”

“And that stuff was already stupid back then,” Namjoon adds, and you nod. You can always count on Namjoon to support you.

“And I hate people,” Yoongi says.

“And Yoongi hates people!” Namjoon immediately picks up. “Do you really want to make him go through that?”

You grin at the question. Yoongi’s misanthropy always comes in handy. Jin, however, is not amused, but he just shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s used to the three of you teaming up against him by now. Usually, it’s on academical subjects, but he isn’t phased by it anymore regardless of that. Not that there’s much that can phase Jin anyway.

“First of all, I said I was going to be his friend, not you lowly peasants, and second, he seems like a nice guy! Do I need another reason to want to make friends?”

You tilt your head.

“He’s protesting too much,” you say.

“I agree,” Namjoon nods. “That’s suspicious.”

“Very suspicious.”

“Come on,” Jin rolls his eyes, “do you really think that little of me?”

“And now he’s trying to guilt-trip us. Joon, can’t you analyze that conversation and figure out what it all means?”

“You know that’s not how literary analysis works, right?” Jin asks you, but you ignore him.

“Actually, it is,” Namjoon says, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’d say you were right with your comment,” he adds, looking at you. “I’d say… this is about parties.”

“You’re not going to actually believe—”

“Thanks, Joon,” you say, and the two of you high-five without looking at each other. Yoongi lets out an appreciate whistle.

Even if Namjoon and you aren’t being serious about this, parties actually make sense. Jin… isn’t quite a social butterfly but, unlike the three of you, he does enjoy people’s company to some degree. You know first hand that he’s been to a few this year — you had accompanied him for moral support — but they were pretty tame, and you’re aware that he at least wants to try some more intense stuff. The problem was that those were harder to be invited to. Hoseok could probably do something about it, but he tends to avoid parties on campus.

“Okay, then you should go for it,” you nod.

Yoongi and Namjoon, sitting on either side of you, approve. Jin looks a little surprised at your reaction.

“That changed your mind?”

“You said you wanted ‘the full college experience’,” Namjoon explains with a shrug. “If you think that’s part of it, we wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“We will judge you for it, though,” Yoongi warns without batting an eyelid, pokerface perfect, and you laugh. You won’t be mean about it, of course. You just might tease him a little.

“Thank you,” Jin says. “I’ll do it, then.”

Good. If you’re lucky, it will be out of his system next time you all have lunch together.

Lady luck had never been on your side, for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t like you got the worst of things either, but usually, things that could go wrong, did go wrong. Because of that, you tried your best to remove those things from your path. Sometimes, though, you just didn’t manage to identify them.

And that’s why, when you hear Jin’s voice and look up from your food, being the first at the table as always, you see he’s accompanied by two people.

One of them has fluffy, dark brown hair, falling on either side of his face and in his eyes. He’s talking and laughing, and there’s something that you can’t help but identify as mischievous in his smile. The other is slightly taller, with jet black hair held up in a bun. He’s quiet, mouth opening for silent laughs when his friend jokes. Between them, there’s Jin, and you think that they look good together. All handsome, all holding themselves with confidence.

You had realized before that Jin felt out of place in your group, from an outside point of view at least, but it’s never been as striking as it is now, as he’s walking with people he clearly belongs with.

It makes you really thankful that he’s your friend.

“Hey,” Jin says, smiling widely, “these are—”

“You’re untying your hair before eating?” you say, looking at the guy with the bun who just sat opposite from you and took off his hair tie with a sigh. He looks up at you with wide round eyes, like you just caught him red-handed — doing what, you’re not quite sure.

That is the first thing you ever say to Jeon Jungkook.

“Um. Yes?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get hair in your food?”

You know people find you too blunt sometimes, think you come off as aggressive, but you almost never intend for that to happen. In that case, you just think the logic here is a bit surprising.

“That’s… a good point, actually.”

“(Y/N),” Jin sighs, “let me introduce you to Jungkook” (he points to the man who’s now tying his hair back up) “and Taehyung.” (he points to the other guy, who’s flashing you a smile.)

“Oh,” you say, looking back at Jungkook. “You play basketball.”

He lets out an awkward laugh and avoids your eyes. Instead, he grabs his fork and focuses on it, twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, I do— I do that.”

Huh. It takes you a second to piece things together, and you think Namjoon will be of great help once he’ll be there, but for now, one conclusion comes to you.

Jungkook is shy.

“I play basketball too,” Taehyung says, leaning over the table, grinning at you, and you can tell that it’s his way of swooping in to save Jungkook. You can appreciate that.

“She hates basketball,” Jin warns.

“That’s a strong word,” you say, but only half-heartedly, because, well, you definitely don’t like it.

“I think it works.”

“You think what works?”

Jin’s face falls while you grin. If Taehyung is Jungkook’s savior, Namjoon is yours. Your friend sends you a questioning look as he sits next to you, facing Taehyung. He gives polite nods to the two basketball players, like they sit with you at lunch every week, but you notice that he doesn’t quite meet their eyes. Namjoon is not particularly shy, nor a misanthrope like Yoongi, he just isn’t too comfortable around people he’s just met.

You and Jin, well, you’re perhaps a little too comfortable. Not everyone likes it.

“He says I hate basketball.”

“But that would imply you care about basketball.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t.”

“I know.”

“Which means you don’t hate basketball. As always, you’re wrong, Jin.”

Jin looks extremely, extremely done with you, but when you and Namjoon high-five, Jungkook laughs quietly and Taehyung nods in appreciation — for the gesture, not the debate.

That is the moment when Yoongi drops his tray on the table and sends a weird glance towards Taehyung and Jungkook.

“What did I miss?” he asks. His tone is a bit dry, and you see Jin’s shoulders straightening. He knows Yoongi is going to be the most difficult one to win over. Not that you’ve been won over yet, but you’re not that difficult. Usually, people don’t like you, not the other way around. You don’t blame them. You’re not sure you’d like yourself very much if you were in their place.

“Oh,” Jungkook says spontaneously, “we had a class together last year! You’re majoring in engineering, right?”

Yoongi looks at him. His eyes are shining with suspicion, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Knowing him, he’s definitely wondering why Jungkook would even remember him.

“Right,” he finally confirms, slowly.

There’s a moment of silence, which Namjoon breaks.

“I’m a literature major, by the way.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook comments honestly, with the same spontaneity he displayed earlier.

“And I’m in mathematics,” you say.

“Wow. I thought you people existed only in legends,” Taehyung says while Jungkook avoids your eyes. You decide that, yeah, you like Kim Taehyung.

“Don’t say that, I like maths,” Jungkook protests, voice soft, much to your surprise — and, judging by his reaction, Taehyung’s.

You were right, you decide. Jungkook is not a completely terrible person.

You didn’t expect it to become a routine, for Jungkook and Taehyung to eat with you guys, but it does, and as time goes on, other people join your little table. You’re not sure you like that. It’s clear that those people are orbiting around Jungkook, which, good for them, but you don’t see why you need to be there for that.

You do see that Jungkook is not completely comfortable with all of it. He’s good at handling people, good at making jokes and at laughing at the right times, you notice, but there is a stiffness in his shoulders more often than not, and it looks like he’s well-trained at it rather than enjoying it. It kind of reminds you of Jin, except Jin is not as quiet the rest of the time. Taehyung obviously does his best not to let his friend deal with things alone, which is sweet, but he can’t do everything for him.

You barely exchange a word with Jungkook during that time period. You’re usually trying to be forgotten when the table is buzzing with noise, finding refuge in Namjoon and Yoongi’s company. You thought Yoongi would be an ally in reclaiming what’s always been your spot, but it quickly becomes obvious that he has a crush on Taehyung’s friend Jimin, so he never complains about the recent invasion of the table by strangers.

You hear a lot of basketball vocabulary. More than you care for, to be honest. That’s one of the few moments when Jungkook’s face lights up and he gets truly excited, with an almost childish happiness. His demeanor changes, from shy to confident, and the transformation never ceases to amaze you. As soon as the conversation ends, his shoulders fall, he smiles awkwardly, and focuses back on his food or his phone.

You’ve met his eyes a few times in those moments, because he often looks around him like he’s afraid someone’s noticed. He averts his very quickly, though, so you’ve never said anything about it.

So, really, there’s not much that changes. You still only speak to your three friends — you think Taehyung is a good person, and you don’t think he hates you, but you don’t have anything to say to each other —, and sure, you have a little less space when you eat and more noise around you, but aside from that, it’s pretty much the same. You think that’s a relief. You’re not too fond of change.

Usually, you’re pretty decent at spotting it coming. You did miss it when Jin said he was going to become Jungkook’s friend, but other than that you’re able to do your best to avoid it. You don’t see anything coming the day Taehyung calls out your name, though. You look up at him from the book Namjoon is showing you, surprised. He has an arm slung over Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook isn’t looking at you, of course.

“Do you think you could explain a maths-thing to Jungkook?”

You blink at him.

“What’s the ‘maths-thing’?”

“Does it matter?”

You raise an eyebrow, and Jungkook groans. You get the feeling that he didn’t really want Taehyung to ask you about it. He sends an annoyed glance to his friend, who is still smiling brightly at you, while pushing a lock of hair out of his face. His hair is tied, but this one traitorous lock always escapes.

“I’m struggling a little with probabilities,” he admits, glancing at you for half a second. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine once I can get my head back into it, I’ve just been training a lot recently and—”

“I can help you, if you want,” you say. “I’m not the most fond of probabilities, but it should be okay.”

“Great!” Taehyung says, patting his friend’s shoulder before Jungkook can answer. “You should do that then.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Jungkook asks, actually looking at you this time. You meet his eyes, notice that he looks worried about it. You can’t figure out why.

“I really don’t,” you shrug.

He smiles at you, a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless. Probably the first one he directs at you. It’s a nice sight, you decide, and you smile back.

Jin’s sentence “is there anything Jungkook can’t do” takes all its sense on the day you meet Jungkook at the library to study. You don’t know what you expected. You never thought Jungkook was dumb or anything, but since Taehyung asked you to help, you thought he would have some difficulties, at least. However, as it turns out, he either understands immediately when you explain something to him, or he’s already understood it. He asks for some clarifications here and there, but all in all, you feel kind of useless.

“You don’t need me at all,” you say after a little while, and Jungkook looks up from the book with the worried wide-eyed look you’ve gotten used to.

“No, no, you’re doing a great job,” he protests. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“No I’m not. It’s obvious that you could do that all on your own.”

He deflates a little at that, looks away from you.

“You help,” he mumbles. “I have a hard time focusing when I’m alone.”

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense to you, actually. You’re good at focusing all of your energy on one thing, perhaps even too good, to the point where you easily get obsessed and become unable to take care of anything else, but even you need the right conditions for that.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

Jungkook gives you an anxious look.

“So you don’t mind helping me out?” he asks, and there’s something in his voice that catches you, but you can’t tell what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the hope, or maybe it’s the fear. You don’t understand what he’d be afraid of. Worst case scenario, you would say no. That wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“We can work together,” you offer. “You can ask me if you need help for anything and I’ll just work on some other stuff.”

He seems relieved, and again, you just don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re his only option. There are plenty of people out there who could help him. Plenty of people who would jump at the opportunity of helping him. You know that, because he’s always surrounded by those people, and everybody in school seems to know him. Even when you walked into the library with him earlier, before you got to the table you’re sitting at now, a few students greeted him. You don’t see why he would attach any importance to you, specifically, helping him. You barely know each other.

“Thanks,” he says, and he gives you a small smile. For some reason, that makes you drop the subject. Instead of asking about it — which, knowing yourself, you probably would have — you shrug it off and reply with a nod.

The silence that follows feels comfortable, to you at least. You’ve never minded silence. Jin hates it, though. You get to work, watching absent-mindedly as Jungkook goes through the lesson he was working on. He does ask you a couple of questions, but it’s probably to make you feel like you’re doing something rather than because he actually needs it. You still answer them, and watch him grin, satisfied with himself, when he turns out to be right every single time.

“Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this week-end?” he asks out of the blue after about an hour.

You look up, surprised. The two of you haven’t exchanged much, and certainly have not talked about anything other than— well, other than maths. His eyes are on his notebook, as usual, and you don’t get any insight as to why he asked the question.

“I don’t know. Is Jin coming?”

“Uh, I guess? Taehyung’s probably talked to him about it.”

“Then I’m probably going.”

Jungkook mulls over your answer for a few seconds, twirling his pencil between his fingers, and you feel like you have to clarify, which is not an urge you have often. Usually, you let people decipher for themselves what you meant. That works very well with Namjoon, sometimes with Yoongi, not so great with the rest of the world. Including Jin, though Jin compensates with his impressive ability to interpret everything you say in his favor.

“We always go to parties with Jin. For moral support.”

For all that you tease him, you genuinely care for him. You know he wants you to go with him, so you do. It’s as simple as that.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, but he still smiles at what you say, and it’s— it’s interesting. There’s something about his behavior that makes you curious, like you are when you’re trying to solve a complicated equation.

“That’s nice,” he comments.

“So… you’ll be there?” you ask. It’s taken you a long time to come up with that simple question. It often takes you a long time to find things to say to keep a conversation going. You’re pretty bad at it.

“It’s at my fraternity,” Jungkook informs you, glancing at you briefly, and you smile. This is exactly the type of party Jin wanted to go to. He’s probably happy about it. “The entire basketball team should be there.”

Great. People.

“That’s nice,” you say, because you have no idea what to add at this point. Jungkook simply nods, and the conversation dies an awkward death.

It’s another half an hour until Jungkook looks at his watch and starts putting his stuff back in his bag.

“I have to go to practice,” he tells you, clearly in a hurry. “Can we— Would you mind if—”

“We can do this again. If that’s what you meant.”

He gives you a bright smile, and that actually surprises you. He looks relieved that you finished his sentence for him.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

And just like that, he’s gone, practically running out of the library. For someone who talks as little as he does, he sure leaves a void when he goes away, you think, looking at the empty chair.

But you quickly shrug it off. You’re used to being alone. You like being alone.

Jungkook isn’t going to change that.

You realize very quickly that, while accompanying Jin to parties was never something you particularly enjoyed, going to this one was downright a mistake.

You have this unspoken rule, with your friends, that you shouldn’t stick together the entire time. You’re supposed to wander off, find something to do for yourself, maybe talk to some people. Get that college experience. You’ve never had a problem to do that, even if you ended up quietly sipping soda in a corner more often than not.

Here, though, you simply cannot shake off the fact that you don’t belong here, that this is not your scene. The people here are loud, energetic, garish. They make you feel like a black and white picture, like a silent movie. You want to run away, but you can’t. You don’t want to leave Jin, Namjoon or Yoongi behind, even if you doubt they’re having the same kind of problems you do. You’re pretty sure you saw Yoongi talking with Jimin, and last time you saw Namjoon, you think a cheerleader was holding him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You don’t know what Jin’s doing, but you’re trusting that he’s okay.

You walk around aimlessly, find Jungkook and Taehyung playing beer-pong with some people. Maybe you should be happy to see people you know, but you’re not. If anything, it only drives the point home even more to see them so comfortable: you don’t belong here. Your chest tightens, and you turn around. You need a little peace and quiet. You need to get away.

“(Y/N)!”

You jump at the sound of your name. No one’s said it since you’ve entered the house. No one knows you here.

Except Jungkook, who’s right behind you.

He’s more confident than usual, and you guess, based on his slightly hazy eyes, that it has a lot to do with alcohol.

“Are you having fun? How long have you been here? It’s nice to see you!”

He’s speaking fast, excitedly, and as he does, he runs his fingers through his hair, which he’s let down. It looks good on him, you decide, even as you reply to him with a tense smile.

“Hey, you should join us, we’re—”

“Do you have a closet somewhere?”

Jungkook blinks.

“A closet?”

“Yeah.”

There are probably very few things that are less weird than asking a guy if he has a closet you can get into because you’re on the verge of having a panic attack and you can’t stay outside surrounded by people a second longer.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, though. He just leads you through the house and opens the door to a closet for you. You get inside without giving it much more thought, and he looks at you, puzzled. He’s actually looking at you, which you decide confirms that he is drunk.

“Do you— Are you waiting for someone?”

“No,” you say. “I just need a little break.”

He thinks about your answer for a while, probably longer than needed, and nods.

And then, he gets into the closet with you and closes the door.

Inside, it’s dark, with only a ray of light coming in. You can’t see his face, which doesn’t help you understand why he just did that. The space is cramped, and you can smell alcohol coming from his breath, can feel the heat radiating from his body, but it doesn’t bother you that much. It’s still better in here than outside.

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought I would keep you company. Like you’re here to keep company to Jin, you know?”

He’s drunk, definitely, and yet you feel genuinely touched by his words. You shouldn’t, because you doubt they hold that much meaning, but you can’t help it. You don’t need company, but that’s besides the point. His intentions are what matters.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It’s not a problem. You’re helping me with my maths.”

Your first reaction is to laugh at that, because it feels completely unprompted, but then the logic of the reasoning kind of appears to you.

“I mean it!” Jungkook protests. “You haven’t talked about how I’m good at everything or how I’m the one who should help you.”

You frown.

“You shouldn’t help me. You’re good at maths, but I’m better than you.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, and just like his earlier smile, it takes you completely by surprise. It’s not one of those quiet laughs that he usually has. It’s light and pleasant, and you briefly wonder what his face looks like when he laughs like that. You kind of want to see it.

“You’re a scary person,” he tells you when he’s stopped laughing. “You always say those things directly. It’s like you don’t even care.”

You’ve heard that before. Well, you haven’t been called scary until now, but people have said that you were intimidating. You, personally, believe you’re the least threatening person to have ever walked this Earth. You couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to.

Jungkook makes some sense here, though. Your filter is very limited, and there are a lot of things you say that feel acceptable to you, and that other people… don’t think are acceptable. You don’t mean to do it. It just happens.

“I think you’re good at a lot of things, though,” you say slowly.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh and then you hear him sliding down to the ground. You hesitate for about half a second before joining him down there. You fold your legs, holding your knees against your chest while you wait for him to say something.

“People are always saying that,” he finally mumbles. “But what if I’m not that good? What if I fail one day?”

It’s strange. You understand what he’s saying, understand the feeling of pressure, but you don’t understand the emotions that should come with it. In your case, you know that no one holds you to a higher standard than you do. It can be unhealthy, the way you can torture yourself if you don’t meet the standards you’ve set for yourself, but at least you’re the only one you have to answer to. Obviously, it’s not Jungkook’s case.

“Then you’ll try again,” you say, because that’s what you do when you fail. “Or, if you think it’s not that important, you won’t.”

“But what will they say?” he insists. “What if we lose the next game? Or the one after that? What if I fail a class? I can’t get anything done these days.”

“You’ll be fine,” you say soothingly, half-wondering how you ended up here, comforting the college’s golden boy in a closet after fighting off a panic attack. “It’s not like you’re the only one in your team. People will understand.”

You think they will. You hope they will. They should.

“You would understand.”

It’s true, but then, you really do not care for basketball, and it’s not like you have that sort of expectations for Jungkook. You wouldn’t think much of it, if he failed at something tomorrow. If it was the maths test you’ve helped him with, you would be surprised, but that’s because you saw him studying and it was obvious he had understood everything, not because you think he can inherently succeed at everything he does.

Which you guess might be the heart of the problem here.

You reach out to put your hand on his shoulder. It’s not that easy in the dark, and you wonder for a second if you’ve grabbed something else, until you feel hair tickling your skin. Yup, you were right.

“You have the right not to be good at something every once in a while,” you say softly. “No one can be on top of their game all of the time.”

You hear what sounds like a choked sob.

“I like that they’re counting on me, you know? I like that I’m helping them out by playing. I just— I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

He said when, not if, and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking about it, you slide your hand down his arm and grab his hand. You squeeze it in yours, gently, and then you inch closer to put your head on his shoulder. You remember reading that physical touch was good for people who were in emotional pain. You hope it helps him.

“You locked yourself in here with me because you thought I needed company,” you whisper. “There’s so much more to you than just being good at sports or having good grades. And if people don’t see that, it’s their loss. Because you’re a great person.”

He hums, but the sound is quiet, and it’s then that you realize how tense he is.

Shit. You must have crossed a boundary. You start to remove your hand, but he closes his fingers around yours, keeping you in place. He’s still tense, you can feel it everywhere his body touches yours. But he doesn’t let go.

“You mean that,” he says. There are so many emotions in his voice that you can’t identify them all. Relief, happiness, amusement… You don’t know where to start.

