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ravennm84 · 3 years ago

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Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her.

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion.

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything.

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her.

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out.

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas.

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school.

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary.

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases.

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever.

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris.

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace.

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times!

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted.

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time.

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding.

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me.

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action.

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School.

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating.

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?”

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.”

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.”

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

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#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila lies #lila karma #lila bashing #mlbjustice #miraculous ladybug #lila's parents #parenting done right

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markberries · 4 years ago

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a l o n e t i m e┊draco malfoy

ALONE TIME — DRACO MALFOY

info: you and the infamous draco malfoy were always at each other’s throats, so when you’re by yourself planning to prank the irritating slytherin, you take this as an opportunity to finally relieve yourself. but of course, things go a little unexpectedly.

warnings: absolute filth, smut smut smUT !! cursing

genre: SMUT, fluff at the end, enemies to lovers, gryffindor!reader word count: 2400+

a/n: ok so like... i got onto dracotok, and decided to write this. it's been awhile so i hope u enjoy!! btw this isnt edited at all (n if u know me irl, no u dont)

god — you absolutely despised draco malfoy.

he reminded you of why you asked the sorting house to not place you into slytherin; he was rude, a smartass, and an asshole.

everyone knew how much you and draco liked to bicker with each other. it's almost as if he knew what got under your skin, or maybe it was because everything he said gave you the urge to tell him to shut up. he would never stop talking about how you would ruin the school's reputation, being an international student from north america.

honestly, arguing with draco had been a regular thing. maybe a few small pranks here and there, but that was only when he had royally pissed you off (it happens quite often). although you did find draco quite attractive, it was completely overlooked by how much of an arse he was.

you sat in the dining hall with your fellow gryffindor students, harry, hermione, and ron. they were the only ones you really talked to, well in your year at least.

from across the room, you locked eyes with draco. you glared at him, then rolled your eyes, focusing your attention back to your three friends.

"seriously y/n, if you want to ace herbology, you're going to need to listen to me," hermione mutters, continuing to go over notes with you.

"sorry, it's just malfoy has been giving me dirty looks, kind of in the mood to punch him right now," you snort, then feeling hermione flick your forehead shortly after. "come on y/n, you can deal with malfoy later."

"how long have you and malfoy been going at each other?" ron asks, "it feels like it's been decades."

you laugh, "it's only been a year, alright? and it's only because he's such an ass."

"me? an ass?" you hear malfoy emitting from behind you, you could practically hear the arrogance dripping from his voice. you roll your eyes, then turn to look at him.

"listen here malfoy," you hiss, "i swear to god, if you don't fuck off, i will personally, beat the shit out of you."

malfoy laughs, looking back at his friends, than back at you. "looks like the pretty girl has a potty mouth," he says through his laughter.

"get out of here malfoy," harry told draco, and draco only replied with the roll of his eyes.

"whatever, potter. see you guys around, and watch yourself, y/n. you never know what's coming."

malfoy leaves after that, and you groan in annoyance. hermione breathes deeply, feeling the same amount of irritation as you.

"how do you put up with his shenanigans? i cannot stand malfoy," ron states, venom lacing his voice when he says malfoy's name.

"well you know," you sigh, "it just never ends. i get him back for doing something to me, and then he does something even worse after, but i don't mind."

harry looks at you with confusion in his eyes, "what do you mean you don't mind? i would definitely mind."

"well," you pause, glancing at draco who is already glaring at you, "i've been thinking. ever wanted to see draco with red hair?"

"oh my god, y/n no! we'll lose a terrible amount of points!" hermione gasps, closing her notebook to convince you that this would be a big mistake.

"it would be worth it," harry chuckles, imagining how draco would react to having gryffindor's colours among his head.

"harry!" hermione snaps.

"by the way y/n, are you coming to the common room party tonight?" ron asks, but you shake your head. "no, i don't think so. i want to prepare for malfoy's new hair do, but i'm sure you will have fun."

"but y/n! i need you there to survive," hermione begs, she's told you before that she was so excited to have another girl in her friend group, if that's what you can call it. she didn't mind being the only girl with ron and harry, but it was a nice change to have you there.