“I usually mean what I say.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, and you can hear the smile that’s dancing on his lips.

He’s still not letting go of your hand, but you don’t mind. Staying here, with Jungkook, in this small closet is as good a way of spending your evening as anything else you could do out there.

So you stay.

“Where did you all vanish Saturday?” Jin asks, and Namjoon, Yoongi and yourself immediately find your food a lot more interesting. You exchange panicked glances that mean ‘did none of you stay around? This was poorly coordinated’ before finally daring to look up.

“I talked to Jimin,” Yoongi says, face as inexpressive as always.

“I played some beer-pong with Taehyung,” Namjoon says.

That leaves only you.

“I talked to Jungkook,” you tell Jin. That is technically true. It omits the part where the two of you were together in a closet, but if you said that, there would be a lot of questions you don’t really want to answer to. Somehow, you think you would be more embarrassed to tell them that there was nothing going on there than if you told them you hooked up with him. You’re not sure why.

“Jungkook disappeared for a long time,” Jin says, narrowing his eyes at you.

You do your best to keep a straight face while you poke at your salad. You don’t want anyone here to have the wrong idea, and you finally manage to put your finger on what you’re afraid of. Humiliation. You’d feel humiliated at having to tell them that nothing happened and that there is nothing Jungkook could possibly see in you. They would be nice to you, of course they would, but you don’t want to see the look in their eyes.

“Did he? Maybe that was after I left. I didn’t stay that long.”

That’s a lie.

“Really?” Jin asks, clearly skeptical. “I think I saw you there pretty late.”

Maybe when you went down to get some snacks and drinks to bring back to the closet. Damn Jungkook and his stomach.

“Well, that depends what you mean by ‘late’ and ‘long’,” you say.

That’s you calling Namjoon for help, and he recognizes your SOS for what it is. From the way Jin’s face falls, so does he.

“She’s right,” Namjoon comments, so nonchalant you would almost believe he’s doing it naturally. “What is ‘late’, really? Isn’t it always—”

“Please stop,” Jin groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just because you’re a literature major doesn’t mean you’re the only one who understands words.”

“Actually it does,” you say with a nod. “That’s exactly what it means.”

You start lifting your hand for a high-five, relieved Jin’s attention is off you, but he sends the two of you a dark glare.

“You two are unbearable. Don’t do that.”

“We have to,” you protest. You would hate to miss a chance to high-five Namjoon.

“No you don’t, you—”

“Actually they do,” Yoongi says, and your jaw drops. Yoongi never intervenes, and you had always thought that if he did, it wouldn’t be in your favor. “That’s exactly how gravity works.”

Jin looks like his soul has left his body. He only comes back to himself after you, Yoongi and Namjoon have all exchanged high-fives.

“I hate you,” he says, sounding terribly tired. “I hate every single one of you.”

“Sorry Jin,” you smile warmly.

“No you’re not. You’re the worst.”

Except he sounds fond, affectionate, and you laugh before going back to your salad. You miss the quick glances your three friends exchange after that. They’ve all noticed you eluding and changing the subject. They don’t want to rush you, know you would hate it and that it’s better to drop it.

But they’ve noticed.

Working with Jungkook on Wednesday afternoons easily becomes a habit, so easily you don’t even notice it until it’s something you look forward to during the week. It adds to the time you already spend eating with him and Taehyung. Jungkook is, slowly, starting to become a part of your life. It’s a thought you refuse to dwell on, because it sounds so strange.

The Wednesdays afternoons are something special, though. You and Jungkook don’t really talk at lunch, even if he’s clearly more relaxed around you now, which you suspect is the reason why you’re ‘Taehyung-approved’. On Wednesdays, you— Well, you don’t talk much, either, but it’s different. It’s a time that only belongs to the two of you. You like that.

You slowly find out things about him, his family, his life. It’s never the main subject of conversation, but it makes you feel like you’re solving a puzzle.

“My father wanted me to focus on my classes and forget about basketball,” he comments once. “But I could do both.”

It makes you laugh, because he says it with obvious satisfaction, but it also makes you wonder if there’s more to it. Jungkook doesn’t add anything, though, and you don’t want to probe into his life, so you don’t ask. After that, small pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place.

“My high school coach told me I could train more if I didn’t work so hard for school.” But he could do both.

“My friends said I never hung out with them anymore and that I shouldn’t work so hard.” So he did both.

It’s always the same story. People telling him things, giving him opinions on what the should and shouldn’t do, and him stretching himself thinner and thinner. It’s almost a miracle he’s still doing as well as he is, honestly.

But his tone changes when he talks about his former relationships. He’s usually light and genuine, sharing with you just because. It’s clear that, as much as the stories make you frown, he doesn’t have an issue with them, and you guess that’s all that matters. The first time he says something about an ex-girlfriend of his, though, he’s guarded, almost careful. He sounds like he doesn’t want to tell you.

“My ex said I worked too much.”

He doesn’t add anything. Whatever it was she wanted, he couldn’t do it and work. Didn’t manage to do both. After that, he doesn’t look at you for the rest of the day, like he did when you first met.

You never get a name for the girlfriend. He talks about relationships again, but you don’t even know if he’s always talking about the same one. You doubt it, though, and it only makes things worse.

“My ex wanted me to attend fewer practices.”

“My ex said I didn’t care enough to make time for her.”

“My ex dumped me after I lost a game.”

That last one hurts you, because you remember him crying in the closet because of that exact fear. You want to take his hand again, but you can’t dare to.

“She’s stupid for that,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks surprised first, because you never comment on what he’s telling you, then a smile slowly forms on his lips.

“If the only reason she was with you was because you won a lot of games, you’re better off without her,” you add.

“That’s what Taehyung said.”

“Taehyung’s right.”

Jungkook goes quiet for a little while after that, to the point that you look up, worried that you might have offended him. When you do, he’s looking at you, something you can’t identify shining in his eyes.

“Everything okay?”

He blinks like he’d just woken up for a dream, then nods. He doesn’t tell you that he hadn’t believed what Taehyung said — until you said it and he looked at you and thought that yeah, maybe he was better off without her indeed.

You’re surprised to run into Jungkook late one night, as you’re walking back to your dorm. It shouldn’t shock you — you do go to the same college — but you’re so used to only ever seeing him in the library or the cafeteria that meeting him outside is almost confusing. At least he seems taken aback as well, if the way his already round eyes widen is anything to go by.

Then, his surprised face morphs into a smile, and a wave of warmth hits you without a warning. You don’t get any time to think about it before he waves at you. His shyness is not completely gone, and you see him waver, hesitate, even as he’s walking up to you. You’re quick to close the gap between you, meeting him in the middle. Just in case.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy. He has what you identify as a sports bag, slung over his shoulder, and you wonder what he was doing out so late. You were working at the library until it closed, which is far from being rare for you, but that obviously wasn’t his case.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back. “Were you— training?”

Amusement flashes in his eyes at the careful way you chose your words, afraid to get it wrong. As he grew more comfortable around you, he also started making fun of you for not knowing the first thing about basketball. Strangely, you don’t mind that much.

“I was at the gym,” he says. “Practice was earlier today.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Should you ask what he was doing at the gym? The answer would only leave you with more questions, you’re sure.

You’re still debating it when Jungkook clears his throat. He reaches for his ponytail and undoes it, shaking his head so the hair fall back into place. The sight is— interesting. Pretty. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinated by it.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” he asks, slight concern in his voice. “It’s late.”

“Is it on your way back?” you question, frowning. You would hate to be a bother.

“No, but—”

“I’m fine, then. I do that several times a week, I’ve never had a problem.”

That was, apparently, not the thing to say. Jungkook only looks more worried now.

“Several times a week? That’s really not careful.”

“I don’t see a problem, there’s no one around.”

“That’s exactly my p—” He stops and shakes his head, but gives a look you’ve seen before. A lot. It’s a look that says ‘I can’t believe someone as smart as you can also be so stupid’, in those exact terms. “Expected value,” he then says, and your eyes widen a little. Maths! Great. You can do maths. “Let’s say there’s a 99% chance nothing happens. Your gain is still minimal.”

Well, you get to study late and enjoy a walk home alone at night, but you’re willing to humor him.

“But in the one per-cent where something bad happens…”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. You know exactly where this is going, and you let out a sigh. He’s not wrong. On that aspect, at least.

“Fine.”

He grins widely.

“I just beat you at maths.”

“You didn’t beat me, I—”

“I just beat you at maths!”

You roll your eyes, choose to let him have that. It’s not going to change anything to your behavior after tonight, because the day has not come where you’ll let probabilities rule your life, but, after all, you don’t mind sharing your night walk with him.

Jungkook starts showing up to walk you home whenever he can. It’s not every time, which you’re kind of thankful for — you like his company, but you like being alone just as much, and you need a healthy dose of that every week —, but it does happen regularly. You find him sitting in front of the library, freezing cold, and you take pity on him, buying him a coffee from the vending machine inside, seconds before they lock the building.

That’s how you find out he likes his coffee tasting as little like coffee as possible.

Sometimes, he joins you later, and you hear him jogging to catch up with you. You don’t have the heart to tell him that that defeats the purpose of everything he’s doing, because it’s absolutely terrifying.

As the days turn into weeks, the air becomes colder, and you start seeing Christmas decorations appearing over the campus. You don’t know who is in charge of doing that, but they must be excited about it, because tinsel and few strings of fairy lights start appearing around the campus at the end of November. Jungkook is delighted by it, and you enjoy watching his reactions. You’re not big on Christmas, personally. You enjoy the tradition, the gift-giving, spending time with your family — you’re visiting them briefly this year — but you mostly see Christmas as an excuse for all of that. Jungkook loves it, though, and you decide that his excitement makes you like the season a little more.

“Hey, we should make a stop,” he tells you one night.

You look at him like he’s crazy. It’s the middle of December and it’s already half past nine. You’re cold, it’s dark outside, and you want to go home.

“A stop?” you repeat.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, and he has that wide, childish grin that you’ve seen only a handful of times. You haven’t learned how to resist it yet. “C’mon!”

You sigh. But you follow.

As it turns out, he takes you just a little way off your usual trajectory. Behind a building you’ve never really paid attention to, Jungkook leads you to a small basketball court. You eye the place suspiciously. It’s empty, well lit, but you never know. A ball might come out of nowhere to hit you in the face, as they had a tendency to do when you were in high school and playing for a team that had picked you last.

By the time you turn around to tell Jungkook that, okay, you’ve seen it, let’s go home now, he’s taken off his coat and pulled a basketball out of his bag. You don’t even want to ask. His grin is even wider than earlier.

“C’mon,” he says.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let me show you, okay?”

You want to say no but— It can’t hurt, right? And Jungkook loves basketball, and you’re his— friend or something, so you should try to take some interest in it.

You take off your coat and let him lead you onto the court. There, you watch him as he dribbles in what you guess is an effective way (you can’t know for sure, you’re barely able to catch the ball after it’s bounced once so your standards are incredibly low), and then demonstrates his ability to score a handful of times. It’s not that you’re not impressed — again, you can’t do anything with this unpredictable, devilish round thing — but you also can’t say this is a quality you think much of.

You liked it a lot better when he convinced you to let him walk you home by talking about the expected value.

“You want to try?” he offers, holding the ball out for you.

You would rather die.

But you take the ball from his hand and eye the basket like it’s personally offended you. That makes Jungkook laugh.

“You can get closer than that,” he says.

You hold back a groan, aim and, of course, fail. It’s almost a relief. You can cross that off your list, again, just like you did as a kid first, then as a teenager. You’re bad at sports, always have been and, considering the effort you’re putting into it those days, always will be. That’s something you can count on.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook’s caught the ball and is running back towards you.

“Okay, let me show you.”

Is he going to— No, he’s just demonstrating it. You’re kind of disappointed not to get your typical ‘guy teaching girl anything sports related’ moment, disappointed that he doesn’t come to stand behind you to show you like they do in movies, but you can’t unpack that right now. You do watch with some degree of interest as he shows you how to position yourself.

“So you really aim for the line above the basket, not the basket, okay?”

“If you think that just because I aim for something I hit it…”

He chuckles, then gives the ball back to you, and you sigh. This. This is why you hate sports. It’s not the one-off failure, that would be fine on its own. It’s the constant humiliation whenever you even try it. You’re going to fail this attempt, and the next one, and the one after that. You’re a lost cause. You’re fine with it, too, but you don’t particularly want to go through that again.

You do your best, though. Not because you think it will change something, but because you kind of want to prove that this isn’t all you. That, even if you’re trying your hardest, there’s just something that refuses to let you score or do it right.

“Wait!” Jungkook walks over to you, puts his hand on your back, and you freeze. “You need to straighten yourself a little,” he says, placing his hand between your shoulder blades, and you nod. His hand is warm and large, you can feel it even over your sweatshirt. “There.”

He removes the hand, and you’re left a little off balance without him by your side. You shake your head quickly, shoot, and, without any surprise, miss.

Jungkook is on the ball just as fast as before, but you’re as quick as him to grab your coat and put it back on. You’re already feeling warm all over, though.

“You don’t want to try again?” he asks, sounding genuinely disappointed.

Of course, you take pity on him.

“Maybe next time,” you say.

He gives you a bright smile, so genuinely happy, and you know that you won’t be able to deny him next time either.

Jin is the reason you’re here, and that is the version you will stick with. No, you didn’t want to go see a basketball game, even if Jungkook is playing. No, you didn’t feel the slightest bit curious about it. No, you would not be there if Jin hadn’t asked. It’s Jin’s fault if you’re here on a Friday night instead of being, well, at your place, likely doing something equally as unproductive.

You don’t even understand what is going on in the field. There’s a lot of running and throwing the ball, that’s for sure, but then, you’ve just learned that scoring from different places in the field and at different moments will not earn the players the same amount of points.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friends look at you with such consternation as when they had to explain it to you.

In that situation, you can’t say that you get much from looking at the field. You definitely follow Jungkook with your eyes, cheer and clap when he scores, and let out cries of disappointment with the rest of the crowd when he doesn’t, but truly, the only way you have any idea what’s going on is by looking at the score board. And the truth is, that score is a little too close for comfort.

You hate that it has that much of an impact on you, but it stresses you out. Your leg bounces on the floor, an habit of yours Jin hates, but he’s too focused to notice, which is only more stressful. Jin always notices, and if it doesn’t, it must mean that the situation is dire.

The remaining seconds are slowly ticking down. Jungkook’s team is ahead by only one point, which means that if the other team scores, they will win. You think. You’re not entirely sure, but for your defense, you’ve just heard about it. Jungkook seems to be everywhere on the field. Taehyung is his shadow, perhaps not as noticeable or as spectacular in his actions, but certainly effective.

Again, you have no knowledge of basketball whatsoever.

Jin grabs your thigh, and only then do you realize that something’s happened. The action was so quick, so smooth, that you missed it entirely — but maybe you were also kind of thinking of something else.

Someone from the other team — you don’t even know your school’s team’s players, you’re not going to learn the other ones — just made a break for it. Based on what you can tell, Taehyung blocked his path, pushing him straight into Jungkook’s arms. In a movement you cannot begin to comprehend, Jungkook takes the ball from him, without ever stopping his run.

After that, he’s unstoppable.

He crosses the field, looking almost like he’s dancing in the way he avoids his opponents, and, of course, scores.

The time falls to zero. The crowd stands up like one man, screaming and shouting, and you yourself find yourself jumping up to hug Jin. He hugs you back, but the two of you quickly separate, patting each other’s backs awkwardly.

Jin starts talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, but you tune them out — it’s not like you understand what they’re saying anyway — to look at the field. The players have lifted Jungkook on their shoulders and he’s laughing, holding on to them so he doesn’t fall, and you grin.

“Come on,” Jin says, “let’s go congratulate him!”

That sounds like a terrible idea, you think. You won’t be the only ones, as the crowd has already invaded the field, and you doubt you’ll be able to get very close.

You still follow him. You alternate between clinging to his arm and to his shoulders so you don’t lose him, and trust him to elbow his way through the crowd. You hear him apologizing profusely in front of you, but he does not stop. Slowly, you make it down. Once you’re off the stairs, people are not as compactly gathered, and you can just walk between them. Jin grins at you, and you give him a thumbs up. Yeah, he did good here. You can give him that.

“Hey, Jungkook!” he calls out.

Jungkook was talking with some girls, but he looks up at the sound of his name, excuses himself, and jogs towards the two of you.

And it is then, in the few seconds it takes him to get to you, that it hits you. Like a ton of bricks.

You had known that Jungkook was objectively attractive, of course. There was no ignoring that. But Jin was objectively attractive, too, and that had never changed anything between the two of you. With Jungkook, right now, it does. His skin is glistening with sweat, and he wipes his chin with his shirt, and oh no, you can see his well-defined biceps and the line of his abs, and some hair is escaping from his ponytail, and he’s grinning with a happy, proud smile, and his eyes are shining and—

Jungkook is hot. That’s your realization. You had been aware of it, technically, but it’s like it only clicks for you at that exact moment.

“You came,” he tells you with a bright smile, and you can feel your entire face heating up. You pray that it’s not visible.

“Yeah,” you squeak out. “Great, um, great game?”

It sounds like an interrogation because you have no idea if it was one. It looked difficult, but maybe that was because they played terribly today. You don’t know that.

Jungkook’s smile widens a little, and you know that he has you all figured out. He knows you don’t understand the first thing about this whole thing.

“Thanks,” he still says.

His chest is still heaving quickly, and it draws your attention to his— his everything. The way he’s leaning towards you as he’s trying to catch his breath doesn’t help either. You wait for Jin to say something, to save you, but when you look around, you realize the traitor has abandoned you completely.

Okay, he hasn’t technically abandoned you, he’s just gone to congratulate Taehyung, but it’s the same difference.

You hear someone else calling Jungkook’s name before you’ve figured out what to say. He looks around, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I—”

“No problem, you should— I have to go anyway.”

This is not like you. You’re an awkward person, and you struggle in social situations, but you don’t usually trip over your words like that. You kind of hate it.

“Okay, so, um, I’ll see you…?”

“Wednesday, yeah. Or— before. At lunch. If you’re there.”

This is terrible.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you one last smile, and then he’s off, and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd. Your chest is heavy and it feels painful.

You hate this.

It’s only after that that you start realizing how big of a part Jungkook now plays in your life. He walks you home at night sometimes. You eat with him once or twice a week. You study together for an entire afternoon on Wednesdays. He’s just— everywhere. And it’s not that it’s a bad thing, because the feeling you get when you see him is a pleasant one, but it is disconcerting. It’s something that you have no control over whatsoever and that’s not— that’s not good for you.

You realize how much attention you were already paying to him, too, which is even more annoying. The signs were there. You should have understood this sooner. If you had, maybe you could have prevented it.

Because that’s the thing. You know the situation is ridiculous. You believe Jungkook sees you as a friend, and you’re happy with that, but there is no way he thinks of you as anything else. That is not an idea you should even begin to entertain. You can handle rejection, you’re used to it in so many aspects, though it’s rarely romantic, but you cannot take getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed.

The thing is, you can’t help it at this point, can’t force your feelings back in. There is so much to like about him. The way he plays with his hair, the quiet laughs when he’s in public, the loud ones when he’s walking you home, the sparkle in his eyes when he asks you a question in maths and it turns out he already had it right, the look on his face when he talks about basketball,… There’s so much.

You briefly consider avoiding him, but that’s not really an option. You like being his friend. You see your feelings as annoying, pesky little things that have no business being there in the first place. You don’t even hate the rush that goes through you when you see him, the way just looking at him brings a smile to your lips that you simply can’t hold back.

But you really, really hate the wishful thinking. The hope.

The feelings are fine, as long as you don’t think too hard about it. As long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Because that would break your heart.

And it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

You really considered declining when Jin asked you to come to this New Year’s party. Your last experience had effectively convinced you that those new parties he was getting invited to were not for you. That was fine, to each their own, but that did mean you didn’t really want to go. He clearly didn’t need you there anyway. You didn’t even know why he asked.

But he did, and he insisted, and he gave you his best puppy eyes, and that’s the thing about Jin: he’s very, very good at giving puppy eyes.

So that’s why you’re there, wearing a red dress that’s way too flashy for you, leaning against a wall and staring into the void. You feel empty and, though you’re not alone, lonely. You’re surrounded by strangers, and there are people everywhere in the house, but you don’t know them, and you can’t just start a conversation with them. It’s not something you do, it’s not even something you want.