"i'm sorry hermione, next time, i promise!" you smile, winking at her and tilting your head.

"okay.. just be careful with malfoy, alright?"

—

you sat in bed, reading spells that you could do to make draco's hair red. even if there wasn't a spell, you had red hair dye ready to go.

while you were sitting there by yourself, you couldn't help but realize it had been ages since you were left alone, you were almost always surrounded by people, and that means it's been awhile since you had "relieved" yourself.

i shouldn't let an opportunity go to waste, right? you thought to yourself, fuck it.

you placed the book onto your bedside table and removed your cute little pyjama pants that had penguins on them, discarding them onto the floor and sticking a hand down your black lace underwear.

you brought your fingers to your clit, letting out a mewl. it truly felt so nice to finally be able to touch yourself again, after months of not doing anything.

you slowly trailed your fingers to your folds, collecting the building up wetness. you slid your fingers up and down, rubbing on your clit a little more as well. you slapped your free hand onto your mouth to cover up any loud noises.

you moaned to yourself, shutting your eyes as you played with your little bundle of nerves, before sliding a finger into your pussy swiftly, moaning quietly. lost in the moment, you began thinking of draco, sure he was a douche, but he had a pretty face, and that was good enough for you at the moment.

you imagined what it would feel like for his finger to pump into you like this, how it would feel like for him to call you pet names as you moaned.

you slid another finger in, whimpering even louder as you felt the unforgotten feeling of the knot being formed in your stomach. you imagined how it would feel like for draco to kiss you as he finger fucked you, how it would feel like if he curled his fingers in your pussy as you moaned his name.

"draco.." you whimpered quietly.

"oh love," someone said from the shadows.

you immediately froze, retracting your hand from your panties as you scrambled to cover yourself with your blanket. you heard footsteps, and then saw a familiar figure emerge from the darkness.

"what do we have here?" the platinum blonde boy smirked, staring at your embarrassed form on your bed. "never thought someone like you would be wanting me this badly."

"what the fuck, draco?" you whisper-shouted, holding the blanket to your chest and staring at him with furrowed brows, "you better get out of here before you regret being here in the first place."

"ah yes," draco chuckled, walking closer to you, "i would love to leave and tell everyone about how you were moaning my name as you touched yourself." you wanted nothing more than to smack that stupid, hot smirk off of draco's face.

"what the hell do you want?" you asked, quickly looking at what he was wearing. a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black dress pants.

"i was actually here to dye your hair green, you see, i saw you weren't at the party, and thought you were sleeping, but i can see it's obvious that you weren't. but now," draco explained, "y/n, the question is," he took a seat on your bed, lifting your chin to look into your eyes, "what do you want, hmm?"

his eyes trailed to your exposed neck and shoulders, "do you want me to bend you over like the bad girl you are? or do you want me to fuck you with my fingers, is that it?"

you stayed silent.

you hated the fact that you could feel yourself getting wetter as he spoke, and you hated how much you wanted him. you wanted him to do all those things, and more. you wanted him to make you say his name, you wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair as he fucked you.

"perhaps i misread the situation," draco said, rising from his position and dusting off his pants. "i better be going, crabbe and goyle may be looking for me already."

you grabbed his arm, "draco malfoy, i swear to god that if you don't fuck me, i will kill you." draco smirks at you once again, "now that's something i'd like to hear."

draco gets into your bed as you lower the blanket, exposing your top half, only being covered by your bra. he gets on top of you, kissing you with desire and hunger. you moan into his mouth as you feel him unhook your bra and grab your breast. he takes this as the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, asserting dominance with your own.

he breaks the kiss, panting to take off his own clothes and throw them onto the ground.

"you know, i always thought you were hot," malfoy says, and you scoff. he throws your bra onto the floor as well, before getting on top of you again and kissing your neck.