You haven’t felt the urge to lock yourself inside a closet yet, though, so you guess that’s an improvement compared to last time.

Looking around, you can see Jimin, perched on the counter, listening to Yoongi talk with a smile on his face. Jin is somewhere else in the room and, though you can’t see him, you sometimes hear him, so you know he has his flirting voice on. Namjoon is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably a good sign. He always get lucky at those parties. You don’t know how he does it. It’s impressive, honestly. Hoseok showed up earlier, and everyone greeted him like he was a star — which is kind of accurate, actually, at the campus’ scale.

You know, of course, that Jungkook and Taehyung, as inseparable as ever, are by the pool table. You also hate that you know it, because now your mind is constantly wondering if it’s weird that you haven’t been there yet, or if it would be weird to show up. Neither, probably, because exactly no one cares except for you, but you’re the master of torturing yourself with useless considerations.

God, you hate having a crush. It’s just so— unpractical. You also hate that you didn’t see that one coming, and that you didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. Usually, you’re pretty good at nipping those kinds of feelings in the bud. Now, you can only wait it out.

With a sigh, you push yourself away from the wall to wander aimlessly around the house. You promised Jin you’d stay until midnight, and you intend to keep that promise. It’s not like there’s anything for you to do, but still, that way you can look like you’re doing something and look a little less weird. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Passing in front of the room with the pool table, you realize that Jungkook is gone. Taehyung is still there, playing with Hoseok, both looking pretty wasted, but Jungkook has vanished. That’s not good. You don’t want him to spring up on you out of nowhere like he did last time. You won’t know how to react if that happens, probably fumble for words, and it will be very unpleasant and very embarrassing for everyone.

You consider finding another closet, then decides against it. There’s just fifteen minutes left until midnight, anyway. That’s not too long. You can just wait it out.

You slowly make your way through the house. No sign of Jungkook anywhere. Maybe he left. Maybe he’s already back to the pool table and you missed him completely. Maybe he’s locked himself in a room with a girl and—

Oh you hate this. You hate feeling jealous. You hate that you have no control over it, you hate that it makes you sad, you hate that you have no right to feel like that. Jungkook isn’t yours. He’s probably even considered you for anything. You should consider yourself lucky you’re even friends with him in the first place.

You do your best to push everything out of your mind. Alcohol has never looked more tempting, but you don’t want the hangover with the morning, so you ignore the inviting bottles of beer and walk out.

It’s freezing — of course it’s freezing, it’s December you idiot, is there anything you can do right tonight — and you shiver, but you stay there. The cold is both numbing and soothing, and while you’re mentally complaining about it, you’re not thinking about anything else, so that’s good.

The door opens and closes behind you, and you guess someone is coming out to smoke. You move over to give them some space, but just as you do that, a jacket falls over your shoulders. You jump at first, and then the warmth makes you sigh in relief.

“You shouldn’t go out without a coat,” Jungkook says, because of course it’s him.

“I feel that you’ve been scolding me a lot recently,” you chuckle, glancing up at him.

He pouts, buries his hands in his pockets. He’s obviously cold as well, but at least his shirt covers his arms.

It also hugs his muscles real nice, but that’s besides the point.

“That’s because you make very poor decisions,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “You have to realize that.”

“You’re right. I could have taken my coat outside.”

“You know that walking back all alone in the middle of the night is way worse,” he protests, and then you laugh, because that’s exactly what you wanted, and he goes quiet for a second. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, looking away from you again.

“I’m not,” you say, and you take a step in his direction so you can bump your shoulder against his. “You shouldn’t worry that much, but I think it’s nice that you do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That worked really well,” he says, and he sounds surprised about it. You wonder if it’s because he usually doesn’t get angry for stuff, but you can’t tell for sure. “Hey, you—”

People start shouting numbers inside, and you turn around to look at them.

“It’s midnight,” you say.

“Five!”

You look up at Jungkook. He’s significantly taller than you. Not as much as Namjoon, but still.

“Four!”

Jungkook looks back at you, smiles, and it takes your breath away. His hair looks very good like that, you think absent-mindedly, with the way it falls on either side of his face.

“Three!”

It’s too late to go back inside now. It would definitely be a weird thing to do. Which means you’re here, alone, with Jungkook.

“Two!”

Your eyes flicker to his lips. You wonder what it would be like to kiss them. You haven’t let yourself even consider it before, but right now your brain isn’t functioning all that well. Probably because of how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“One!”

You look back up and his eyes are wide and focused on you. There’s that same tension in his shoulders as when you first met him, except, back then, he couldn’t look at you, and now it seems that he can’t look away.

“Happy new year!”

You decide you shouldn’t think about your next move. You get on your tiptoes to plant a kiss at the corner of his lips, right at the border between friends and something else, but he leans forward right at that moment, and his hands cup your face, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s like an explosion. You don’t know what you should focus on. How warm he is, how soft and large his hands are, how his lips move against yours, how he tastes, or simply the fact that he’s kissing you, Jungkook is kissing you!

The door slams open, and the two of you move away in a jump.

“Happy new year Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, obviously drunk, soon joined by several other members of the basketball team. If he’s seen what happened, he doesn’t say anything, and you doubt Taehyung would have that kind of control over himself.

Soon, Jungkook is surrounded and they start to drag him back inside. He gives you a brief, apologetic look, then follows them, laughing. You remain there, frozen, unsure of what to do. You take a hesitant step towards the door, only to see a girl planting kisses on his cheeks while he blushes. What gets to you, though, is the arm he’s wrapped around her, the way he’s tracing circles on the naked skin of her shoulder. It makes the gesture look… intimate. Personal.

You let out a brief, bitter laugh, that there is fortunately no one to hear. You feel confused, but mostly, you feel stupid.

Fuck that.

It doesn’t take long for you to drop the jacket onto a chair and find your coat. You wish a happy new year to Namjoon, when you pass by him on your way out, and he looks a little surprised, like he hasn’t heard the shouting. You don’t want to know what he could have been up to.

You’ve kept your end of the bargain, you think as you leave. Jin won’t be able to complain to you. You feel some petty sort of satisfaction when you step outside and find yourself alone alone, finally. You like this. You like being alone. You’ve never asked for anything else.

You give one last look to the party, then vanish into the night. You’re better off on your own anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming,” you say, nonchalantly, as everyone around the table is talking animatedly about a party for the next week-end.

You had hoped it would go unnoticed in the middle of the conversation, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t go as planned. Taehyung turns horrified eyes towards you, Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi all look surprised, and Jungkook… You don’t know how to read him. There’s that surprise, as well, but then he looks down before you can tell anything else. Not that that changes much. He’s barely looked at you today.

You haven’t talked to him since New Year’s Eve. You had other things on your mind, and then he didn’t show up at the library last Wednesday.

“What do you mean, you won’t be coming?” Jin asks. “You always come to parties.”

You shrug. You don’t miss the alarmed looks your friends are exchanging, and you’re sure Namjoon can see through you. Because it’s not like you to do something like that, whatever reason you may give.

“I don’t like them. They’re too loud, and I can’t say that I really enjoy standing alone for half the night.”

“You could stay with us,” Namjoon offers.

“And watch you pick up a girl every time? No thank you,” you reply with a disgusted shiver.

“You could stay with me,” Yoongi says.

You give him a look, and he grimaces, backing down immediately. Okay. He can see why you wouldn’t want that either. Plus he’s pretty sure that Jimin and him are about to get it on after weeks of flirting, so it’s probably not a great idea.

“What about me?” Jin asks. He doesn’t sound as energetic as usual, his voice almost quiet, and you realize that he probably feels bad because of what you said. He knows you come to those parties because of him, so knowing you don’t have fun at all when you’re attending — you understand that he might feel responsible.

“I think I would bore you very quickly,” you chuckle. “You’re not going to get the fun you want with me. But it’s fine, really. I tried it, and now I know it’s not for me. I can just—”

“No,” Taehyung says.

You blink.

“No?”

“I’m taking this personally,” he tells you, looking you dead in the eye. “You’re coming to this party and I’m going to make you enjoy yourself.”

You’ve never seen him so serious, and you can’t help it. You burst out laughing.

“Taehyung,” you say softly when you’re done. “I appreciate that, I do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, then winces and closes it. You’re not sure what happened there, but he gives Jungkook an offended look.

“I’m sorry,” you add. “I’m sure your parties can be great, but—”

“I get it,” he sighs. “But you owe me.”

You’re not sure why, but fine.

“And you can’t say anything bad about those parties, to anyone. Ever.” In that moment, he looks almost threatening, and you blink, confused. He can’t possibly take it that seriously, can he?

Then he yelps and rubs his leg. He gives Jungkook another annoyed look, but Jungkook doesn’t even look up from his food.

“Leave her alone,” he just mumbles.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t add anything. He does give you a long, pointed glance, though, before muttering under his breath something that sounds a lot like “I won’t let that slander stand,” and you think that’s hilarious too.

When you risk a glance at Jungkook, his arms are folded over his chest, and he looks deep in thought. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes focused on his meal, though he’s not touching it. It’s stupid, but the image of a child that has just been scolded flashes in your mind.

“Jungkook? Is everything alright?”

He jumps at your question, looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes meet, but it’s extremely brief, and your chest tightens. This sucks. You thought the two of you had gotten past that now, and you hate that you lost what you had. It’s not like it’s your fault. He kissed you, and then he bailed on you first chance he got. Why would he do that, why would he risk it, if he was going to react like that afterwards?

“I’m fine,” he says with a tense smile, and you doubt it’s true, but you don’t know what you should ask him to confront him about it. You don’t want to talk about the kiss ever again. You certainly don’t want to do it in front of your friends.

So you jump on the first chance you get to leave the table. You don’t ask yourself if it’s a weird thing to do. It probably is, but fuck it, you’re weird, and everyone else can deal with it. You refuse to subject yourself to something unpleasant longer than absolutely necessary.

Except the looks you get are mostly concerned ones, from Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook does look up as you walk away, eyes following you almost longingly, and then he lets out a long sigh that catches Taehyung’s attention. He doesn’t say anything, but he narrows his eyes at him.

God. He really has to get everything done here, doesn’t he?

At first, you think that this is it. Your— your whatever it was that you had with Jungkook is over. You’ll see him around every now and then, and maybe he’ll give you a polite nod, though it doesn’t look like he would even do that right now, but there won’t be anything else. You’ll go back to being basically strangers, and it will be fine, because really, nothing happened there, right? You had a crush on him, he kissed you once, and then nothing. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Sure, it makes you a little sad. Sure, you catch yourself looking at him while he’s surrounded by girls who are all so much better for him than you ever were, and it hurts a little. Sure, walking back home alone at night is a little more unpleasant than it used to be, but that’s the thing. It’s only a little. You would almost pat yourself on the back for it. Congrats, (Y/N). You made it out before you got too attached. You probably avoided a world of hurt.

Because you know. You know that if you had gotten in too deep, it would have hurt like hell to not have Jeon Jungkook. And sure, it hurts right now.

But only a little.

You’re good. You’re safe. You know that Namjoon and Yoongi would nod if you told them about it. They understand, in a way a lot of other people don’t. You don’t think that Jin would, for example. He would tell you to take the risk, not understanding that people like Jungkook used to pick you last for their teams when you were in high school, not understanding that as far as you’re concerned, you’ve handled more than enough rejection throughout your life. But Namjoon and Yoongi… They’re definitely more successful than you in matters of the heart, but they would still understand. Not that you’re going to tell them about it, because it’s a stupid story, because there never was anything there, and because you’d feel really dumb talking about how you thought, how you hoped that— You’re not going to tell them anything. At least everything’s okay now.

And then, Jungkook appears at your usual table at the library on a Wednesday afternoon. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a seat next to you. You’re surprised to see him when you look up, too focused on your studies to notice him approaching. He has big, wide doe eyes, and he watches your reaction carefully.

“You’re— This seat isn’t taken?”

You shake your head. No. People rarely come here, and you don’t really study with people. Well, didn’t, you suppose.

“Do you mind if I sit here?“

“The seat’s free. You can take it if you want.”

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You never considered that Jungkook would— That he would—

“I, um, I like studying with you. It helps me focus,” he says, eyes flickering away from you. “So, if you don’t mind I’ll— Can I come back here on Wednesdays?”

You want to tell him that you can’t stop him, that he can do whatever the hell he want, but even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, you don’t.

“Of course you can,” you say instead.

Jungkook looks up long enough to flash you a smile, and you know. This isn’t over, and you’re not going to be fine. You’re probably going to feel crushed, sooner than later, and you could have stopped it all right now.

You think about Yoongi and how not like him it is to be doing what he is with Jimin. How he’s taking a risk. How it could oh so easily not have paid off.

It’s going to, of course. You just need to look at Jimin’s eyes when he’s talking to Yoongi to know that. But Jungkook doesn’t look at you like that. Jungkook doesn’t look at you at all.

And yet here you are. Taking that exact same risk.

God. You can be so stupid some times.

Jungkook glances at you quickly while you’re deep in thought, tapping your pencil against your cheek, and a small smile forms on his lips. He’s quick to glance away, because he would hate it if you caught him, of course, but the smile doesn’t fade.

He couldn’t have forced it to do so if he tried.

“You have to come to the next game.”

“Taehyung, hey, nice to see you to, I’m doing fine, I—”

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I know you hate basketball and everything that breathes, but—”

“I don’t hate you.”

“—this is really important and— Wait, really? Thank you. I feel that means a lot coming from you.”

“Is that how you see me? I don’t hate everyone, Taehyung.”

“Can you give me a list of people you don’t hate?”

“Well, you, Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon…”

“Jungkook?”

“…Sure. Jungkook. Why do you want me to come to the next game?”

“Because we might lose.”

“And I’m supposed to change that how?”

“You owe me, remember?”

“I— Because of the parties? Seriously? I need to sit through hours of you guys running after a ball because I don’t like parties?”

“I would really appreciate it if you could avoid describing basketball as ‘guys running after a ball’.”

“I would really appreciate not having to go watch the game.”

“Don’t you want to support your friends on the team?”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be there. Just— stop that thing you’re doing with your eyebrows. Why are you even doing that?”

“You’re so slow. How are you so slow? I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Taehyung…”

“Just be there!”

“I will.”

“You better!”

“Or what, what will you— Taehyung! You can’t just run off like— Well. I guess he could.”

You hadn’t thought sitting through a basketball game could become a more painful experience to you than it already was. As it turns out, you were wrong. It was so much worse when the people you wanted to win were losing. Despite yourself, you found yourself getting invested, standing up and shouting encouragements along with Jin and Namjoon, and protesting loudly when things didn’t go your way.

You were not cut out for this. Not because you still didn’t understand half the rules — you could have by now if you had made the effort of memorizing them — but because of the stress. God, how did your friends handle that regularly? How did the players handle it? You kept looking at Jungkook. You could tell how unhappy he was with the situation, could see the disappointment settling in. He also seemed to get more nervous as time went by, which didn’t help his performance, and his words kept echoing in your mind.

”I don’t know what’s going to happen when I stop being as good.”

You’re half way through the game and things are not looking good when Taehyung waves you over. You run to the railway, straining to hear him, and when you finally understand what he’s saying, you regret making any effort at all.

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

But he is.

“You owe me, (Y/N)!”

“I’m already— What’s it even going to do?”

“Trust me on that one, okay?”

You glare at him, but he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and there’s nothing you can do against that. You sigh deeply. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest just thinking about what he’s asking you to do. Maybe it’s not such a big deal for him, that sort of stuff, but for you— For you it’s downright insane to even consider.

“Kim Taehyung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “if this goes bad, I’ll kill you and plant your head on a stick outside of my door to warn my enemies not to underestimate me.”

He has the audacity to shrug at that.

“It won’t go bad.”

You look up. Take a deep breath. And call Jungkook’s name.

The gym is insanely loud, and it takes both you and Taehyung’s efforts, as well as a lot of waving, for Jungkook to notice you. When he does, though, he runs towards you, worry obvious on his face. He’s looking directly at you for once, and the intensity of his stare almost makes you shiver.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when he gets there, eyes scanning you quickly to make sure that you’re okay.

“It’s fine, I just—”

“What are you doing here? You hate basketball. Did something happen?”

You shake your head. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do this, especially when he’s looking so puzzled and when he’s questioning your sanity for showing up at one of his games. You glance over at Taehyung who gives you a decided nod.

Ah. Fuck it.

Leaning over about as far as you can go, you cup Jungkook’s face, and as his expression turns to one of surprise, you kiss him. If people around notice or have a reaction, you can’t tell, because Jungkook pushes himself against you and buries his hand in your hair as he holds you. There’s not much space left for thinking in your mind, instead entirely consumed by thoughts of him. He’s completely sober this time, and you don’t taste alcohol on his tongue. He’s also not going as slow, almost desperately kissing you back, one strong hand supporting you so you don’t fall over, and you just melt.

It takes everything in you to push yourself away. When you do, you’re breathless, and he’s staring at you with eyes even wider than usual. You’re pretty sure Taehyung would want you to give an encouraging speech right now, but you don’t want to do that right now.

“I really don’t care if you’re winning or losing games,” you say instead. “If you’re sad, I’ll be sad with you, but it’s never going to change anything in how I see you. But I’ll be here encouraging you.”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight.

“Promise?” he asks, almost childishly.

You’re not sure which part he’s referring to, but they’re all true, so you nod.

“I promise.”

He smiles, and then both him and Taehyung are running back across the field and getting yelled at by their coach, but even from where you’re standing, you can see their smiles.

You guess that means you’re not going to murder Taehyung.

“This is actually insane. How is Jungkook even doing that?” Yoongi asks in disbelief after Jungkook scored extremely impressively yet again, and you fidget in your seat. You’re very happy to see that, though you don’t how you feel about the smug looks Taehyung is sending you, but you don’t want—

“It’s the power of love,” Jin says, nodding like he just gave an essential truth to the meaning of life.

—this. You, very specifically, don’t want this.

“Jin,” you sigh, “there’s no such thing as—”

“Actually,” Namjoon interrupts you, “I think he’s right. The power of love is a thing, and I think this is a perfect demonstration of it.”

You gape at him, in shock. He betrayed you?

“Did you just—”

“Namjoon’s right,” Yoongi nods. “This is how the power of love works. You take love, and you turn it into strength.”

And then, him, Jin and Namjoon high five, and you gasp. Traitors. All of them.

But after that, Jimin says off-handedly “Maybe you should come and kiss me before my next competition” and Yoongi’s brain visibly stops functioning, so you consider yourself avenged.

After the match, you wait for Jungkook outside of the locker room. Jin insisted you should go celebrate on the field, but you had declined. It felt like the situation required something a little more private, so now you’re here, leaning against the wall, looking at your phone so you’ll seem busy, even if there’s nothing on there to occupy yourself.

You’re not the only one there, and that doesn’t help soothing your nerves. There are a lot of girls, all pretty and smiling. It makes you feel like a groupie, and you don’t like it. You’re relieved for a second when the door opens and the team comes out, but it doesn’t last long, because the girls are soon surrounding them. You remain where you were standing, watching the whole thing happen. It takes a few moments before you notice Jungkook’s bun standing out of the group, and it makes you smile.

You catch Taehyung’s eye first, and, after you’ve sent him a glare that you hope was threatening, he pushes Jungkook out of the group. At first, he seems confused, before he finally finds you. You wave at him hesitantly. He blinks a few times, his eyes wide, then walks towards you.

“Hey,” he says when he joins you. He’s towering over you. Usually, you don’t like that, and you’ve complained about having to look up at Namjoon more than once, but you don’t necessarily mind right now.

“Hey,” you reply.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you try to think of something to say. You should have prepared a speech, you know that, but you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to say it either.

“Taehyung told me he told you to kiss me,” Jungkook blurts out after a while, looking away from you, and you give him a surprised glance. “So, you don’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to kiss you,” you interrupt him, a puzzled frown forming on your face.

Jungkook’s head whips back towards you, and you just stare at him in confusion.

“Do you really think I would have kissed you just because Taehyung asked me to?”

“Well you— you came to the game because he asked you to, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“Jungkook!” someone from the team calls. “We’re going to grab a bite to celebrate, do you wanna come?”

Jungkook sighs, then gives you a sharp look.

“You wanted to kiss me,” he repeats.

You nod.

“Why?”

You bite your lower lip, and you’re not oblivious to the way his eyes fall to your mouth when you do.

“And I’m the blunt one,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just— I wanted to kiss you because I like you. Obviously.”

Jungkook swallows, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks over his shoulder at his friends.

“You can go without me!”

There are some protests, but he ignores them to give you his entire attention. It’s… not an unpleasant feeling.

“You disappeared after I kissed you the last time,” he says.

“You left,” you protest immediately. “You kissed me, and then the second your friends arrived, you acted like nothing happened and you left.”

“I didn’t want to— I just— They’re really annoying about that stuff, you know? I thought it would probably be better if I talked to you after— ‘m sorry. I didn’t— didn’t realize it—”

You look at Jungkook, watch him fumbling for words, and it hits you like a ton of bricks, how much you do like him. Those words really don’t do it justice, and maybe you’re not quite ready to talk about love just yet, but you like him so much, so much it makes your heart swell, so much you don’t think what what he’s trying to tell you would change anything to it, and yet what he’s trying to say is exactly what prompts your realization. He didn’t want to hurt you. Wanted this to be private, for just the two of you, wanted to see how you felt about it. And maybe he went the wrong way about it, but it means everything that he was trying.

“Walk me home?” you ask.

Jungkook finally stops his rambling.

“Are you sure?”

Of course, he has to ask that now, after weeks of trying to convince him to let you walk on your own. Still, you smile and nod, and when you start walking side by side, you grab his hand. He freezes temporarily before grinning and squeezing your hand, pulling it into his pocket so you won’t be too cold, because the air of January is chilling.

“Congratulations for the game,” you say after a long, comfortable silence. You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I had some help.”

And then, he winks at you, and your heart misses a beat. That’s when you understand something you hadn’t even considered before: if Jungkook stops being shy around you, you’re done for. You’ll be the one constantly flustered.

“So,” you say, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, “why did you kiss me?”

“Um. Same as you?” Jungkook’s confidence disappears, and he returns to his awkward self, and you see that, as much as you like it, you want him to be comfortable around you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask innocently.

He gives you a horrified look that soon turns to an offended one when he notices you grinning widely.

“You’re so mean,” he says, but he’s smiling too, “you’re the meanest person I know.”

You’re laughing at that point, as you stop in front of your dorm.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I kissed you because I like you.”

It’s funny. You knew that was what he was going to say, knew it was coming, and yet it gets to you all the same.

“With you, I don’t feel like I have to be the school’s star, you know? I can just be— Jungkook. You don’t expect me to be anything else.”

He’s right. You like Jungkook. With his insecurities and his flaws. You don’t want him to perform for you, and you don’t care what he’s doing right and wrong. Just studying maths in the library with him makes you happy.

He eyes your dorm and takes a deep breath.

“I should go,” he says.

You hum.

“Yes, it would be a really bad idea if you came up tonight.”

But you’re not letting go of his hand, and he’s close to you now, close enough that you can feel his breath catching in his throat. It makes you smile.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats.

This time, instead of laughing, you kiss him, and it’s completely different from the two previous times. There is no uncertainty in this kiss, no surprise, no pressure, no fear. It’s perfect. Jungkook’s hand comes to cup your cheek, his lips soft against your own. His long fingers gently stroke your jaw as he keeps the kiss chaste and sweet. It only makes you yearn for more and when he moves away, you can see in his eyes that he wants more as well.

You just don’t think he wants it now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” you ask.

“I’ll meet you for lunch,” he says solemnly, and it rings like a promise, which makes you smile.

When you move away, though, he doesn’t let go of you, and a pouty expression appears on his face before he releases you.

“I— Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come up if you want to, you know?”

He hesitates, rolls his lips together.

“I want to savor this,” he admits to you in a near whisper.

“Then I’ll go.”

“Yes. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You feel light and giddy as you walk through the door. It’s a nice and strange feeling, like you could just start floating any second.

You already can’t wait for the next day.

People are definitely weirded out by your relationship with Jungkook. Or, rather, by Jungkook’s relationship with you. You’re pretty sure most of the people who give you weird looks when you sit next to him and he wraps his arm around you, or when you walk hand in hand, wouldn’t pay attention to you if you went to class naked. But they all know who Jungkook is, and you guess it is weird to see you in conjunction with him.

They could ignore it and consider you mere part of the scenery when he ate with you, you suppose, but it is harder to do now. You’re not too fond of being the center of attention, to be honest. You don’t know how Jungkook does it.

What takes you by surprise the most is people being nice to you. That confuses you to no end, because you know for a fact they don’t care about you, not really, and you cannot fathom what they think they’re going to get out of this. You’re pretty sure there are a girl or two who are doing that to get closer to Jungkook, and some, you think, have decided to be nice to you because they think that if Jungkook likes you, you can’t be a total lost cause.

You don’t like that feeling. Not at all. You don’t like it when you’re going to class, you don’t like it during lunch, and you definitely, definitely do not like it when people rush towards you the second you get to a party.

Yeah, you’re giving Taehyung what he wanted, in the end. He said that both you and Jungkook owed him, because without him you wouldn’t be together, and you eventually gave in.

You thought it would be fine, now that you have someone to spend time with, but you understand with horror that your status has changed now. You’re not invisible anymore. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriendTM. Because of that, you spend much longer in the entrance making small talk than you would have wished to, and you’re stopped a couple of times while you’re desperately looking for your boyfriend to save you from this hell on earth.

You’re not surprised at all to find him playing beer pong with Taehyung and other guys from the team. He hasn’t gotten time to get drunk yet, so he’s quite impressive, but then again, they all are. That’s why they usually end up wasted.

The second he sees you, though, he abandons the game completely, and the smile on his face threatens to make your heart explode in your chest. Some of the guys turn around to look at you, give you a wave or a smile. Taehyung shouts a greeting.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your lips. He doesn’t like PDA all that much, but he never misses a chance to kiss you, and the thought makes you all giddy.

“Hey. Are you, um, having fun there?”

He shrugs.

“It’s not that bad. Wanna play?” He waits for your expression to turn to one of horror as you try to refuse politely before laughing. “Just kidding. Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a relieved breath. You know you and Jungkook are very different people, and you’re doing your best to take an interest in the things he likes. You’ve been learning the rules of basketball, for example, and though you still don’t believe you get the point, you like the way his eyes shine when you say something right about a game.

But you don’t take part in any of that stuff. Okay, you stop at that field that’s on your way home from the library every now and again, but that doesn’t count. It’s just you and him then, and you feel good and relaxed. You’ve even scored a couple of times now.

“Come on, I want to grab a drink,” Jungkook said, taking your hand in his, and you follow without protesting.

It’s probably your second mistake of the night: not realizing that getting a drink with and without Jungkook are two very different ordeals. On your way there, you get roped into several conversations. Those are fine. You can’t say you enjoy them, but they’re fine, and it’s not like those people are actually talking to you anyway.

What you genuinely dislike is that, when you’re by the table with the drinks, a girl starts openly flirting with your boyfriend. It’s not subtle, either, with the way she keeps touching his arm and how she laughs at his every word.

For a while, you just stare in disbelief. You know Jungkook is oblivious to that sort of things — probably one more reason why he likes how blunt you are — but you can’t believe her. You wouldn’t necessarily blame the girl for trying, either, if she didn’t know about you. Jungkook’s quite the catch after all, and you understand liking him better than anyone else.

No, it’s the fact that she’s doing it right in front of you, while Jungkook is holding your hand. It feels so— dismissive. So insulting. She’s not exactly saying to your face that she doesn’t take you seriously, but she might as well.

You watch incredulously when she puts her hand on his arm one more time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to handle that, so you just tug on Jungkook’s hand a little awkwardly. You’re pleased by how quickly his attention snaps to you, even while the girl is in the middle of her sentence. It’s a petty sentiment, for sure, but you can’t help it.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Is it too loud in here?”

“Kind of, but—”

“Let’s find you a quieter place.”

He forgets about the drink he wanted to get, forgets about the girl, who he abandons there unceremoniously, gently pulling you through the room. Next thing you know, he’s carefully closing the doors of the closet he’s found for the two of you behind you.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied with himself. “Better?”

You chuckle at that and, guessing for him in the half-light, you pull him towards you for a kiss. You press your body against his, pushing him against the back of the closet, and a groan forms in his throat. His hands tighten around you, sending shivers through your entire being, and you only lean into him more. You run your fingers over his chest, just to feel him tremble under your touch and he does, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth. “Was that— was that what you had in mind?”

You shake your head, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“That girl was flirting with you,” you tell him.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

You are.

“So… are you jealous? Because that’s kind of hot.”

You laugh softly. Truth is, you really, really don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend, but Jungkook actually sounds happy about the idea.

“You really didn’t notice?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I didn’t. Does that— Did it bother you, that she was doing that?”

“Kind of,” you shrug. “What about you? You’re— cool with that?”

“If it bothers you I don’t like it,” he replies simply, one of his hand leaving your waist to grab yours and squeeze it gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

That makes you chuckle.

“How didn’t you? She would have made it barely more obvious if she had started undressing herself.”

Jungkook has an awkward laugh, and you can feel his breath on your face. He starts fidgeting, but then you press a kiss right at the corner of his lips, and he calms down, if just a little.

“It’s— You have to promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitates a second longer, as though he’s trying to judge your sincerity by looking at you — except, of course, he can barely see a thing in here. You kiss him again, following his jaw, and he finally gives in when you start making your way down his neck.

“When I’m with you, it’s like my vision narrows on you,” he says, voice low. “I know everything and everyone else is still there, but I just think about you. Sorry, it’s really stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say, shaking your head, wondering if he can feel your heart beating stupidly fast in your chest, all because his words make you feel like nothing else ever has before. “But I’m— I’m kind of boring. That can’t be fun.”

“You’re not boring,” he protests. “You listen to people, even when you don’t look like it. You always look like you have a thousand things on your mind but you always make time for your friends, and when you’re studying here, you play with your hair.” He twirls a lock of your hair around one of his fingers before releasing it, as if to demonstrate. “You’re a very, very interesting person to look at.”

The only thing you can do is stay there, frozen in his arms, after he’s said that. You may be blunt, but Jungkook is honest. Devastatingly so. His vulnerability always shatters the walls that you’ve built around yourself, and you still don’t know how to react when that happens.

So you push yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again, except this time it’s slow and gentle and you’re trying to put everything he means to you into it. The tip of your fingers are on his cheeks, your mouth barely moving against his, soft noises filling the closet. Jungkook remains still, letting you in complete control, like he’s afraid he could break you if he moved.

“Thank you,” you whisper when you pull away from him.

“For what?” he asks, breathless.

“For being here with me tonight, and for coming with me at that first party.”

“Of course. Any time.”

He lets himself fall to the floor, taking you down with him and keeping you into his lap once he’s done that. You rest your head against his chest. You hear the noises of the party still going on outside, but Jungkook is your island of peace in the middle of the chaos.

“I think I’m going to stop basketball,” Jungkook blurts out without a warning, and you look at him, surprised.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Really. I just— I don’t want to be doing that anymore.”

You think about it for a few seconds, then nod.

“You probably should stop, in that case.”

“People are… not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m sure Taehyung won’t be mad at you. Well, not for too long.”

He laughs softly, but his hold on you doesn’t relax, and you know that this was hard for him to even consider. You know it’s a terrifying decision to take, too.

“Thank you,” he says. “For being here with me tonight, too.”

“Any time.”

The truth is, you wouldn’t give that moment away for anything in the world, and something tells you Jungkook wouldn’t either. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but you don’t believe there is such a thing, and you’re happy to satisfy yourself with the imperfect.

But any moment you can spend in Jungkook is as close to perfect as can be.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, and you think that he might feels the same way, which almost makes you burst with happiness.

“And I love you,” you whisper back.

Not perfect, perhaps. But close enough.

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts imagine #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #candywrites

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generallybrontidefeelings · 4 years ago

Text

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #the mentalist fanfiction #I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab #it does exist #DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES #IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DON'T DO IT #I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS #BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DONT #DO #IT

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zodiacrant · 4 years ago

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🍩My experiences with each Moon sign🍩

(Cause yall are messy)

I have done this a few times before but for Sun signs and did rank placements but never shared my thoughts and experiences with the Moon signs.

Now I know how this goes, so if you get mad or sad then go off I guess. Aint the first time I get cursed out or attacked in this bitch. Plus, I am a Cap moon so naturally I won’t do well with some Moons and I will be nitpicking everything about everyone.

🍩Aries Moon🍩

My dad’s moon. Yup, that tells you alot without me even starting. Having our Moons in Square shit was hard to say the least. It took a long time for us to be on middle grounds and because I don’t feel comfortable talking about my problems here I will continue on. The Aries Moon that I really like and can think of is Rihanna, so I would say it’s unfair to make a whole judgment but from what I saw and heard they’re not exactly the best to be around. So I give them a 3/10 for being bold and having nerve.

🍩Taurus Moon🍩

Now this Moon right here I know people from ( a close friend and my sister, plus some others) and I don’t have many strong opinions about it. As a Taurus Sun, it can be a challenge to work with a Taurus Moon. I am stubborn at my core and they’re stubborn with their heart, so everytime we disagree it’s like a rope pulling contest. Way too stagnant for me but I think that’s because of my other placements and they don’t take any advice or open up no matter what. On to the good, I never disliked someone with this placement. No matter how much of an asshole they can be, to me it is difficult to hate them or stay mad at them. They’re warm, kind, and sweet but a bit aloof and naive, also they don’t like to touch and hug as some people might think. I will give them a 8/10

🍩Gemini Moon🍩

(⚠️TW⚠️ mention of rape and erratic behavior)

I only had one best friend with this placement and I don’t I want to meet any more, and I am at peace with that if they resemble her in any way. She was a maniac. She loved to lie, create drama, blow shit up, act crazy and basically be shocking. I do find similarities with Gemini Sun where they do shit for reactions but with her, she will take it to the next level. Lie about being raped, act possessed, or pretend that she is being followed. It’s not fair to associate her with people who share the same Moon as her but that was y’all’s representation in my life. She was erratic so it’s difficult to see where her Moon was in effect and where she was just off. I’ll give them a 1/10, would not recommend until proven otherwise.

🍩Cancer Moon🍩

The first that comes to my mind is Taylor Swift and to me she is the ultimate Cancer Moon. It juat makes sense how fast she takes it to the next level with people. Whether getting serious quickly with someone or throwing down and feuding. She just always at a 100. Personally, I never got close with someone who has this placement, maybe it’s because I am a Capricorn Moon myself, but I would say the ones that I have met were nice. I’ll give them a 5/10

🍩Leo Moon🍩

I only had one best friend with this placement but the people I have met with this Moon I still remember. They all had one thing in common and that was being emotionally traumatized and have lost one parent. My best friend was super loyal, very confident in what they believed in and represented, were always there for me and had an amazing ability in motivating others. But they were also super prideful and there’s no coming back with them. Fight once and it’s over. (Yes I am looking at you Jonnie). One of the other people was with me in uni and always had the to urge won up me and my friend. He had scars all over and he doesn’t remember how he got them. But he was super proud of himself and his home country, which I respect and admire. I’ll give them a 6/10

🍩Virgo Moon🍩

I know two people with this placement, my mom and a professor at uni, and oh boy it makes sense that they’re a Virgo Moon. Me and my mom are too alike that we clash strongly at times. She thinks she can do it better and I think I can do it better and we just have like a competition on who done it better basically. From cooking, to how you light the stove, to how you put on clothes, to how you lay down on bed. Both my mom and my professor are super critical and precise, althogh my professor is a double Virgo (Sun and Moon) so she will go even further. They have to do everything as it arises and act like there’s no time and everything is about to go wrong. Like damn sis chill the fuck out for a sec and this is coming from a Cap moon so you know it’s bad. But I really like Virgo Moon, even though people might hate such a personality but I can relate to them in some ways. I’ll give them 7/10

🍩Libra Moon🍩

My only online friend that I talk to all the time got this Moon. Other than her I met only two people and they were something. Okay so for my friend, because I never actually have seen her physically with my own eyes I can’t say how she acts all the time, but she is one of the best listeners I had in my life. She likes to hear me ramble for an hour about a dumb encounter that lasted a second, talking about astrology and some nerdy things and then not so nerdy things. I believe that it’s a Libra Moon quality to be emotionally versatile and attentive. I think because she is a Leo dominant she acts much fiery and fiercely than a Libra would. As for the other people I just thought they were fake. One acted as a friend but then would just disappear so I was over it quickly and the other was super passive and pretentious that I think she shits out plastic. All in all I think it’s a great Moon. I’ll give them a 7/10

🍩Scorpio Moon🍩

One of the hardest Moons I ever delt with but I find that I love them too. My oldest sister had this Moon and she is such a mystery. Because I am a Taurus Sun, it is only natural for me to have a hard time with a Scorpio Moon. Even though she is an extrovert, she rarely talks about herself and her feelings, you will never catch her slipping or show vulnerability. I can see how difficult it may be for her being a Cancer with a Scorpio Moon and have Gemini dominance. But she’s a bitch at heart and I am cool with it. I’ll give them 5/10 cause I am not a big fan of paradoxical people

🍩Sagittarius Moon🍩

A moon that I always babysat. I had two best friends with this Moon and if I was born a second earlier, it would mine too. I don’t know if it’s because of my Gemini Venus or my 0 degree Capricorn Moon but I love Sagittarius Moons. I was fortunate to see some of their weaknesses and for them to trust me enough to be vulnerable. But boy do they get themselves into the dumbest situation because they wanted to see what would happen. I had to babysit them and help them do everything like shopping, cooking, cleaning, assembling furniture, be their body guard when buying weed. (Shhhh it’s a secret). They’re in many ways immature cause they run from things and everytime you try to be real with them, they say “stop being negative”. I’ll give them a 9/10

🍩Capricorn Moon🍩

The grande dame of the Moon signs, sitting at it’s opposite planet. I have met many Cap Moons and honestly we are bitches 😂. The energy of sitting next to a Capricorn Moon is too fucking much like I never knew it’s like that. I noticed the way they stare, talk, walk and sit can be so aggressive and intimidating. I see why people might label us as bullies, cause the energy is definitely there and I myself was such a cunt (still a little but I am more aware of myself now) that I get where both are coming from. Life as a Capricorn Moon is emotionally flat. If wasn’t for my other placements you will never see me even flinch. I think we just take everything and let it process in our head before we let it into our hearts. So to me, we’re not mean, we just don’t see how something might be hurtful. But also that tone and that blank face, goddam! That’s why I try to smile cause bitch no, I didn’t know I was walking with a death stare this whole time. Anyways, I will give us 10/10 cause I am self appreciative like that 😂✌️

🍩Aquarius Moon🍩

I have always tried to understand Aquarius Moon and it was only a month ago that I have realized they themselves are not sure of who they’re. I had one best friend with this placement and three cousins (all siblings). First, my cousins are super competitive with each other on who gets to do what and if it happens that they’re similar in something they will get pissed. The person that was my best friend was like that as well. Only he would drop a an entire hobby, interest, something close to his heart, shit even a personality trait. I find them to be constantly changing and trying, so they shift between one end of extreme to the other until they center themselves. I’ll give them a 4/10

🍩Pisces Moon🍩

Now let’s talk about a depressing placement, in my opinion of course 😅. I don’t know if it’s the influence of Neptune on the Moon or is it the just the demeanor of Pisces, but good god girl get a grip (they call this the five G’s). My youngest sister is a Pisces Moon, and as creative as she is, she is pessimistic and overly cynical. I mean I am all for being critical and real but looking at everything with jacked up black sprayed glasses is just too much for me. Other than my sister I don’t know any Pisces Moon very well but I had a few acquaintances. I noticed that they talked about a specific thing and that’s it. I have found them to be amazing at drawing, painting and have an incredible artistic sense. At times twisted and dark, but I love the art that comes with it. I’ll give them a 5/10

Here’s the tea. It’s Pisces season so remember I am sensitive right now, and also it’s my life and I wish I met someone as amazing as you might think you’re. (Maybe that was a little too aggressive)

Okay love you ❤️

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Tiny Treasures | JJK x Reader | 💜🐾(☁️)🔞

Commission for @eyerin !! Thank you sm for that request! 💖

Want to request too? Take a look at my ko-fi then! (ko-fi.com/bonnykookoo)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU, non-idol!AU, Web-Designer!Jungkook, bunny hybrid!Reader, featuring Taehyung: your local scatterbrain (TM)

Warnings: absolute fluff, it’s cotton candy I swear, so soft, so sweet, oh lord, reader is shy and sweet, Jungkook is whipped, he’s so sweet with her ugh, this is now my official emotional support Koo, some mentions of past abuse/neglect, did I mention that kook is whipped, because his heart go boom boom whenever reader so much as BREATHES, strength kink (hint), your local praise and size kink say hi as well, no smut would you believe it, possibly future parts? I dont know I just love them okay

Summary: Jungkook was a hopeless romantic believing in love at first sight- and then there was you, a bunny experiencing the tiny treasures of life for the first time. Together, with him.