"i never thought that i'd get to fuck you, though."

you palm him through his boxers, and he groans, hardening quicker by the minute. he bites down softly on your neck, making you gasp. he drags his hand down to your clothed heat, rubbing you through the thin fabric.

you bite down on your lip, wrapping your arms around draco's neck. he kisses your collarbone, before tucking his hand in your panties, playing with your clit between his two fingers.

"love, i think these drenched undies of yours are gonna have to go," he says, grabbing the elastic part, pulling it back and then letting it go, slapping your skin lightly. "mind if i take them off?"

you quickly shake your head no, and he puts on that smug smile of his, before going down to crotch level, and sliding your panties down in a one, quick movement.

"god, i bet you imagined this," draco muttered, sliding a finger into your already soaking core. "all prettied up for me, saying my name.."

he slowly inserts a finger into you, pumping in and out slowly. "fuck, draco!" you moan, grabbing onto the bed sheets. it feels so much better to have him with his finger inside you, pressing light kisses to your stomach.

he inserts another finger, pumping faster this time. "how do i make you feel, hmm? how much did you want this? did you want to come with my fingers inside you?"

draco keeps his fingers inside you, thrusting them at a steady pace, but he comes up to look at your face. you screw your eyes shut, enveloping yourself in the pleasure.

"look at me, love," draco says sternly, making you lock eyes with him. he puts another finger inside you. "do you want to come like this?"

you nod furiously, intertwining your fingers in his hair. "oh god draco.. i'm gonna come.. fuck.."

suddenly, draco removes his fingers from your insides, chuckling to himself as he sees your face form into a vicious glare, almost as if you were ready to slap him. you clenched around nothing, irritated with draco for retracting his fingers as you were just about to reach your high.

"what the fuck, draco?" you yelled, he just laughed and sat up from his position.

"we're just getting to the good part, love, and you're lucky i brought condoms just in case. now be a good girl and turn around for me, yeah?"

you quickly obliged, scrambling to get on your hands and knees as draco rolls on the condom.

"tell me how much you want this," draco whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. he lines up with your entrance, only waiting for your word.

"i want this so much," you say, panting.

draco squeezes your ass, "not good enough."

"for fuck sakes draco, i want you to fuck me. i want you to mess up my insides and make me moan your name. that's what i want, malfoy."

draco doesn't help himself after that, he thrusts into you, making you yelp and grab a fistful of the bed sheets. you clench around him, making him groan out in pleasure. "do that again, fuck. it feels so good to be inside you like this."

malfoy grabs the headboard, slamming into you at a moderate speed, and you could feel your high approaching.

"you take my dick so well, y/n, i've wanted nothing more than to take you into my room and fuck you just like this," he admits. the sound of your skin slapping is the only thing that could be heard in the room, other than the party going on in the common room.

you feel a knot forming as draco hits a spot in you, making you whimper. "right.. there.. fuck!" you yell, as draco continues to hit the same spot.

"i'm gonna come," draco grunts, picking up the pace and biting his lip. "are you gonna come with me, love?"

"yes! yes! i'm gonna... fucking come!" you moan, your arms almost giving out as draco's thrusts become deeper and faster.

"come then, i wanna hear you scream my name," draco groans, slapping your ass lightly. "f-fuck! i'm-"

"draco!" you cry out in pleasure, as the knot in your stomach untangles in the most euphoric way. draco pulls out, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash. you collapse on the bed, breathing heavily with sweat glistening on every inch of your body. you feel a dip in the bed beside you, and you hear draco panting.

"well," draco says, facing you. you turn your head to see him with a confident grin on his face. "unexpected, huh?"

"yeah whatever, shut up malfoy," you reply, now turning to lay on your back, but still looking at draco. "still don't like you."

"i think different," he teased, playing with strands of your hair. "i think you like me."

you scoff, "as if! i just needed some dick."

"okay y/n, whatever you say," he grinned, "but how about i take you out to hogsmeade, and lets see if you have a change in heart."