It's busy in Jungkooks apartment- something thats unusual, considering that technically, the young man lives alone, doesn't really fuck around, and works at home as well ever since he took on the job as a web-designer. There was no reason to cause such an amount of stress in his home- other than the simple fact of his best friend currently pacing around, steps so fast and hard that Jungkook scared his flooring would soon melt underneath the older ones shoes he didn't take off in a rush. There were bags on his couch, bags on his counter, and a backpack somewhere in his living room- all because of;

"Okay so, she's okay with eating almost everything BUT!" Taehyung holds his finger up as if he's lecturing a child in front of him- which he's not, Jungkook is a full grown adult at this point, and looks at him unimpressed with furrowed brows as his older friend lists up things he needs to keep in mind for the hybrid he's looking after for the day. "Please make sure she's hydrated, she tends to forget to drink during the day. If she does and gets a headache there's medication in the bag that I've put on the couch- you've seen it right? Should I show you again?" He stresses, and Jungkook holds his friend's shoulders for a moment.

"Can you like, breathe for a moment please?" He says, and Taehyung nods, following the instructions for a moment before Jungkook continues. "Okay great. Now that you're not hyperventilating anymore I can tell you that yes, I've seen the bag-" He says, pointing towards the couch that's littered with so many things it seems like he's giving the hybrid up for adoption today instead of just dropping her off until tomorrow. "Second of all, I've taken care of Yoongi before and he's still alive, what's so different? Just because she's a bunny- or was it hare- wait is there a difference..?" Jungkook drawls off, suddenly thinking and not quite remembering if he's ever quite asked himself the difference of these two things. Taehyung however seems offended by that.

"Jungkook, she's a BUNNY, not a hare! That's a HUGE difference!" He whines out, and Jungkook looks at him a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Oh god maybe I shouldn't go, this is a bad idea.." He says, already taking out his phone to cancel the date he has tonight, but jungkook holds the elders friend before he can make that mistake. Taehyung was a busy man, running a hybrid rehabilitation center in Seoul and Daegu- while talking to Busan's department for partnership. He really loves his job- but sometimes he gets too invested in it, just like now. He's finally got a date for himself after years of being alone; but he almost shot the poor woman down when he remembered that you, a newly rescued hybrid was staying at his home- something he never did before. Sure, he had taken over the rehabilitation of hybrids before, but he had never ever taken a case home with him. But after meeting you, seeing you, and knowing what you've been put through, his heart simply couldn't leave you at the shelter- even though he knew that it was probably the best place to be for you. But he had done what he had done now- there was no turning back with you. He couldn't leave you alone yet, so Jungkook had volunteered to look after you for the day and night, until Taehyung would pick you up the next day. The younger one had always looked after Yoongi, a cat hybrid later on adopted by Jung Hoseok, a friend of both of them; so he personally felt good about taking you in.

It was just for a day- what could go wrong?

"Come on, don't you trust me? Or is she like, super aggressive or something?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs. He hasn't told the younger one much about you, believing it was bad karma to talk about others when they weren't present. Yet this time he'd have to make an exception- because Jungkook needed to know at least some things about you and where you came from. Everything else would be unfair.

Taehyung sighed. "She's a category 3, so she's still recovering from her past home. She's just.. super shy and timid, and gets scared pretty easily so, I'm just terrified Jungkook. I know you don't want to cause any harm, but what if something happens and she just falls back? She's come so far these days, you should've seen her when I got her.." He said, and Jungkook looked at him- the eyes of the younger serious, reminding Taehyung that deep inside, he was more than just a schoolfriend. "When she got to me, she didn't even know how to use cutlery Kook. She.." But Jungkook smiled, placing a hand to his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I get it. I'll do my best, okay?" He says. "I promise I'll call you as soon as something's up, okay?" He says, and Taehyung nods. With a small wave he leaves the apartment to pick you up from the shelter- and Jungkook, in exchange, began to rummage through the plastic bags Taehyung had dumped onto his couch.

He was familiar with hybrids to some degree- he never really had owned one, and neither did his family. He knew that his brother owned a dog hybrid, but he had yet to bring him to family gatherings; Jungkook had never seen the puppy hybrid himself. His parents however said that she was nice, and Jungkook never really had any bad experiences with them. He sometimes visited Taehyung at work and conversed with some of the more chatty hybrids.

He was familiar with caring for them to some degree. As already stated before, he'd looked after 'grumpy-cat' Yoongi a lot back in the days when he was still in the center for rehabilitation. Jungkook knew about their different preferences in food, and their different behaviors. He, sadly, also knew about the mistreatment most of the hybrids went through before getting to the center into Taehyungs and his Staff's care- and he always hated it. The stories he sometimes heard made him sleepless during the night, made him research donation websites just to cleanse his mind for the moment.

But it only ever lasted until the next case would turn up at Taehyung's doorstep.

Quite frankly, Jungkook didn't know what he'd expected. After all, he'd never seen you in person, he simply went after Taehyungs description of you, but what was now standing at his door, was something that erased any thought he may had prior to opening it.

You were so.. delicate? Cute? He's never used the word 'cute' for a person before, because he simply thought aegyo and all of that was something girls put up for a facade of innocence. He hated that with a passion, cringing any time he saw it- yet there was, in his opinion, no other word that described you better. You were just as shy as Taehyung said, yet you forced yourself to bow a little as a greeting, taking a small step back however when Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and opened the door fully to step aside. He threw a smile your way, hoping it could ease your nerves a little- and it seemed to work, because he saw your lips turn a bit upwards into a shy smile.

He felt as if he'd just won a ranked overwatch match against the seoul dynasty.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow ASAP, okay? Are you gonna be fine here?" Taehyung asked you, and you looked over his shoulder- your bright eyes meeting Jungkooks, who was leaning against his kitchen counter, smiling boyishly while waving a little. It made you feel okay; he seemed nice enough, and after all, any friend of Taehyungs was a friend of yours. He'd taught you that. So you nodded, and Taehyung smiled, patting your head for a moment, your ears flopping to the sides before standing upright again after his hand left you. He waved goodbye and seemed a bit reluctant to leave- but you knew that Taehyung was excited for his date. He'd talked about nothing else these past days, and it made you happy to see him so giddy over something.

"So." Jungkook started, his voice fitting him, you thought. He looked fit, and comfortable to you- his oversized sweater probably big enough for you to hide in. Wait- what was that thought?! You averted your eyes immediately, ears shyly drooping backwards as you began to shuffle your fluffy socks on his wooden floor, the laminate suddenly super interesting. "Taehyung said you should have a nice healthy dinner- but I may forgot to buy groceries, so, is it okay for you to tag along?" He asked. "You can choose what you want to eat while we're at it, too." He said, and you perked up at that.

"I can?" You asked, ears slowly moving into a more confident position again, and he smiled at that achievement.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket, before he looked at you. You were staring at something- and as he followed your gaze, he saw your shoes. Simple sneakers in colors that fit your current clothes, but, was he connecting the dots correctly? He didn't want to offend you in case you were simply deep in thought, so he simply waited, slipping on his own shoes, as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

You really were struggling to tie your shoes.

So he simply sat down on the small step that divided his entrance from the rest of his apartment, and tapped the top of his knee. "Come here, I'll help." He said, and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

"I'll- I'll get your pants dirty.." You said worriedly, but Jungkook shook his head again.

"Don't worry about that." He said, and you hesitantly placed your shoe on his knee with just the very tip- something that made him smile a bit before he placed it down properly, tying the laces quickly.

"Sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head yet again as he tied the other.

"It's fine." He simply said, before you both got up, going outside. "Do you, uhm.." He began, nervously picking on the slight fuzz of his skin against his chin before he finished, by holding his hand out. "You know, so you don't, accidentally get lost or something. Taehyung would kill me." He laughed, and you blushed, before hesitantly taking his larger hand, holding it as he walked to the nearby grocery store with you.

Inside, it was busy as usual- but Taehyung typically didn't take you out during these hours, something about you maybe becoming overloaded by sensations and sounds. You've never been to a grocery like this before though- because while yes, it was a lot, Jungkooks hand never left yours even for a second. He calmly explained things you seemed interested in, and his entire presence calmed you down, even though you didn't really know him at all.

But your instincts were telling you that he was a good person; and until now, they had never been wrong.

"So, which one do you like?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you were drifting off a little. He smiled at you, while you were looking at the shelves, pointing towards a pack of ramen. You've never tried it, but you had been interested when you saw them at Taehyungs place once or twice- however, back then you had been too shy to ask if you could maybe try it sometimes. "Hmm.. you sure about this one? It's pretty spicy sweetheart." He said, letting the petname slip as your ear flinched a bit into his direction, eyes widening a bit. Taehyung sometimes called you sweetheart as well- but somehow, in some weird way, it made you feel all tingly inside hearing it from Jungkook. "Uhm.. maybe, I can buy this one, and this chicken flavoured one- you can taste mine, and if you like it, we can switch. Okay?" He explained, and you nodded, not really listening anymore as you looked at him with an almost fascinated expression.

Taehyung had told you he had never truly taken care of a female hybrid, let alone a rehab-case such as you were. But he seemed so nice, so sweet, it was hard to imagine him not owning a hybrid- or being single. While Taehyung had never outright said that Jungkook was, you assumed so by the hints you noticed here and there. No other scent than his in his home, and you also remember Taehyung teasing the younger yesterday over the phone, saying something that at least Taehyung was getting himself some dating action.

For some weird reason, knowing that Jungkook didn't have a partner made you feel nice.

But then you remembered his words. "But- what will you eat if I eat yours?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"We'll simply switch then. I don't mind." He says, placing both packs in the shopping cart as you watched him. Your old home hadn't been too kind to you, yet you still didn't know anything else than the treatment you got back there. It was still new to you how easy going some people were, how much freedom you actually had. You've seen kids on swings last week, and a girl feeding a stray cat in an alleyway. Those were things you've never seen before.

"Okay, now the fun part." He says, and you look up at him, his head nodding towards something specific.

Icecream.

Your eyes widened seeing all the different packages and flavours, making your ears droop a bit in confusion. You were lost; what should you choose? You didn't know any of these except some flavors Taehyung had at his house. Jungkook, already connecting the dots, opens one of the doors. "Do you like fruity things? I personally like mild flavors, like vanilla." He says, picking a box of two separate containers. "How about this one?" He asks, and you nod excitedly.

"Yes please.!" You say, pretty much vibrating on the spot as Jungkook places the box into the cart, making an elderly lady next to the two of you chuckle.

"So sweet. And great manners too!" She says, before a hybrid walks up to her; his bright orange badge showing that the dog hybrid was a service worker. "Take good care of her, young man, yes?" She says, and Jungkook nods, squeezing your hand a little tighter as you both watch the lady getting escorted towards the cashiering section.

Jungkook had honestly never really thought about taking care of his own hybrid. He always worried that his friend's teasing was actually real- that he was too immature to quite take care of another living being except his own. Depp down he knew of course that he was capable of that, but insecurities sometimes still bit at his soul from the inside. He couldn't do much about that- he was a hopeless person in that department; still believing in love at first sight, and that human-hybrid relationships are nothing weird.He secretly loved romantic dramas, read shōjo mangas at the bookstore whenever he was too scared to buy them- afraid of being teased for it. He hated perfumes, enjoyed soft smells and fabrics, and even knew how to braid hair. He may looked like a typical muscle-head; with nothing filling his brain apart from protein powder and the need to work out and survive off of energy drinks and leftover cup noodles, but that wasn't really who he was. He simply liked to take care of himself, nothing more. He didn't work out for anyone but himself.

For some reason he enjoyed taking care of you like this. You were so sweet, so cute, that he couldn't help but already feel a little protective of you- that fact having only little to do with Taehyung. Maybe he simply needed a small push into the right direction to finally experience what it was like to have a hybrid, to test out what it was like to live with one.

But he didn't just want a hybrid, he noticed as he watched you carefully place the items of the shopping cart on the cash register, just like he'd asked you to do-

He wanted you.

He could feel someone staring at him. It was like it was piercing his neck, like laser dots on his skin, and it should freak him out like nothing else if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it couldn't be any other than you. He looked at the pot he was putting water in, the reflection showing your form sneakily watching him from the entrance of the kitchen. He chuckled. "Hm.." He began, dramatically sighing. "I wish there was a certain sweet bunny hybrid here to help me cook.. but I guess she's too busy.." He hummed, as he made sure the water in the pot was enough for one pack, before he turned around, your form now standing a few steps behind him. "Oh?" He said, acting surprised as you shyly smiled.

"Can I help.?" You asked, and he nodded, patting the counter to which you walked, squeaking cutely as he simply turned you around with gentle hands, lifting you up to sit between the stove on one side, and the sink on the other. You'd somehow come to the conclusion already that he was quite strong- but the short taste you got of his strength made your heart race a little. It was instinctively, really; your kind looked for partners with certain attributes, after all. They were supposed to protect you and your offspring at some point- even though that part made you look at your knees in shame, before Jungkook snapped you out of your thoughts before they could sway.

"Can you open the packages for me?" He asks, and you nod, taking them out of his hands and opening the foil carefully. You take out the still hard noodles before the flavor pack falls out, slapping on the floor as it falls down out of your hand. Jungkook however doesn't scold you- simply picks it up and gives it to you, and you look at him for a moment- watching him for any indication that he's mad. But he's not.

It's as if nothing had happened.

So you put the flavor pack and tiny oil package on top of the noodle blocks, so carefully Jungkook has to force himself not to just simply scream from how concentrated you look doing something so simple. "When the water boils, like, when it bubbles a lot, you can put these packs in, alright?" He says, and you nod, as if he's giving you instructions on how to prepare for war. He can't help himself at that moment, grinning so hard his dimples show as he reaches out to pet your head.

It's a little like Taehyung, but it feels a lot different.

With Taehyung, while you do feel safe and comfortable around him, and it feels nice, it's not at all like Jungkook. The younger one makes your heart race. He makes your pride swell, and your eyes sparkle- it's as if you've been given an award for the greatest achievement ever. You almost whine when he lets go.

So you later on put the packs into the boiling water with so much precision, immediately seeking his approval right after, to which he smiles at you. "Good job, Bunny." He says, and pets your head, absentmindedly moving the palm of his hand from the top of your head to instead cradle your cheek. Its such a soft and gentle touch that you almost go limp- closing your eyes and leaning into it. He only notices that when he looks back from the pots- now turned down a bit to a simmer as to not overcook- and his heart surely bursts in that moment.

You look so.. there's no word in Jungkooks head to properly describe the view he has, that image of you in front of him. He can't help himself- begins to trace his thumb against the soft skin, watching your ears relax and flop down. He can't imagine that someone like you could ever be done harm to; and while he doesn't know much about your past, he's sure it hadn't been pretty. It makes him want to just keep you right here, in his apartment, close to him, where he can make sure no one could ever cause you to be upset.

Both of you are abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by his phone ringing, the device so badly placed that it falls down to the floor after vibrating a few seconds. "Fuck!" He exclaims, picking it up and sighing in relief when it turns out to still be without damage. He takes on the call, and on the other side of the line, is Taehyung. He greets his younger friend, instantly asking him if you're okay- if you've eaten yet, drank anything, if you're homesick- all in one breath, it seems. Jungkook chuckles, simply placing a hand on your knee, thumb again tracing a pattern he's unsure of what its supposed to be. The warmth seeps into your skin through the fabric of your clothing. He smiles at you, and for the first time, maybe because you're feeling so.. smitten with him, you smile back. Not just a shy little lift of your lips, but a full on beaming smile, making his hand reach out to brush along your ear- internally gasping at how soft the fur is. How can something be this soft?! "Taehyung, she's fine. We're making ramen right now, she helped me cook, and afterwards we're gonna have icecream and watch a movie or something." He explains, and Taehyung claps back with something along the lines of 'but don't let her have the spicy stuff, she can't handle that-' but the younger one doesn't listen that much anymore. "Yeah yeah, listen, we're fine. Go get your girl, jesus." He laughs, and Taehyung chuckles as well, hanging up after reminding him to get you to bed at a reasonable time- as if you're a child he's taking care of.

Because that's the thing. You're not a child- and in Jungkooks eyes, you're not a pet. You're so sweet and easily interested in the simplest of things, he can't help but wonder if you had any hobbies. Did you like video games? Or drawing? Were you into books- hell, could you even read? He wanted to know so much more about you than just those tiny breadcrumbs of info he had gotten from Taehyung. He dearly hoped that maybe, maybe you would like to see him again after leaving tomorrow. He really hoped.

And as you ate, shaking your head at Jungkooks spicy ramen after tasting the broth a little from his spoon (which he did make sure to blow on as to not have you burn your tongue, bless his heart), he really did hope.

He really hoped that maybe, you felt just as happy around him as he felt around you.

It seemed that going grocery shopping, cooking, and eating icecream had taken its toll on you. Your eyes were practically falling shut every few seconds, yet you tried to stay awake as much as possible. Jungkook smiled at you, brushing some hair back before he moved your shoulder a bit. "Hey, bunny?" He asked, and you nodded, humming a noise of yes, you heard him. He chuckled. "You'll have to get up baby. I have to prepare the couch for you." Typically, it would be normal to give a guest the bed- if he was being a gentleman. But that was what he was being; because his couch was the most comfortable thing in his entire apartment for that matter. Yet maybe it was the sleep inside your bones making you drowsy, but you shook your head. "Hm?" He asks, and you suddenly move.

You shuffle around, suddenly hugging him tightly, head hidden in his chest as you rub your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt for a moment. "Don't wanna." You complain, and he swears he dies and gets ressurected all at once seven times in total at your next words. "Wanna sleep with 'koo." You drawl, and he knows he should not let you. You're not thinking clearly- but he can't deny you anything when you're like this, it seems. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, tightly, with no chance of escape.

So he gently picks you up after turning off the TV, bringing you to his bedroom, where he puts you on the bed, your tired form struggling to stay seated. He picks out a shirt of his to wear, and a pair of your shorts out of your backpack Taehyung has left for you. "Sweetheart, can you change for me?" He asks, and you simply let yourself playfully fall ontop of his mattress, making him sigh. You're going to be the death of me. "Oh really now?" He says, before he crawls over you, with the intention to tickle you a little awake- but he stops in his tracks. In fact, time seems to stop as well, as your eyes stare at him, so big and full of wonder he almost can't stop himself from looking at your lips.

But its you who shyly- and so quickly he almost doesnt catch it- pecks his lips before sneakily slipping out his grasp, taking your clothes with you into the bathroom, leaving him on the bed. He sits down, touching his lips for a second, absolutely unsure if he'd just experienced this, or if he had just had a fever dream of some sorts.

It's only when he notices you don't emerge from the bathroom, that he moves. He gently knocks at the wooden door, asking for you, but you don't answer. "I'm gonna open the door, okay?" He says, and does so seconds after, spotting you sitting on the tiled floor- now dressed in his sweater and your shorts, ready for bed. He notices however how you're hiding in the sweater- the hood covering your ears, while your hands shield your face. "Whats wrong?" He asks as he squats down in front of you, his hands gently pulling yours away from your face. You're not crying, thank god, but the look on your face speaks entire novels about how embarrassed you feel.

"M'sorry." You say, and pout, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be." He simply answers, helping you stand up after a moment. "Why do you feel bad?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"I just.." You start, but suddenly your eyes grow glossy. "I miss Taehyung-" You say, and Jungkook's heart drops for a moment. "-but I also don't wanna go home tomorrow." You finish, and Jungkook blinks twice, before he looks at you, confused. You didn't want to leave? Him? "I.. no, it's fi-"

"Say it." He demands- its not harsh, its not even loud, its almost just a whisper, tuneless words pressed out in a breath of air. "Don't keep it in- say it." He prompts you, and you swallow, not looking at him.

"I wanna stay with you." You say.

And he swears, the pain in his heart was the sweetest he'd ever felt.

The next day, after breakfast, Jungkook and you sit on his living room floor, him teaching you how to build a rubber powered plane- the one's he used to make as a kid. He'd kept a kit in his apartment back when he moved out of his family home but never got around to really use it. It was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy the things you had missed out on in your life. He loved the way you so intensely watching his every move as he showed you how to put the pieces together. "And that's gonna fly?" You ask curiously, leaning over a bit as to get a better look at it.

"Hmhm." He says, holding it up, before giving it to you. "Here, turn this part until you can't anymore." He says, and you start twisting it for a while. "Don't worry, you can't break it." He says when you hesitate a little. He highly doubts you'll be able to snap the rubber band. "Tight?" He asks, checking, before he nods, standing up. "Lets go fly it outside!" He says, opening the glass door to the small backyard of his apartment. "And- Go!" he says, and you throw it just how he showed you minutes prior; letting it fly for a good moment before it landed.

"It flew!" You exclaimed happily, and he laughed as well, congratulating you as if you had just won a competition. He held you tightly to his body for a moment after you had jumped into his arms- and that was how you just stood there for a moment, simply existing, holding each other. For you, this was a moment of realizing that no, you're not alone. You're not useless, you're not just a pet, you're not just existing for someone's enjoyment. You had this one person at your side now, someone you could count on, someone to make you feel safe. And for him? Weirdly enough, he felt like the male lead of a romantic drama show- finally getting the happy ending he always craved in his life. He never knew what exactly he always wanted from his time here on earth. Was it success? Was it money? A big apartment, a nice home, a lot of friends? No, it was building a blanket fort with you in his living room. It was going to the grocery store with you, protecting you from big dogs that scared you, or holding you during the night. Every cheesy romantic thing he could imagine, now always featured you in his head; and it just, fit. It fit perfectly.

You fit into his life just perfectly.

It's later that day when Taehyung picks you up that he realizes that yes, he's positively in love with you. Because how can he not fall in love with those glistening eyes, hand waving goodbye for now because of course he can't just keep you like he wants to. There's paperwork involved, and your things need to be moved to his place- all of that needing to wait for social services to check his home, so that they can make sure he's really the right fit for you. It's then that he finally lets everything sink in, finally lets him think about what's going to happen, whats going to change.

And for the first time, he couldn't wait for it. He couldn't wait for things to change.

Jungkook baked you a small cake for your welcoming into his home- finally yours as well, as you hug Taehyung for the last time, the older friend waving before the door closes, Jungkooks arms instantly pulling your back into his chest. He leans his head down, kissing your shoulder, before he runs his sensitive lips over the so unbelievably soft fur of your ears. Three weeks had passed, yet to him it had felt like an entire year. Jungkook was sometimes impatient, and waiting had been pure torture for him. So now, as he was finally able to hold you again, he felt his entire stress vaporize into nothingness.

You giggled, before turning around, hugging him fully, and rubbing your face into his sweater, as if to get your scent onto him. Which was exactly your plan- after all, he was your human now, officially yours, so everyone should know that. The rumble in his chest that was his chuckle made you smile widely, grinning as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

Oh may god have mercy on his soul!

He leaned downwards, finally capturing your lips with his, the first real long kiss to be shared between the two of you. Both of you melted into the sweet gesture, your ears falling down lazily as he showered you in affection; kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and your lips again. He continued until the corners of your eyes gathered tears from laughing so much.

This was how you were supposed to be. You were never supposed to cry because you were upset-

the only tears you should ever have to shed, should be tears of happiness.

(c) Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not translate, re-post or claim as your own. Thank you for reading- and please stay happy and healthy.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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motherfuckingbrad · 3 years ago

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I’m pretty sure David took psychology or family psychology or something as a minor to his business degree in uni because he projects his childhood trauma into Ian and Poppy and kinda psychoanalyses others (most of it being bullshhht) kinda reminds me of Britta “as a licensed psychology major” Perry

Also def took a bunch of philosophy/sociology courses because 🌟 brene brown 🌟

ok YES DAVID AND BRITTA WOULD BE BFFS IM CALLING IT

omg now i NEED a fic where the entire mq gang meets the entire community gang because could you IMAGINE like

britta and david just psychoanalyze each other but neither is rlly listening to what the other says because they’re too focused on their own epiphanies so they just go on and on without ever actually coming to any conclusions and both feeling super satisfied about themselves

and troy and poppy would get along so well because they’re both immature as anything so they’d just play video games and eat candy in the basement and every once and a while troy would get mad that poppy was winning and ask how she knew so much and poppy would say “u know i made this entire game right?” and then troy would fangirl so hard because omfg she MADE THE GAME and can she make him an inspector spacetime game to play w abed or a kickpuncher game to beat jeff at or a levar burton reading rainbow game just for himself or-

and then obv jeff and ian would hang out but both would be too cool to actually get to know the other so they’d stand around all day trying to prove that they’re better than the other one and literally no one would give a single shit as they try to prove who’s taller than who and who wears sunglasses better or has better abs or has worse father trauma

(the dean would just follow them around and feed into it, telling each of them that the other still thinks they’re better because it means they’ll take their shirts off or try harder to convince the dean they’re better <3 and he’s never seen jeff jealous and vying for his attention before)

and then shirley would go hang out with sue because she would want a tour of the place and sue seems very nice but also has some sweetly worded insults/gossip about everyone in the office that shirley loves to hear and shirley would fill her in on all the drama with her study group and somehow michelle would eventually also be there and shirley and michelle and sue can all trade advice/experience on what it’s like to be a hardworking woman in business

and cw and pierce can be racist and out of touch together

and annie would float around because at first dana and rachel want to show her around and get to know her but annie catches sight of brad (mean official man in some position of authority so kind of her type) and flirts w him, which then leads jo to yell “BACK OFF HE HAS NO NEED FOR GOODY-TWO-SHOES GIRLS, HES A SHARK HE WILL RIP YOUR PERFECT LIP GLOSSED FACE APART” and then annie spends the rest of the afternoon showing jo how she can be a strong woman without yelling and threatening everyone all the time

abed films everything because it’s a crossover episode what else is he supposed to do

anyway i’m literally obsessed with this idea now thank you op i love you

#lots of love for the asks tonight #i literally love everyone who sends them though because i have so many thoughts and you guys are so CREATIVE #also i am 100% a lesbiannie and gaybrad truther so i know the her being into him thing doesn’t 100% make sense #but she is attracted to power #and comphet exists #and brad puts up w it because honestly these are just pathetic people from a pathetic community college he’ll indulge them to appease david #but he still has work to do #and he doesn’t know why the familiar looking kid with the camera keeps following him around #and getting far away shots of him smiling fondly when his friends sorry coworkers have a good time with these people #<3 #community #mythic quest #community x mythic quest crossover #actually in love with this concept now #ok long ass tags sorry #also i included pierce purely for the cw thing and for the record i like cw more than pierce but i’m not crazy abt him either tbh #also it’s just the original seven and the dean sorry frankie

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notaninterest · 4 years ago

Text

Carnal *1* (A Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: Hello! My username says notaninterest, but feel free to call me Cece.

I'm going to be making this into a story! So I do hope you stick around for the other parts to come. This is also posted on my Wattpad if you're interested. I don't know how many chapters this is going to be but it shouldn't be too long. We'll see :)

I update weekly to biweekly depending on how my life pans out. I will let you know when you should expect the next chapter.

I think I made some mistakes with my writing about Nen so I hope that's okay. I'm not going to be completely accurate in my writing. I hope you understand.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

warnings: heavy sexual themes, smut, Hisoka being fucking hawt

The smell is the same as any other strip club. These grimy places usually never interested him, but tonight is different. It is not the same as the others. He urges for something, something not related to his bloodlust. Yes...He requires a woman. And places like these were full of them. He smiles to himself whilst taking a sip of his alcohol. Nevermind the crowd of inebriated men and some women. His yellow eyes are trained on the dancers, three different ones each accompanying their own respective poles. One of them is a brunette with an aline bob, her hands above her head wrapped around the pole and her legs crossed over the pole with her back facing towards it. She held a look of lust while she arched her back, exposing her full bare breasts further to the crowd as she spun down the pole slowly. While she played the part, her aura certainly didn't feel the part. Hisoka could sense the underlying hatred and disgust this girl has for her job and while she is good at it, she clearly doesn't enjoy it. 'Too boring. Easily manipulated. Not enough fun.' He decides, switching his gaze over to the second girl. This one has long, blue hair reaching to her waist. She confidently swirls upside on the pole, grinding against it upside down. As she reaches down lower, she does the splits midair, manipulating her lower body to face the crowd of horny alcoholics, giving them a peek as to what's beneath the lingerie. A man in the mass of bodies spits out his beer in surprise, quickly throwing money at the dancer. Hisoka rolls his eyes. It's clear as day that she's just a run of the mill slut, perfect for this specific area of expertise. She's clearly in it for it all. Sex, money, and exhibitionism. She doesn't care who watches her or who touches her. She enjoys it all the same. While sensitivity to touch was always a plus, he prefers at least some resistance to his advances. He likes 'em feisty.

The third dancer however...bingo. Her [h/c] hair is what first draws him to her significantly more than the others. The second? Well, he can't sense her aura. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he can't feel it at all. She must be using Zetsu to conceal herself from any Nen users. Little does she know that any other other highly experienced Nen users like himself can easily spot through her deception from just looking at her. Another smile upturns his lips. She will certainly entertain him for the night. He continues to watch her, noting the way her [e/c] eyes sparkle with excitement, nervousness, and some other emotions he can't place. This placates his curiosity more. "Oi, bartender." He calls one of the employees, who walks over while cleaning a glass. "What's the name of that third dancer, the one right over there?" Hisoka asks, pointing over to the mysterious woman. "Well that'd be [Y/N], the most graceful of them all." The bartender gushes, clearly having it out for the lady. "Hmm...'most graceful' you say..." He'd be the test of that one. He continues to stalk you out from the bar, sipping on his alcohol slowly. He needn't be drunk for this experience. No...He's going to enjoy this one to satisfy his more carnal cravings for a longer time. He watches you closely. You were wearing very little, definitely giving the appearance of confidence in your body. That scores high in the point system in Hisoka's head. You were currently positioned so the front of your body faced the pole, your backside facing the crowd. You bent over at the waist, grabbing the pole in front of you and bending to a 90-degree angle. Your toned ass is on clear view to the people in front of you and you slowly rotate your hips, imitating a sexual act in midair. Or, at least trying to. ‘Mmm...she's perfect.’ Hisoka dreams of the acts he'll perform on you, becoming more excited by the second. He continues to watch you, head in his left hand, his drink in the other. As soon as you finish undulating your hips, you slide up against the pole, grinding your pussy against the cold metal. A gasp leaves your lips, one that should be inaudible considering the noise and the atmosphere, but it's a noise Hisoka can hear as clear as day. It's clear that from the pitch in this noise and the way you move your body that you're not experienced in this area, which leaves him to wonder why you chose it. Maybe for the money? No...he doubted that. You didn't lurch your body around the pole as deliberately as the first dancer. There was a secret to your work that he doesn't know of. It becomes painfully more clear that you aren't experienced in any pole work at all, judging by how clumsily you slither up the pole. Your eyes struggle to convey the desire to practically fuck the pole and instead are glazed over in what seems to be a sort of nervousness. To any other everyday individual, you'd look like a professional, maybe graceful as others say. Yet, to Hisoka, he can see right through your dancing façade. Why are you doing this...he must sate his ever-growing curiosity.

As the number finishes and the dancers walk offstage, Hisoka approaches the man responsible for handing out lap dances and the like, going to put his request in nice and early. "Eh?! You request a room for the rest of the night?! S-Sir I'm afraid-" Hisoka holds up a heavy, full bag. "This here is enough jenny to last you a lifetime and even your grandkids if you spend it wisely." He smiles as he hands the packed bag over, watching as the man's eyes light up in greed. He needs this money. And Hisoka can tell. "I'm sure we can make something work. This man here will guide you to your room." The greedy man shoos over a hefty bulk of a guy, who promptly tells Hisoka to follow him. Hisoka smirks, dropping the bag of money on the slimy man's desk. "Very well. Thank you." He thanks, following the brawny dude to his assigned room.

The large man guides the magician to the room furthest down the long hallway. As Hisoka opens it, he notices it to be some sort of suite. He chuckles to himself. The other rooms were smaller. Money sure did get you good things. The strong guard before him tells him that the dancer he requested will be with him shortly before leaving, giving Hisoka some time to himself before you arrived. He investigates the big room for the time being, meticulously looking over things. There was the obvious king-sized bed, massive enough for two bodies. There's a nightstand full of condoms and lube. It has a lamp with a red shade on top of it, which Hisoka turns on. The room fills with an additional red light, making him smile. Yes...mood lighting. He's looking through the dresser across the bed when the door swings open, an angry-looking woman greeting him. He smiles at her, arms crossed behind his back. "Hello, [Y/N]-" "I don't allow any clients to touch me, much less have me for 12 hours straight!" You interrupt as you fume, glaring at the magician before you. "Must be your lucky night then." Hisoka chuckles, running his entrancing eyes over your body. Your minimal clothing was enticing to say the least, easily getting him worked up. But the air of mystery swarming around you fuels his horniness more. He needs to find out what exactly you are up to. The door suddenly closes firmly behind you, clicking locked behind the woman. You panic, trying to open the locked door handle. As predicted, it doesn't budge. "I think what you mean by not allowing anyone to touch you, you also mean you haven't even touched yourself?" Hisoka asks, beginning to walk over to you with his hands still behind his back. Your aura suddenly springs to life, surrounding your body in an instant. Hisoka smirks, continuing his approach. "St-Stand back, clown! I will not hesitate to send you flying!" You stamper, projecting your Nen in an offensive manner. "Hm..." Hisoka ponders, stopping inches away from you.

You're strong, but not nearly as strong as he is. He wonders how long you've been practicing. Must've been a few years now. You place yourself in a defensive stance, one arm angled up at a 90-degree angle and the other positioned a little below that one in the same stance, legs spread apart with one a little behind the other. Ah, yes. Every stereotypical position most fighters took when looking to fight. It looks silly with what you're wearing. And the look on your face was so hilariously serious. That's why Hisoka couldn't stop himself from laughing. He seriously tried to contain it, but the silliness of your posture combined with your facial expression absolutely cracked him up. This reaction serves to royally piss off the woman in front of him. "What?! What's so funny?!" You snap at him, clenching your hands into fists. He laughs himself to literal tears, holding his stomach with one clawed hand. "It's just...Your Nen compares next to nothing against mine, but your effort is quite adorable." The Transmuter purrs, wiping his cheek and taking a step closer to you. You look worried, taking a step away from the man. He responds by simply taking a step closer. "Wh-What do you want from me, f-freak?" You stutter nervously, finding yourself being backed into a corner. "Why, you of course." The magician licks his lips to emphasize his statement. A blush crosses your [s/c] cheeks, your eyes gleaming with fear. The look is so utterly delicious to him.

He chuckles, continuing to walk towards you. You back up until your back is literally against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go expect towards the creepy man. You breathe shakily, making your fear of him clear. "Well, let's get started...[Y/N]." Hisoka smiles, placing his hand next to your head and leaning down to touch noses with you. It's clear his height intimidates you. You swallow and swing, missing your Nen-powered punch by a longshot. He dodges, letting the attack wisp by his right star-drawn cheek. Hisoka giggles at your attempt, grabbing your outstretched hand with his free one and pinning it against the wall you were up against. You look totally helpless, fuelling his desire more. "Oh-ho-ho, trying to hit me are you now? Your attempt turns me on." He teases, fully smiling at your clear look of panic. His eyes narrow as your Nen powers up, sensing that you're up to something. He uses Gyo, centering his Ren in his eyes and watching your aura, watching as it enhances to your hidden fist behind you and to your left leg. So you're an Enhancer, hm? You were going to try to bait him with a fake punch before actually hitting him with your left leg? Okay. He feigns as if he doesn't suspect anything, allowing you to throw your fist at him before pulling back, jumping up and predictably swinging your leg at the left side of his teardrop-stained cheek. He allows the attack to land on him, his head snapping to the side with a frightening speed. Your eyes light up victoriously, but they soon dim to horror as he turns his scuffed up face back to look down at you with a smug smirk. "Any normal person would have flown away with that attack, so I must say I'm impressed. Yet, I'm not a normal man if you can't already tell. Your attacks will provide you with no protection if I haven't already predicted this. It's cute that you think you have an evenly-scored battleground with me." Hisoka chuckles, pinning you against the wall with both of your hands restrained by his at this point.

Your expressive eyes give away your anxiety of the situation, but your face remains hard with determination. The look reminds him of a certain 12-year old boy. This stirs his lust for you up further. He licks at his pale lips seductively, yellow eyes glowing into your own [e/c] ones. Your cold glare sends a spike of pleasure right to his hardened dick. He smiles wider if possible. It's becoming increasingly clear that you have no chance against him and he finds this power over you intoxicating, delicious even. "I have a question for you, [Y/N]. Sate my curiosity if you will." The clown husks, putting his mouth right next to your right ear. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of your face and you gulp nervously. "Shoot." Your icy voice fills his ears, and he gives a simple, "Hmm." at your compliance. You were going to be so much fun to break. He really chose the right contender to satisfy his needs. He snickers into your ear, his hot breath hitting the shell of it. It causes you to barely shiver. It was almost imperceptible, but not to perceptive Hisoka. He grins with this discovery, deciding not to voice it. You would soon find your body betraying you. "Pray tell what you're doing in a place like this? We both know you're not qualified for sex work, so what really brings you here, [Y/N]?" Hisoka's flirtatious voice whispers against your flesh. You noticeably tense up at the question, your hands forming into fists. Your wrists flex in his grasp. He seems to have hit a sore spot. You don't respond immediately. This moves Hisoka to press his body up against yours. Your almost completely exposed chest rubs up against his completely covered one and you gasp at his movements, clearly not expecting them. "Mmm your body feels delightful up against me dear~ Now answer the question." He lustfully whispers in your ear. You seem frozen in place, eyes wide with surprise. He decides he quite likes that expression, ingraining it into his memory. You quickly catch yourself, squirming against his body. "Let m-me go!" You stutter. Your futile attempts only rub him in all the right ways and he moans deeply, the noise hitting your right ear loudly. You gasp, your cheeks reddening with...desire? You freeze up again. He chuckles. "You feel amazing rubbing up against me like that~ Now...are you going to answer or am I going to force it out of you?~" He mumbles sensually, rubbing his lips against the flesh of your ear. You lick your lips to moisten them, your breathing correcting itself quickly.

"I'm here to collect a bounty." You simply state, watching his pale face out of the corner of your right eye. He laughs. "Liar." He growls into your ear, his hands tightening on your wrists before he throws you behind him. He listens as your delectable body bounces on the massive mattress before he turns around, predatory eyes focusing on your scared ones as you sit up on the bed. "That's the truth-" "Incorrect. I'm simply calling you out on your bullshit." Hisoka grins, beginning to approach the bed with obvious sexual intentions. You back away to the headboard of the bed, your back pressing against the splintering wood. He crawls onto the king-sized cot, stopping as soon as he looms on top of you. The look in his eyes is hungry as he looks down your body once again. He loves the position you're in. Utterly helpless. He places his hands beneath your arms, leaning down so that he's touching noses with you again. "Answer the question. Truthfully this time." He adds, smiling deviously in your flustered face. Your mouth remains shut. That's fine. It's well past time for him to immerse himself in your beautiful body. He reaches underneath you, carefully manipulating his clawed hand to the string of your toppiece. He unties it, the flimsy material of the lingerie falling away from your breasts almost instantly. You puff out a noise of embarrassment, your hands quickly coming to aid in hiding your tits from him. The magician quickly evades this method however, encircling both your wrists in his hands again and pinning them next to your head. He takes a long look at your perfect bust, practically drooling at the sight of them. He truly scored with this catch. He smiles, making eye contact with you again. He does not hide his lust from you this time. "Fine.~ I suppose I'll have to try a different method to coax an answer out of you." He punctuates this by licking his lips, moving his face over your bosom. Your eyes watch, curious as to what he'll do. You look nervous and Hisoka couldn't hold back his smirk. The nervousness only virgins hold. This'll be one hell of a lay. He almost couldn't contain his excitement.