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco smut #draco fluff #draco imagine #draco scenario #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 4 years ago

Text

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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bnhamixjuice-sfw · 3 years ago

Text

ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #shouta x y/n #shouta x reader #shouta x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #Reposted my old fic/hc here cause I forgot to remove keep reading before deactivating

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postalenha · 3 years ago

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nothing % jaemin

pairing: ceohusband!jaemin x female reader genre: fluff!! word count: 1.25k words requested: yes!! synopsis: as you and your husband move into your new home, you can’t help but reminisce the past thinking how much hard work and sacrifices it had to take to make things the way they are. warnings: not much, just kissing.

trying to picture whatever awaits, your husband jaemin softly removed the blindfold as you adjust with the sudden brightness lit upon you.

not able to form words, your jaw drops as you look up at a huge two story mansion. you didn't even notice the tears rolling down your cheek until jaemin wipes them away, "why are you crying?"

"nothing." you sniff, "i'm just happy for us." remembering the days when you tried to maximize the space of the apartment you both shared for at least three years.

summer would be too hot for the air condition doesn't work while winter would be too cold as you both cannot afford to have extra cash to even buy a heater.

he held your hand, "shall we go in?" you both walked into the home of your dreams. the house have the high ceiling so high that jaemin wouldn't have to slouch all the time just to prevent bumping his head for the nth time.

"we should look around before the moving truck comes." jaemin suggested so you roamed around your new home. "wow, there are a lot of rooms huh." you commented.

"yes." he cheekily said, "so we wouldn't be cramped whenever we have some friends over." you both laughed at his statement, "remember when we invited jeno and the others because my start up was a success?"

remembering how all of them slept while sitting because there wasn't any beds would never fail to crack you up, "haechan was so angry because he woke up with a stiff neck!" he cracked out laughing as you remember haechan not being able to tilt his head for days.

"those were the good old days i miss." he sighed ay you two looked at the mountain view from this huge window. "but i love our life now." he said holding your cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

hearing some footsteps slowly approaching, you pull away from the kiss. smiling as you see your husband pout out of disbelief, "good afternoon, mr and mrs na." the trucker greeted.

"good afternoon." your husband said, "are our furniture here?" he asked. the trucker immediately nodded, "they're currently moving them. would you like to tell us where should we place them?"

the both of you followed him go down the stairs, to look after the furniture being placed. time flies faster than you think it does and both of you are left with so much box to unpack.

"do you think we should continue tomorrow?" you asked your husband who's busy sorting the boxes. "you can rest, i'll just finish seperating my files and other stuff."

"i'll help you out then." you came to him and started lifting heavy boxes, "oh- y/n!" your husband shouts as he runs after you, "you shouldn't lift heavy boxes."

you safely put the box on the countertop before looking at him, "what do you mean? i can lift it just fine." he crossed his arms at you." i know you're strong. but that's not something for you to do, okay?" he softly said before putting a strand of your hair to the back of your ear.

"what do you want me to do then?" you crossed your arms back t him, "just sit on the sofa." he suggested, "really? you want me to sit while you sweat your ass there?" sarcastically turning down his suggestion.

"i don't care. just sit there and be pretty." he blurted. that comment instantly zipped your mouth, you can never win over na jaemin with this type of things so you just obeyed him.

throwing yourself to the brand new couch, you cannot help but hum in satisfaction because it probably is the softest couch you've ever sat on. "try the remote." he hinted.

you giggle as you reach for the remote, really excited to watch some drama you grew puzzled as the remote doesn't have numbers or anything familiar.

it seems unusual so you asked your husband, "are you sure this is the remote for our tv? why doesn't it have any number?" you hear him chuckle from afar before answering, "just press a random button! i promise you it won't explode."

being the obedient girl that you are, you press a button and the sofa suddenly started moving, "ah!" you shout out of fear. "are you okay?" jaemin asked as he run to you.

"the couch is haunted!" you told him, still scared of what happened. "someone probably died there." he ticked his tongue.

"wait what?!" you exclaimed, "what? you were the one who suggested that we should buy second hand furniture?" he teasingly said. seeing how frightened you are he pulled you into his chest.

"no, i'm just kidding." he said, "that couch is brand new. newest design, i think? this remote-" he took the remote out of the floor, "this is for the couch." he then started clicking some buttons.

"it's adjustable to your liking, so if the person sitting have long legs, there would be enough space for them." he demos as you just quietly watch the couch move.

"it also have this massage feature, so we can relax while we watch tv. isn't that fantastic?!" he exclaimed, you slap his chest saying "it would've been fantastic if you told me beforehand!"

"but it was fun to see your reaction!" he teased, "it was fun, huh?" you looked at him, "na jaemin you should run for your life!" you shout as you chase him around your huge home.

"okay! i surrender!" he shout in defeat, with his hands on the air. stopping a little too late you bump onto him resulting to the two of you falling on the ground.

you both laugh as he pulls you to rest your head on his arm, "home." he called followed by a sudden sound he commanded, "open the ceiling."

you flinch a little as your ceiling slowly opens, revealing the beautiful night sky filled with the stars. the wind followed and as they come in, you feel the cold breeze of it through your skin.

jaemin held you tighter, "first, a moving sofa. now a whole house assistant?" you pointed out, "we don't need any of this, jaemin."

"i know, i only need you." he looked at you, "but is it bad that i want to give you all the things we weren't able to have?" recalling the time when jaemin called you saying his mom kicked him out of their house.

all of that because he disagreed on becoming a lawyer. he was known to be the disgrace of their family for choosing his own interests over theirs.

you both struggled to find a place where the two of you can be productive. you on your work, and him on starting an engineering firm. ending up in such a tiny apartment wasn't helpful either. but it wasn't like you had any other choice.

jaemin had to go through so much. getting declined and ignored by so many company, he decided to make his own. starting with a small start up, everything ended so well to him being a ceo and his friends being the co-owners.

"you deserve all of this." he said, kissing your forehead, "i wouldn't be here if you didn't stay by my side. never forgetting to tell me that everything's going to be okay."

burying your head on his chest, you whisper "well, i am committed to make sure the dreams we have come true."

"and we made it."

happy birthday to our best boy jaemin!!

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gallickingun · 4 years ago

Note

How do you think Tama would react if you begged him to cum inside you while you were having sex? I just want our sweet elf boy to give me a nice creampie

cw: breeding kink, oral (m. receiving), praise, bit o’ dacryphilia!

His thumb is soft against your lower lip, watching with his own unhinged jaw as you bob your head up and down on his cock, the tip nudging your tongue until you are able to take him further, until your throat is tensing up around the thick shaft and you’re drooling down your chin. He swallows, a shininess in his eyes that he gets every time you beg to please him, every time you drop to your knees to prove to him that he’s worth a thousand stars.

“You’re so pretty,” and he doesn’t even mean to say it, not really. Tamaki’s voice is barely above a whisper, and his tongue parts his mouth so he can lick up and over the bow of his upper lip. An exhale shudders his shoulders and his free hand rubs your neck in a soothing motion, and for some reason he wants to kiss you so badly that he can’t see straight.

Or maybe that’s just a biproduct of your pretty mouth suckling all the way to the base of him.

Tamaki’s irises are hidden from you now, his lids unable to stutter open any longer, the further you take him, the more saliva that pools around the base of him until it drips from his balls to the floor. He moans, high and whiney, and his head drops back against the wall behind him, “Baby, ‘m gonna come if you keep that up.”

The thought of being able to taste him is divine, but your thighs throb with the need for something more. You swallow the pool of drool and pre that sits heavy on your tongue, and sit back on your thighs so you can look him in the eyes, seeking out those sweet, darkened irises with a gentle squeeze of his thigh under your petite grip, “T-Tama?”

You’ve wanted this for a while, wanted to beg and plead and cry until he gives it to you, but Tamaki swore he’d go slow, savor every piece of you until you’re tired and then, he’ll do it all over again. But, still, there is something missing. Your eyes are drawn momentarily to the shiny packages littered across your nightstand, taunting you silently, quietly mocking your every movement. You’ve purposefully bruised both of your knees tonight, with the hope that you can draw out such a long, heady arousal from him that it would leak out of you — but not your mouth, not this time.