He sticks out his tongue, running it over your left nipple before popping it into his mouth. He gives an experimental suck and watches as your body jolts beneath him. A noise akin to pleasure leaves your throat and you look embarrassed at this, closing your eyes. His smile widens and he continues to suck on your nipple, running his tongue over it at the same time. He releases your right hand when he's sure you won't move, using his free hand to massage your other boob. He kneads the flesh in his palm, squeezing the whole thing harshly. Your back arches off the bed and a groan leaves your lips, your hands squeezing as you squirm beneath him. Beautiful. The way you respond to him. You must be sensitive. He watches your face with his observate eyes, watching as your face relaxes into a sort of pleasured expression. Perfect. He pops your breast out of his mouth, replacing it with his other hand. He continues his ministrations for a few quiet moments, listening as you release more pleased noises. This heats up his body more and as a result, his own face flushes up with his desire. "So [Y/N].~ You ready to spill the beans?" Hisoka asks, squeezing both of your tits rather roughly. You pant, opening your defiant eyes to glare at him. "Never." You huff, shivering beneath him. He chuckles. "Shame.~" He continues to fondle you, this time kissing and dragging his tongue against your stomach. Your muscles tense and untense and a full fledged moan dares to leave your mouth. Sensitive you are indeed. This causes Hisoka himself to shiver, your moan music to his ears. He drags his tongue up your stomach, in between the valley of your boobs and up to your neck, where he centers his attack. He laves his tongue in the area, kissing it too. Your moans double in volume and he smiles to himself. "Dare to share, [Y/N]~?" He huskily whispers, licking up to your earlobe and nibbling it. “Ahn- N-No." You pant, trying to remain as stoic as before. You were for sure a challenge...and Hisoka loves challenges. Chuckling, he bites at the skin of your neck, enjoying your flinch in response. "Fine. Be that way." He responds, returning his attention to your tits. He massages the flesh in his clawed hands, tweaking the nipples at the same time. He pulls them, making your back arch to follow them. He leans down to your face, running his nose against your cheek before kissing it. He moves his face towards your left ear, breathing hotly against it. You freeze up before shivering in response. "Perhaps I'll have to take more...drastic measures." He whispers into your ear, his right hand releasing its grip on your left boob and hovering over the side of your hip where a tie holds up the bottom piece of your sexy outfit.

He pulls at the measly string, untying it from your hip. It loosens the fabric, yet the triangular material protecting your modesty continues to cover it. This is fine. He unties the other string, the fabric effectively falling slack against your skin. Hisoka releases all touches, focusing on your lower body now. You move to cover your most sensitive bits, but Hisoka simply smacks your hands away with force, moving back to take the covering away from you. As you yelp and rub your hands, he uses his to grab the thong, taking it away from your body. He stares at your pussy in all its glory, licking his lips. "Say...~ all this interrogating has got me famished. You don't mind if I have a little snack, right?~" His seductive voice proclaims, spreading open your thighs and settling himself in between them. Your nervous eyes alight his own dilated ones and he continues his prowl. He inhales your scent deeply, moaning. Yes, you smell absolutely scrumptious! "I will not be asking you questions from here on out. I will be demanding them. So, [Y/N]. Tell me why you're actually here." He almost snarls, his claws digging into the skin of your hips, drawing a small amount of blood. You wince, but remain strong. "No." You respond icily, acting as if you weren't intimidated. It's almost cute, but he can smell your fear. You reek of it. He chuckles. "Alright.~" He immediately dives into your pussy, licking a stripe up to your clit. You gasp, an ungodly pornographic moan leaving your throat. Hisoka groans in response to your taste, licking up what is all of you. His practiced tongue flicks against your clit and your body twists around, full-fledged, unembarrassed moans leaving your mouth as his sucks on your sensitive sex. His thumbs spread your lower lips open and he flattens his tongue, giving another harsh lick all the way up. He sucks on your hole and you keen, arching your back all the way up. "W-wait -AH- I think I'm going to cum!" You yell out those magic words, your hands grabbing at his hair. That was fast. This fuels his goal further and he eats at you with much more fervor. He slurps your pussy, eating up all you have to offer. Your moans grow more high-pitched and before the both of you know it, you're cumming into Hisoka's mouth. He sucks up all the cum you have to offer, unabashedly enjoying all of it. By the end of it, you're a panting and sweating mess, while Hisoka remains fresh. "Wonderful.~" He murmurs dirtily against you, lapping at your pussy again. You flinch, panting up a storm. You release your grip on his hair, moving your hands to wipe sweat off of your forehead. "W-Wait. I'm too sensit- OH!" You exclaim as he sucks on your clit, watching your face closely this time. Your cheeks are the reddest he's ever seen anyone's become and your eyes are dilated with desire, something he secretly hurrahs in his head. You look amazing. He watches your mouth open in a frenzied moan and shivers, continuing his attack on your pussy. As he continues, he watches you unravel before him yet again. The sight is damning to say the least. You were a gorgeous sight to gaze at and he almost couldn't let you cum a second time, getting caught up in his own desire. He begins to rub himself against the bed to ease himself, moaning into your clit. The vibrations make your toes curl and you throw your head back in a scream. He watches your face as you come undone beneath him yet again, marvelling at your orgasmic expression. That's a face he's certainly going to remember forever.

You're different from his other whores, seeing how you aren't an experienced one. Also seeing as he didn't perform these acts on his other playthings. You're...special. To him for now at least. Surely you wouldn't mean anything once he's finished with you, right? He creeps up your body once your grip on his pink hair loosens, throwing off his shirt and undergarments, exposing his ripped physique to you. Your eyes hungrily trail down the eight-pack, coming into contact with the tent in his loose pants. "I will try this one last time. Final chance. Tell me what your purpose is being here, now." His authoritative tone falls on horny ears. You shake your head, expression firm. He smiles. "Very well..." He strips off the rest of his clothing. Your eyes are trained on his hard dick, a look of panic behind them. He smiles and positions himself at your entrance, wrapping his hands on your soft hips. You seem to second guess yourself. "W-Wait--" "Too late, [Y/N]. You can't stop me from taking you now." He huskily interrupts, beginning to push into your tight pussy. You yowl, pushing your hands against his muscled abdomen. His grips tightens on your hips and despite your efforts, his cock continues to push inside of you, rendering you helpless beneath him. You gasp, shakily exhaling. Your weak arms eventually give up, falling to the sides of you in defeat. He enjoys your submission, fueling his lust for you. He pushes himself in all the way with a hard thrust, making you cry out in pain as your virginity is given to him. He sits there for a minute, relishing in his victory and at the tightness of your walls around him.

He shudders, his whole body rocking with it. It was painfully noticeable. It feels amazing to be inside of you. That's a fact he couldn't hide. "Oh [Y/N].~ You...ngh...feel marvelous.~" Hisoka moans heavily, his grip on your hips growing tighter to the point of being painful. You quietly groan beneath him, arching your back as he begins to move. He moves out and in slowly, testing the waters. You squeak, grabbling your death grip on the sheets on the bed, bunching the material up in your fists. What a sexy display. It'd be better if it was on him instead. He encourages you to grab his back by lowering his chest to touch yours, putting his face next to yours. He effectively covers your body with his own. You get the gist of what he's trying to do, raking your nails against his back as you grab at it. He shudders at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin and in response, thrusts into your tight pussy roughly. You yelp at the new sensation, throwing your head back as the pleasure surges through you. Hisoka treasures your expression of newfound enjoyment, really relishing in being the cause of it. He nips at your ear, groaning deeply when it causes your inner walls to convulse around him more. He'll use that knowledge at a later time. For now, he hotly exhales against your flesh, making you shiver against him. He sets out a slow and punishing rhythm, slowly pulling out before forcefully shoving himself back in. You cry out each time his hips meet yours, tears forming at the edge of your eyes from the intensity of his fucking. Hisoka simply smiles, deciding to speed things up a bit. He quickens his pace, smacking against your hips more frequently now. "How's it feel, [Y/N]? Tell me - mm - how my cock feels inside of you." He grunts, sitting up to gauge your reaction. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at his dirty talk and Hisoka stops, almost cumming from the expression alone. He pants, pausing for only a moment. He awaits your response while he recovers, watching as your eyes return, your dilated [e/c] eyes looking into his lustful yellow ones. You attempt to roll your hips back onto him, but you fail horribly. You did, however, manage to sink down onto the rest of him, a moan leaving your mouth from feeling so full. Hisoka giggles. "So greedy for my dick~ Tell me how it feels, [Y/N].~" He puts your leg over his shoulder, opening you up more to him. He doesn't move. Not until you choose to respond, that is.

You whine at the lack of friction, glaring up at him with that desireful expression you hold. He smiles. You relent, closing your eyes. "Y-Your cock feels amazing, Hisoka." You admit, gasping and practically screaming as he continues his fucking you from the new position he put you in. Your eyes once again roll to the back of your head from the sheer force that he's pumping into you. You're a sweaty mess while Hisoka remains good as new, the workout hardly giving him any strain. You let out a cry as one of his thumbs connects with your clit, massaging it in time with his thrusts. Hisoka moans as you tighten around him and he continues to push into you, harsher now. Your vocality rings through his ears, heating up his body more if possible. His flushed face grows darker still and he singles in on his primary focus: making you cum again. He breathes heavily, thrusting into you at a now impossibly fast pace. Your moans feed into screams, your eyes closed from the intensity of his fucking you. He continues to finger your clit, focusing on your orgasm. He wasn't even close to his, but he decides that your release is more of a spectacle than his own. He zeroes in on it, listening as your moans reach a higher octave. Then, without warning, you arch your back for the last time, crying out as you reach your peak. Your walls milk him, but he refuses to cum, just watching your face as your orgasm rips through you for the third time. He'd definitely remember that face until he's cut from this world. He pulls out of you, settling on massaging your clit a little longer as you ride out the waves of euphoria. You twitch and moan breathlessly, gasping for air from the come down. Hisoka just watches, enjoying your facial expressions. You were certainly something. He stops touching you when you come down completely, breathing harshly. Your flustered eyes open, looking at his still lust-filled ones.

"I...," You start. Hisoka listens, tilting his head in curiosity. "I was assigned here to find you, Hisoka." You pant, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your eyes are encircled in that hard set determination yet again as you tell him this. "My orders are to dispose of you." You admit, hardening your gaze. Hisoka smiles...and it's not a nice one. "Is that so?" He chuckles, flipping you onto your stomach.

"Tell me more as you sing for me...[Y/N].~ We've still got ten hours left for you to tell me all."

_______

Word count: 5,000+

Next chapter should arrive sometime today on Saturday, May 1st. I’m so sorry for the delay ;-;

#fanfic #hisoka x reader #hisoka smut #hisoka x reader smut #hunter x hunter smut

249 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Accidentally Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 6 | Having a bit too fun with our charming Captain America?

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: As Molly and Chris become friends, Tom becomes jealous and makes a terrible mistake.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

Tom came home carrying an enormous bouquet of lilies and roses he purchased on the way home. He bubbled with anxiety and excitement. His talk with Benedict had done him wonders. Until he opened the door to an empty house. He called out for Molly a few times but got no response. There was also no note. He slumped in a kitchen chair. His phone buzzed.

I’m on my way home. Sorry I didn’t leave a note. Hope you aren’t worried. I promise I’m fine!

Tom smiled at the message. He didn’t know why, but something gnawed at the back of his mind. He scrambled to his feet as he overheard the door opening.

“Tom?” Molly yelled into the house.

“In the kitchen, darling!” He fidgeted with the flowers behind his back. As he stared at the floor, a wide grin grew on his face.

“Molly, I…” His face fell as Evans walked in behind Molly.

“Look who stopped by and took me to lunch!” Molly squeaked.

Chris slung an arm over Molly’s shoulders. Tom’s fist clenched around the flowers behind his back.

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing your girl, Tom.” Chris smirked. “She said you were out to lunch with Benedict.”

“Not at all, Chris.” Tom lied. “I’m glad you could keep my wife company.”

“Pleasure was all mine, pal. She is,” Chris gazed down at Molly with a look that made Tom want to leap across the kitchen counter and strangle Chris. “a pretty special girl.”

“Chris!” Molly smacked his hand. “You are too kind. Thank you for a lovely lunch.” She squeezed his torso.

“And don’t forget about tomorrow. We will find decent margaritas in this city if it kills us.”

“You’re on. But you know I have discerning taste when it comes to my liquor.”

“That makes two of us.”

Molly and Chris giggled. “Let me show you out, Chris.” Tom offered.

Molly smiled over at Tom and noticed his hand behind his back.

“What’s that, darling?”

“What?” Tom’s brows knitted.

“Behind your back.” Molly strolled towards him and peeked around Tom. “Are those for me?”

Tom pulled the flowers out. “They are. I thought you might want them to brighten up the house.”

Molly gasped at the beautiful arrangement. “They are stunning, love.” She wrapped an arm around Tom’s neck and pecked his lips. “Thank you. I love them.”

Tom leaned down for another kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth when Molly sighed.

Chris cleared his throat and hooked his thumb towards the front of the house.

“I’ll just see myself out.”

Molly pulled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tom trailed kisses down her neck, tickling her skin. She giggled as Chris waved and walked away.

“What has gotten into you?” she teased as she pushed Tom back.

“Just selling the relationship. We are newly married.” Tom commented, kissing her cheek.

“Oh.”

Tom’s answer disappointed Molly. Somewhere deep inside, that place she never admits to having Molly wanted Tom to want her for more than just a PR stunt. She wanted him to love her as much as he pretended to. But it seemed clear Tom was content on keeping things professional.

“That is the plan, after all?”

“Yeah.” Molly shook her head. “So how was lunch with Ben?”

“Good. You’re going out with Chris again?” Tom’s heart sank further down as he shelved plans to tell Molly how he felt. Evans ruined that.

“He is staying in town for a few days and with you doing auditions and meetings tomorrow, Chris thought I could use some company.” She went to grab a vase for the flowers.

“I bet he did.” Tom muttered.

“What’s that?” Molly twisted her head around.

“I said how nice of him.”

Molly smiled. “It is. He is so funny too! The stories he tells.”

Tom inhaled sharply. “Think you can pry yourself from the Captain to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Anything for you.” She cupped his cheek. “Now what would you like for dinner tonight?”

“Whatever you would like, love. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Molly marched over to him and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “That is the second time you have said something like that. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Tom pulled back. “I’m fine. There’s no need to fuss.”

Molly pursed her lips. “After you drove me to urgent care, filled my prescriptions, let me sleep in your bed, and took care of my every need for three days, you can bet your sweet ass I’m fussing.” She touched his forehead again. “Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever. Go lie down in the living room and I’ll bring you dinner.”

“But I…”

“Go!” She jabbed a finger at the door. “I will not have you getting sick on my hands.”

Tom held up his hands in defeat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Molly came in with a steaming bowl of a beef stew she whipped up with leftovers in the fridge and on the side some thick slices of a crusty bread she picked up a few days ago. A heavy slash of butter on top. She arranged it on a tray for Tom.

“Arms and knees up.” she commanded. Tom complied, tucking up his knees. Molly set down the tray and then settled into the spot once occupied by Tom’s feet. “Eat up.”

Tom blew onto a spoonful before taking a bite. He moaned as he swallowed. “That is exquisite, Molly. What is it?”

“Leftover stew.” Molly took a bite herself.

“You made this with the leftovers?”

“You learn to get creative with the spice cabinet.”

“Foster care?” Tom asked quietly, teeth crunching through the crust of the bread.

“College. Financial aid only goes so far. I couldn’t let food go to waste. I became famous or rather infamous in the dorm freshman year with what I could with a microwave. A modern witch, they called me.”

“You have certainly bewitched me, darling.” Tom commented without thinking. “With your cooking.” he covered. “You are a genius in that kitchen. I will have to learn some of the recipes before year’s end.”

Molly gazed up at him, pained. He was already talking about when all of this was over. Tom quickly changed the subject.

“Tell more about college. I imagine it was rather different from my experience.” Tom ate another spoonful of stew, warming his insides.

“Where did you matriculate?” Molly teased in a haughty tone.

“Cambridge.”

She let loose a low whistle. “You really are Mr. Fancy Pants.”

“With a degree in Classics.”

Molly giggled. “And I thought a tourism degree was useless.”

“Enough about me. I’m boring. Tell me about you.”

They talked about college, about how hard summers were when the dorms closed and Molly would couch surf while working summer jobs.

“I had amazing friends.” she whispered. “I am forever in their debt.”

Tom reached over and pulled her to his chest. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m not.” She snuggled against him. “Our experiences make us who we are. The good and the bad. I would have preferred an easier life. I would prefer not to freeze every time someone raises their voice, but that’s not me.” she sighed and the tears fell onto Tom’s shirt.

Tom smoothed down Molly’s hair. “I’m sorry to upset you. Let’s talk about happy things.”

“What are those?” she chuckled softly.

“How about this?” He stared down at her tucked under the crook of his arm. “Tell me about some of the craziest things you’ve seen as a bartender in Vegas?”

Molly laughed. “How about the one about the guy who peed on a blackjack table?”

“This I must hear.” Tom chuckled.

Tom woke up on the couch that next morning. Molly’s messy bun tickling his chin.

“Molly…” He groaned as he sat up. “… I have to get up, darling.”

Molly burrowed deeper into Tom’s chest and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her. He kissed her temple. She hummed and sighed. Tom’s stomach clenched.

“Time to wake up. I need to shower.”

She slowly woke and stared at Tom, realizing the compromising position of their bodies. Molly scrambled away, blushing.

“So sorry.” She sat up. “I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

Tom cleared his throat. “I still have time.” Tom sat up and fiddled his hands in his lap. “You could always come with me. We could grab some lunch. You can see all of my ‘hard work’.” Tom gazed at her hopefully.

“I…” Molly pondered the offer. “can’t. I would only be in the way. And I have plans with Chris.”

“Chris, right.” Tom stood abruptly. “We wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

Molly gave a strained smile. “I already committed. But we are still having dinner?”

“Dinner, indeed. I’ll meet you at the restaurant at 6:30 p.m.”

Molly stood and hugged him. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

There was a knock on the door exactly when Chris said he would come by. Molly opened the door to find Chris leaned against the frame in jeans and a henley. A devastating combination.

“Hey babe, I have an Uber and a list of five Mexican restaurants with great promise. Ready to find the perfect margarita?”

“I am.” She stepped out with a smile. Chris slung his arm over her shoulder. Molly leaned in for a bit. Just long enough for a camera to click.

“That first place was awful!” Molly howled in the back of the Uber as they made their way to the next place.

Chris laughed next to her. “I never knew they could make tortillas out of rubber.”

Molly’s phone buzzed. It was Luke. She switched off the phone.

“Anything important?” Chris leaned over to glance at the screen.

“Just Luke. Tom’s publicist. It is probably just something about an upcoming event. I’ll ring him back later.” Molly shrugged before tucking the phone back into her purse. “Now an important question.”

“Which is?”

“Strawberry or Lime?”

“Lime all the way.”

“A purist, I like that.”

Chris burst into laughter.

Tom struggled against his sour disposition through most of his auditions and lunch. It wasn’t until he got to the restaurant for dinner Tom listened to Luke’s voicemail. Which led him to googling himself for the first time in years.

“Fuck!” He hissed louder than he wanted to, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. He forced a smile and gave a small wave.

Molly slipped into the chair. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. I lost track of time and then traffic.”

Tom’s fists clenched. “Having a bit too fun with our charming Captain America?” He spit at her.

Molly blinked at him. “What do you mean by that? I was with Chris. He seems like a nice guy.”

“And you are such a friendly girl.” Tom continued to speak in a clipped tone.

“Tom, what’s wrong?” She reached out for Tom’s hand, but he pulled it back.

“This is what’s wrong.” Tom slid his phone over to her.

Molly scrolled through the pictures with increasing horror. The headlines read: Hiddleston Marriage on the Rocks? Tom’s New Bride Steps Out with Captain America Himself.

“I… I…” Molly sputtered, handing the phone back. Hot tears hit her cheeks.

Tom threw his napkin down. “We’re leaving. Keep a smile on as we leave and when we get home. No need to give the paparazzi more fodder.”

Molly stood in a daze and Tom snatched her elbow roughly to lead her out of the restaurant. As they walked outside, Tom leaned in.

“Wrap your arm around my waist and laugh like I said something funny.”

Molly snaked her arm around him and Tom pulled her tight against him. They both threw their heads back in laughter until they got into the taxi, where Tom’s expression fell into a cold mask.

Molly sniffled with stifled sobs the entire way home. Tom took no effort to sooth her. He was… cold and detached. They repeated the charade from the restaurant up the stairs to the front door. Tom had to hold back from slamming the door.

“How could you have been so stupid?!” Tom hissed, slamming his keys onto the table.

“Don’t call me stupid. I was just going out with a friend.”

“A handsome movie star!”

“Not unlike my husband! In fact, Chris called you a close friend.” Molly raised her voice.

“He would say anything to take you from me!” Tom yelled.