“Yeah?” he’s trying his hardest not to stutter, you can tell. Your thumb runs over his knee and then you’re cupping your hands along his calves, anchoring yourself to the floor so you don’t float away with how effervescent his gaze makes you feel. You’re squirming on the floor now, the heels of your feet dug into your ass to give yourself some sort of harsh reminder that you need to get this question out of the way, that it will bother you until you know his answer.

You bite your lower lip to bring yourself back to reality and the sentence is slurred, but at least you’ve propelled it from your lips this time, “W-Will you come in me?”

His hips stutter to a stop and you’re worried you’ve run him off. You lick your lips and massage your thumbs in circles against his ankles, drifting palms headed north to administer the same affections to his thighs. Tamaki inhales in a shudder, and his thick fingers slide along your neck until he’s near gripping you at the shoulders, like he might push you further down until the floor swallows you whole. His thumb traces your jawline until he reaches your lower lip, and he cannot stop himself as he runs the pad of his fingerprint against the swell of your lower lip.

“Y-You mean it?” he is hesitant, and you could cry at the sound of his voice breaking the silence. Your mouth laps at the spittle and start of his orgasm that beads against his cockhead, pearlescent and pretty along the purpled tip. A nod has your mind boggling, and all you want is to let him drown you in whatever he’s willing to give you, just to taste him in your womb instead of your throat.

Tamaki guides you to your feet, fingers circled around your wrists to hold you closely, “Angel, I need to know—“

“Yes, I mean it,” your voice is firm and your gaze is direct enough to match. With a gusto you did not have moments prior, you reach out to hold his shaft in your hand, swiveling your palm up and down the length of him so the head disappears in your grasp and he’s already moaning on your first pass. He bucks his hips but then thinks twice, holding you by the hips and angling his pelvis backward so he does not move again, “I-I’m close, c-can’t keep goin’ like this.”

You are a mess when you take another step forward and practically beg him with your words and your gaze, “Then fuck me, ‘jiki. Want to feel you, all of you, inside of me, please!”

Unsure of where your words incited the riot that is his next movements, you allow him to take you along for the ride. Tamaki guides you to the bed and settles between your thighs, wanting to watch the way you fall apart beneath him as he spears you on the thick of his cock and he milks the sticky translucent arousal from between your precious, velveteen folds. He’s slow and deliberate with each thrust, savoring the way your plush warmth steals the very breath from his lungs, sucking him in like it might be the last stroke you ever feel. His palms are tucked under your knees, using the leverage of this position to hold you near folded in half, something you might complain about if it weren’t for the fucked out expression slackening his features.

“Ah, I’m, ‘m cl-close, angel,” he whimpers, and you’re surprised he’s managed this long. You feel a haze cloud your vision and you know it’s the tears that always fall when he fucks you raw on his cock. He’s so thick and deliberate, and you find yourself lost in every bit of him no matter how he takes you. Tamaki’s hips slam into your ass and it stings, and you’re sure that there will be a plethora of reminders of this evening in the form of blistering purple bruises along the curve of your ass.

“Please, Tama’,” you are wanton and uncaring in the desperation to your tone. You buck into him, meeting him more than halfway, the promise of his seed driving you to a new level of hungry. Tears seep down your cheeks and he releases one leg in favor of throwing it over his shoulder, just so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your face, collecting the saltine droplet on his fingertip. You open your mouth in beckoning for his finger, and he obliges you with little question, nothing but adoration and awe in his eyes as he watches your lips mold around his thick digit, suckling and licking at the knuckles.

Tamaki rolls his lips and then his hips and he gasps for breath, “Tell me, love, tell me what you want from me, please, I need you to—“

It is the only encouragement you need to beg for his cock, his come, to tell him that it’s the only thing left to complete you. There is a hole carved out in your innermost parts, and it’s created just for him. You are a desolate wasteland without the depths of his affections, and the weight of his cock between your thighs is but one facet to the gem of your relationship. Your nails are relentless against his back and shoulders, clawing at him like he might be taken from you if you were to let him go. Tamaki indulges you to the fullest, not a single complaint from his full lips as he bucks into you with a sheer force that rivals even the most brutish of men.

“R-Right there,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself, “g-gonna stuff you full, angel, gonna give you all my come until it’s pouring out of you, is that what you want?”

You’re incapable of speech at this point, too fucked out to do much other than listen and receive. Luckily for you both, you’re receptive enough for a thousand lifetimes, eyes widening and mouth parted in a silent begging as you tighten your thighs and cant your hips in time with his rhythm. The pleadings you’re able to muster are little more than musings, incomplete sentences and half-syllables, but he has been with you long enough to know what you mean.

Tamaki seems to put it all together on his last stroke, eyes widening as he falls forward, hips stuttering with aborted, untimely shifts until you feel the warmth inside of you duplicate tenfold, his cock twitching until he’s spent himself dry. Still, Tamaki moves like he might get started up again, half-hard cock still nestled into the sticky heat of your cunt, watching as the milky slick coats his cock in a ring, collecting when he pulls himself out only to stuff you full all over again. You wonder for a moment if he’s doing this with the knowledge that he’s fucking deeper into your womb with each roll of his hips, but you don’t have the wherewithal to ask.

“So pretty,” his words are but a distant echo of earlier, and this time the meaning is increasingly more lewd than it was when he was merely watching you take his cock deeper and deeper into your throat. Now, with the pulsating thick of his shaft finding purchase in the plush of your cunt, his words carry more weight, and this time you know he’s referencing the way your folds coat him in slick, not leaving an inch of him insatiable for your come. He is coated in it, drenched in the mixture of you both, and immediately, the desire to repeat the action stirs his cock from the depths of your body.

“No, you,” you giggle, framing his face with your hands so you can bring him forward for a kiss, “you’re always so pretty, ‘specially when you come.”

Tamaki turns so his cheek is pressed to yours, hoping you didn’t see the lustful darkening of his amethyst irises before he responds, “Wanna see me get downright gorgeous?”

A giggle is shared between the two of you, along with another round of your begging and pleading to be stuffed to the brim, and who is Tamaki to deny you of something when you ask so sweetly?

#tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki thirst #tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki smut #bnha smut #bnha thirst #bnha x reader #morgan writes bnha #morgan thirsts #morgan gets mail #anonymous #god can you tell i haven’t written x reader in SO LONG

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theultimateultimateweapon · 4 years ago

Text

Kirby: Meta Knight and the Knight of Hades (Chapter 10)

Morpho Knight swung his sword down the slope, releasing a powerful shock wave. The crescent-shaped waves hit Meta Knight in quick succession.

Meta Knight flew left and right, but his arm was hurt and he groaned in pain. Morpho Knight didn’t even look tired.

Meta Knight remembered what happened in the underworld. In that world, he couldn’t feel tired, hungry, or pain at all. The red knight might not feel any of those feelings no matter how much he fights because of the power of the butterfly of Hades.

If so, does Meta Knight have no chance of winning…?

(No, it can’t be...) Meta Knight gripped his sword and thought. (Those who do not feel tired do not understand the breath of battle. Those who do not feel pain cannot read the movement of their enemy.)

Behind Meta Knight were King Dedede, Kirby, and Blade Knight. Both the great king and Kirby fought desperately, but they had finally lost their strength.

Only Meta Knight was standing. He didn’t know if he could get through this mess. Already, just breathing was painful and his whole body hurt.

(Good. I feel tired and painful because I am alive!)

Meta Knight gathered his strength and jumped up, slashing at Morpho Knight.

However, he repelled it easily.

Morpho Knight slashed violently at Meta Knight’s landing.

Due to his tiredness, Meta Knight, who had been struck before, couldn’t move. He held his sword over his body and guarded desperately, but the damage was great.

His head was fluttering. His eyes were hazy, and his feet were swaying.

(Will I… will I go to the underworld again? This time, forever?) When such an ominous idea came to him, something happened.

“Meta Kniiiiight!”

He heard a loud voice. Waddle Dee’s voice.

Meta Knight raised his face.

Waddle Dee overcame a broken pillar holding something.