Molly froze and her head dropped, shoulders hunching forward. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“How else am I to make you understand, Molly?!” Tom continued to shout like someone crazed. He gestured wildly in the air. “You are forbidden to see him.”

“I want out.” Molly sobbed.

“What?” Tom snapped out of it. He glanced at Molly, only to see the damage he had done. Molly was all but curled in on herself. She sobbed freely, shoulders shaking. “Molly, I…”

“Don’t touch me.” She turned from his hand, reaching out to her. “Why is Chris different from your sister?”

“Because Emma isn’t trying to steal you from me.”

Molly chuckled. “You’re fucking jealous?! How rich! Chris is a nice guy! I used to say the same about you. I used to…” her voice trailed off.

“Used to what?” Tom sniped, tears of anger and hurt filling his own eyes. “Take pity on me? Poor Tom with shit taste in women?! Has to pay a girl to pretend to be his wife for the papers?!”

Molly reared back and slapped him. Tom held his cheek.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Molly screeched. “I’m leaving. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.”

“Molly, please…” Tom begged.

“Fuck off, Tom!” Molly pushed past him. “I thought we were…” she sobbed. “But I guess not. It’s my own fucking fault.”

“What’s your fault, Molly?” Tom asked. “What’s your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Molly cried, defeated. “I was clearly wrong about you.”

“Wrong how?” Tom’s heart shattered as she walked away, returning with a small bag.

“Goodbye, Tom. Don’t worry, I’ll be discrete. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your good guy image?” she sneered before heading to the door.

“Where will you go?” Tom grew more desperate as the reality of his actions set in.

“Away from you. Other than that, I don’t much care.” The front door slammed behind her.

Tom collapsed onto the couch and his head fell into his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK!” he screamed into the void of his empty house.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #accidently married

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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years ago

Text

Roommates (Pt. 1) - Jamie Oleksiak

Words: 4.4k+

Type: ANGST

Summary: After many years of being best friends with Jamie, you’ve grown tired of hiding your true feelings and fearing the end of your friendship.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of sex while intoxicated (consensual). Age gap. Sad, sad reader.

Jamie Oleksiak. The name of your best friend and the defenseman of the team Dallas Stars. As well as your roommate for the past few years.

You two met at a bar a few years back. He was playing for the Penguins at the time, and you were in college.

You weren’t a big fan of hockey at the time, so you actually needed the help of a friend to know his name in the first place. Something, he found funny for some reason, while you, just felt deeply embarrassed.

It’s no secret that you two had sex that night. You two were equally tipsy, which did make everything seem easier and more fluid, in a way. Yet you never forgot the night.

Not only was it the beginning of an amazing friendship, it was also the best night of your life.

It took you two a few weeks to reconnect again and have your share of laughs. Your humor helped you out with him liking to hang out with you more and more each day. As well as the fact that it never seemed like you were interested in anything else but a conversation and company for lunch or periods in between classes.

You were just different, in a way.

Years went by and he was traded back to Dallas.

By the time it happened, you two were still heavily attached and, also, calling each other best friends. And yes, you had to be the first one to call him that.

You had finished your degree at that time and Jamie took that as a good reason to try and make you move in with him to Dallas. You were shocked, to say the least. You had just gotten used to living in Pittsburgh and now he wanted you to go with him to a whole different place.

It took a lot of pleading and being way too annoying for you to say yes, but he got you to do it. It was easy after he mentioned that you could live with him in the center of the city, where everything is, and also that he will pay for most of the rent. What can you say? You’re a simple girl.

And who says ‘no’ to free things?

Oh, and why most of the rent and not all? Because you felt bad at one point (that point being: one week in) and made a whole tantrum until he allowed you to pay a small percentage of the large rent.

Being best friends with Oleksiak got you a lot of things. Got you happiness (which can be discussed). Got you to like sports, especially hockey - which surprised your family since they had been trying to make you like it for years.

Got you Instagram followers. Since you know, that’s the most important thing of this whole friendship (*sarcasm*). Which, by the way, did made you more active on social media and be Big Rig’s fans’ personal provider of content.

Got you to live in a beautiful city with him. But most importantly: It got you to fall in love with him.

You first realized you were falling in love with Jamie back when you were in his old apartment. You had just woken up from a big party, with a big headache and his large arm over your waist.

It was early in the morning and the sun was starting to rise. Jamie was sleeping next to you, with his back to the windows, protecting himself from the harsh lighting. You looked back at him and his peaceful look as he slept silently next to you. You turned and laid your head back on his pillow, admiring his face. You were bold enough to bring your hand up to his face, and smoothly running your thumb over his cheek as you cupped it.

You could kill to have that every morning. To have him quiet and leaning into your touch unconsciously like it was your morning routine. Welcoming your hold as if it was his safe haven when he needed someone.

And even though all of those things already were true and present in your day-to-day life, it was never how you liked it. Always in a friendly-loving type of touch. Never a whole another loving type of way.

And that’s when you got it. You were falling in love.

Those feelings got stronger and stronger with each day that passed, and Jamie... Well, he’s completely oblivious to it all.

Your friends tease you about it. Always saying stuff like “close your mouth, you’re drooling” when in games or other innocent things like that.

They imagine your stares and glances as just a possible small crush, or that it was your way of looking out for your introverted friend. Never that you were staring at the man you’ve completely fallen in love with.

Nobody knows how you feel. Nobody. Except for you and your overthinking mind.

God, you don’t know how many times you cried over him. All when he was just a few doors away from you as you laid in bed. Or how many times you tried to be independent and look for love in another man, but always ending up disappointed, heartbroken, and unsatisfied.

You had and still have to see him bring girls home late at night, sometimes even talk to some in the morning while he sleeps. Fake being happy for him when he gets a new girlfriend and falls in love with her. Fake liking his girlfriend and act as if she’s exactly who you’d love to see in his life.

Yes, maybe you were being an awful friend, but your feelings were too much for you to just ignore them and not let them affect you.

You’re starting to grow tired with all of this.

“Hey, how was practice?” You ask Jamie right as you walk in the kitchen, not expecting to see him standing there on his phone.

“Good.” He answers, obviously distracted.

You don’t care enough to tease him over the short answer like you always do, so you just walk over to the fridge to get your water bottle.

You just woke up, your eyes feel swollen from crying last night and, god, you feel dehydrated.

Jamie brought a girl home yesterday after the game, right when you were supposedly asleep. You heard them walking down the hallway, him shushing her as she giggled away.

You weren’t all that affected until you met her in the kitchen at 4am. And she had the audacity to be nice. She knew you were the roommate, so she wasn’t shocked when she saw you. But you were to see her.

You had just finished binge-watching a show, and she, well, she had stopped at least moaning an hour before.

You adjust the hood of your hoodie to try and hide your face and eyes from any morning light, and of course, a particular pair of eyes. Jamie leans back on the counter, putting his phone back on his pocket, eyes completely on you, now.

“What’s wrong with you?” He teases, smile prominent on his tone.

“Nothing.” You answer, head still low on the ground.

You put your water down and you scrub your face with your hands, harshly trying to wake yourself up to the day that you still have to experience.

It’s god damn 12pm.

Jamie leans back a little on the counter and takes a look at your face. God, you look sad. Your eyes are puffy and your lips are slightly swollen, just like under your eyes. You, for sure, had been crying.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

You look up at him to already find him staring. You plaster one of your usual fake smiles over your lips and shake your head.

“Nothing, dummy. I’m just tired” You say with a completely different tone than before.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” You reassure, shoving your hands on the front pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing, his hoodie.

He looks at you worried and you smile more wide, walking close to him and wrapping your arms around him. You rest your head over his chest and he hugs you back right away.

“I’m okay.” You whisper.

You close your eyes as you feel him squeeze you close to him and try your best to enjoy the moment. Not that you don’t get a lot of hugs from the giant man, but these ones are different. They’re the comforting ones. The ones that almost make you, not only cry all over again but also, be in a better mood in a few more hours.

You blink your tears away and try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you. You look up and he’s staring back.

“Can I go take my shower, now?” You ask him with a playful tone.

“Nop.” He says, squeezing you back to his chest, “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You say with a small chuckle.

“Stop lyiiing!” He sings the words and you smile a little.

He kisses the top of your head and you sigh.

“I’m tired. I didn’t sleep at all, tonight,” You tell him and he lets go of you for a bit, “Can I please go now?”

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

You shrug, stepping back.

“I saw a horror movie.” You lie and you know right away that he didn’t believe you. “I’m serious.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not!”

“You. Are.” He says with a playful tone, definitely not wanting to start an argument since you’re not in the best mood.

You sigh and turn around, walking over to your room before he could even reach to hold you back and make you talk.

(...)

Jamie expected you to be in a better mood after you showered, but that did not happen. You took your shower, walked to the kitchen to get something small to eat, and closed yourself back up in your bedroom.

He thought about going over to your room to talk to you but he hesitated when he realized that he didn’t even know what to say or ask.

So, he stayed in the living room, playing video games while giving you some time. As well as promising himself that if you don’t walk out in an hour, he’ll go in to check if you’re still alive and haven’t turned into a zombie.

You scroll through your social media on your phone. You watch everyone’s Instagram story with a serious look on your face, some of them just make you grin slightly at their contagious laughter or bad jokes, but most are just boring.

You slide off the app and click on your gallery. You scroll to the top and a grin appears on your face as the memories all hit you at once. You scroll and stop midway, where most of your videos are.

You click on one specifically and stare down at it.

It was a short video of you in the kitchen playing around and singing along to a song. You smile at your dramatic dancing and pointing towards an off-screen Jamie, and you turn up the volume.

You were singing along to the lyrics of the sappy breakup song while pointing at Jamie, as if you were dedicating the whole performance to him.

You stop dancing for some seconds, panting, and you hear Jamie laughing loudly off-screen over how tired you were.

“You danced for like 30 seconds!” He exclaims and you glare at him.

“Fuck off.” You curse.

He laughs again and you smile before walking back to your phone to stop recording and change the music.

You swipe for the next video and it’s another whole performance, but this time Jamie was on the screen, just in the corner.

You smile as you scream the lyrics and laugh like a maniac at his expression of complete terror. The video ends with you randomly hugging him as you laugh, which meant that you cut the rest, for some reason. You swipe again and the videos of that day ended there.

You look through more videos and you find some others that are just as funny, and others just completely random. Like the one where it’s just 5 seconds of you zooming in on Jamie washing his teeth in the bathroom while you’re laying on his bed.

Things only drunk you understands when doing them.

You go through all of the random ones and find some with your friends. Most of you all drunk in a club screaming “Happy new year” before everyone starts kissing one another.

A knock on your door makes you look up and Jamie peeks in.

“Can I come in?” He asks and you nod.

You continue laid on your bed and Jamie lays beside you.

“What have you been doing in here all day?” He asks and you look over as he also looks down at your phone.

“Not much.” You say with a shrug, “Just scrolled through social media, and now I’m watching old videos”

“Of...?”

“Nothing in particular, even though most of my stuff is me annoying you.” You say and he smiles.

He takes your phone from your hands and you let him, grabbing your pillow so you can rest your head over something that isn’t your fist or arm.

He clicks some random video and you see that it’s the one you were smiling at not too long ago. He smiles as he sees you do your whole performance and scrolls down for more.

You stay like that for some time and you sigh.

“I’ve been thinking-” You start and he nods.

“That’s good.”

You chuckle under your breath and continue.

“I think I should move out.” You admit, ignoring the small pain building up in your chest.

Jamie looks up from your phone and gives you a look, scowling in what looks like pure confusion.

“What? Why?” He asks defensively.

You shrug before answering, “I just feel, like, we don’t have a reason to live together anymore.”

He blinks at you, not getting it, and you sigh.

“Jamie, we started living together so we could hang out more. We almost don’t even have time to hang out together.” You tell him and he’s still scowling. “You have practice every morning. I work all afternoon. You have games when I get out of work and when you get here after games, it’s not exactly... appropriate... for us to hang out”

“What do you mean?”

“Yo-you always have girls with you.” You explain.

“Ooooh, are you jealous?” He asks with a small smile, his hard expression breaking.

Oh, God.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, but what you’re saying is ridiculous. We hang out every day I have off, always have lunch together and I even let you sleep in my bed on Sundays.”

You roll your eyes and look away, turning on the bed to stare at the ceiling. He’s not lying. You two do spend time together, but, god damn, you need to complain about something for you to be able to get out of this... situation.

“We would hang out just as much if I had my own apartment.” You spit and he locks your phone.

“Is that really your reason?” He asks and you nod, “I don’t believe you.”

“I just... forget it” You sigh.

You sit up and a familiar weight starts resting over your shoulders and chest, it’s like if guilt and heartbreak had a love child. That’s how you’ve been feeling for the past few months. And it’s just awful.

“No, don’t get upset on me, now. Just explain what’s wrong” He says, pulling you to lay down again next to him.

You stare at him for a second and you take a deep breath.

“It’s personal things, Jamie. I just feel like we both could use some privacy, you know?” You ask.

“Personal things...?” He questions, more to himself than anyone else.

“It’s stupid, just forget it.” You repeat, looking away, “You won’t get it, we can talk about this in another time.”

He stays quiet for a bit.

“Do you really want to move out that bad?” He asks, his tone is different, softer, worried too.

You shrug. You don’t want to do it, but you can’t help but think that this is what’s best for you. After so many years of fighting your feelings for him and having them double each day over having to see him every day, is just frustrating.

You need your own space and your own time.

At least somewhere you can cry over heartbreak and not have to worry about the person behind it walking in your room.

“Since when have you been feeling like this?” He asks, breaking your train your thought. “About... moving out?”

“A few months.” You admit.

He stays quiet and you continue to eye the wall intensely, while at the same time have Jamie stare sadly at you.

It’s not every day your best friend says that she wants to move out of your home.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” He asks, feeling helpless.

You think for a second.

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

You sniffle quickly and let out a loud sigh. You’re battling every emotion in you but for an outsider, you just look frustrated. Not sad.

Jamie continues to stare silently and you feel his eyes on you. Your heart is breaking at his silence, and it’s painful. Yet you don’t know what else to do.

You’ve felt like you’ve done everything you could, and this... this is just what you’re left with. This and your unconfessed feelings.

“Are you still planning on staying in Dallas?” He asks, breaking the heart-wrenching silence.

“Yeah,” You say, blinking some tears away, “Of course, I am. Or at least close. I might have to move out of the city and stay in the suburbs, but-”

“Why?”

“I’m not that well paid, Jamie.” You say in an amused tone.

“I can he-”

“No.” You say quickly, staring at him.

Your eyes are almost pleading for him to not do anything of the sort, not pay for rent or even be responsible over anything of yours.

If you want to start fresh, you can’t let him do it.

“Why not?”

“I have my own money” You assure. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

You blink some more tears away and he frowns at the sight of them.

“Are you telling me that or telling that to yourself?” He asks you.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat the question, he just continues to stare at you silently and your urge to cry intensifies.

You’re so used to look at him as your safe haven that breaking down in front of him is just engraved in your brain as something natural. But this time it’s not about work, it’s about him.

“Why are you crying?”

You snap back to reality and bring your hands up to your face, forcefully wiping them.

“It’s...”

Jamie sits up quickly, not letting you move away from him or the conversation, and a small shaky sigh escapes your mouth.

“Talk to me,” He pleads and you breathe in sharply.

You look down at your hands and your heart starts to speed up in your chest. He also looks down at your hands and sees you angrily play with the string of the hoodie you’re wearing.

You want to open your mouth to confess everything, but your emotions get the best of you. Just the thought of how ‘it’s all going to be now’ makes you freeze.

This could be the moment that will change everything and make him never look at you in the same light.

The moment when your friendship dies. And you can’t let that happen.

Jamie’s hand rests on your shoulder and your body shakes with your cries and he looks at you worryingly. He wraps his arms around you and your face meets the soft fabric of his shirt.

He holds as you cry it out, fear still present in you even though you have already talked yourself out into not saying anything. It’s like it’s permanent now.

“Is this about work?” He asks, trying to guess.

Guess you got to do what you do best: Lie.

(...)

Some would honestly agree that destiny, or whatever you believe in these situations, was on your side, when Jamie, days prior to you leaving the apartment, needs to go on a roadie.

He felt absolutely awful that he wouldn’t be home to help you move out, even offered you to wait until he came back, so he can help. But a ‘it’s fine’ was your answer.

You felt awful. He’s your best friend in the whole world and you were destroying your so ‘healthy’ and loving communication so you could get some peace in return.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You tell him as your voice is muffled by his shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” He says as his arms hold you close to him. “I can still call you like before, right?”

“Of course, you can.” You tell him, in a tone as if you would be stating the obvious.

He’s wearing a suit, ready to get on the team’s bus before departing to whatever state he will be playing in. He smells like his cologne, strong as ever, since it hadn’t been long since you two left home.

You, on the other hand, are wearing an oversized t-shirt and some jeans. Nothing too special. Just good enough to take your best friend to wherever he’s getting a bus to work.

“Hey, Rig! Let’s go!” One of the guys screams from the bus door.

It’s not like he’s holding back anyone from leaving, since there are still staff members dragging piles of equipment in the bus’s trunk. But every player is already making their way up to their seats or is already seated.

“You need to go.” You tell him as you try to pull him away by resting your hands on his torso and pulling yourself off, “You have a big trip ahead of you.”

“I know.” He says before squeezing you closer to him.

You feel him lay some kisses on the top of your head and when you look up at him, he just has a small grin over his face.

“You better pick up every single call, uh?” He threatens and a smile reappears on your face.

“Or what?” You challenge, eyebrows held up as if to wait for his answer with an attitude.

He laughs, yet he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts his gaze from you to the bus. His hands lift from your back and rest on your shoulders, giving them a slight squeeze.

It’s time for him to go.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” He asks and you nod.

You two pull away from each other and he leans down to grab his bag. You watch him silently, trying to fight off your emotions that keep on building up whenever he’s about to walk away, and he looks down to give you another look.

“See you at the home game?”

You swallow harshly and nod at him again, a small smile on your face.

The game is 2 weeks away from happening but it will eventually be the end of this roadie. Jamie comes back and stays until the next ‘non-home’ game, which is just a week later, giving you enough time to run through your plan.

You’re not sure if you want to be there. What you’ve planned until now was something over the phone with one of your parents. They offered to help you out and said something along the lines of ‘why don’t come home for a bit?’.

You’re not going to lie, it sounds nice to go home. Maybe take a month or two away from Dallas, away from Jamie.

It’s just that you will miss the home game, or, really, many home games.

You stare as your best friend walks towards the bus and you blink your tears away. He gives his last bag to a worker, who carefully carries it to the trunk, and he takes his first step into the bus.

You inhale sharply, face warming up as your emotions start getting the best of you. The wives, a few feet away from you, are incapable of noticing what’s happening to you, but either way, it could be mistaken just by the ‘goodbye’ for the trip.

You look back up at the bus and see Jamie take his seat by the window, beside one of the guys, you can’t really tell who it is by how tinted the windows are.

His eyes soon find you again and you force your small smile to come back.

Your breathing is sharp and shaky, all because you’re trying to focus on every step of your plan and not on the man that is staring back at you.

All you gotta do is move out, act as if time and distance are pulling you two away, ignore some of his calls... And just let it happen. But, god, why does it hurt so much?

Jamie frowns as you look down at your shoes for a few seconds and his heart clenches as he sees you wipe your tears away, hidden from any of the wives’ eyes.

He eyes you and your head lifts as soon as the bus starts, vibrating under him and loudly signalizing to you that he’s about to leave.

You stare back at him as if in the long lost void, biting your own lips as if to hold back any sobs and eyeing the tinted windows, deep in thought.

You love Jamie. Love him with your whole heart, with your whole being. More than you can even put it into words. But, you can’t just lose him. Not by your confession.

You can’t bear to feel any more hurt, more broken.

The bus soon starts moving and you look through the glass to see Jamie look at you with a worried look. You hide your emotions, once more, with a smile and give him a wave of goodbye.

He waves back and soon enough, the bus leaves, leaving you with nothing but your emotions and self-hate.

Your phone vibrates in your hand and you look down at the screen, tears covering your eyes and making it hard to read. Your urge to break down multiplies by each time a person around you walks away.

Riggy 🥰: I’ll come back before you know it

Am I proud of this? No.

Do I know how to make it better? No.

Really hope it’s not too shitty. I’ve had this on my drafts for so long, I just had to post it.

#jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak imagines #jamie oleksiak fic #jamie oleksiak x reader #big rig #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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