“Don’t come any closer!” Meta Knight shouted out.

Waddle Dee turned around, gained momentum, and threw what he was holding in his hand.

“Meta Knight! Here…!”

Something flew through the air. Meta Knight quickly reached out and took it.

Immediately, Meta Knight’s whole body shook. His fatigue and pain disappeared as they were swept away. He felt the power in his hand.

“My treasured sword… the Galaxia!”

It’s unmistakable and genuine. Meta Knight held the Galaxia high. A bright light spilled from the tip of the sword.

Morpho Knight attacked. Meta Knight lightly dodged, shook up and jumped high.

“Spinning Knight!”

While spinning in the air, he slashed at Morpho Knight.

Morpho Knight flinched and was struck down.

Then, immediately, he held his sword horizontally and drill slashed!

Morpho Knight was blown off and struck against a collapsing wall.

Meta Knight had completely regained his power. The Galaxia gave him strength. And the Galaxia was also strengthened by returning to the hands of its true owner. The sword fighter and the sword, united for increased power!

However, Morpho Knight wasn’t finished.

When he stood up, he swung his sword down and sent crescent shock waves one after another. They flew with tremendous speed, but Meta Knight didn’t give up, dodging one after another, getting closer to him.

“Take this-!” Meta Knight swung after Morpho Knight.

Morpho Knight disappeared suddenly. He escaped with teleportation in an instant. Morpho Knight materialized above and behind Meta Knight.

Meta Knight looked back, feeling sick.

Morpho Knight slid in and rushed through the air.

It was tremendous speed. Meta Knight couldn’t dodge it.

“Kah…!” He was moving before he realized.

He grabbed the Galaxia, held it in front of him, and took a strong stance.

At the moment of attack…

“Galactic Counter!”

A deadly mystery that uses the enemy’s attack power against them!

There was no delay, the timing was perfect.

“...ts!” Morpho Knight stiffened his whole body and his attacks were slow.

The game was on. Meta Knight quietly stared at the enemy.

A streak of light spilled out of Morpho Knight. The lights gradually increased, two, three, and the brightness increased. His mask, his sword, and his wings on his back were swallowed by the white light. The knight turned into a ball of light and disappeared with a burst.

After the knight disappeared, countless red butterflies were dancing. The butterflies flew turbulently, fading little by little, and eventually disappeared as if melting away.

“Meta Knight…”

Meta Knight, staring at the disappeared butterflies, was called and turned around.

It was Kirby. He had been injured in the fight, but seemed to regain some energy.

“Did you win?”

“...Yes.”

“Meta Knight really is strong! I couldn’t do it at all.” Kirby looked a little sick.

Behind him, King Dedede stood up slowly. “Uh… Uugh…!”

The king, leaning on his hammer, managed to support his body and said with envy. “I was supposed to do it… I could’ve mustered the strength…!”

“Didn’t you turn and run?”

“I didn’t run off! I was getting a better vantage point!”

Blade Knight also stood up, in tears. “Meta Knight, sir, wow, you’re safe!”

“Yes. No need to worry about me.”

“But what happened? I could have sworn you were on the battleship Halberd…”

Waddle Dee rushed in before Meta Knight answered. “Meta Knight! You won!”

“Waddle Dee.” Meta Knight turned to Waddle Dee.

“I’m grateful you returned my strength with the Galaxia. Thank you.”

“I just carried it. It was the Galaxia that strengthened you…”

Waddle Dee jumped up. “Wait, we still need your help! Your knights are in a hole!”

“A hole?”

“This way!”

Meta Knight followed Waddle Dee to the knights.

The rescued knights were quiet, even surrounding Meta Knight. Everyone’s hearts were so full that no words came out.

Meta Knight opened his mouth. “It was foolish of me to worry, everyone fought so well.”

“Meta Knight, sir…!”

The Meta Knights wept as if the thread of tension had broken.

Sword Knight said. “You’re the real Meta Knight, aren’t you”

“Do I look like a fake?”

“No! You’re definitely real! There’s a big difference!”

Sword Knight saw Beryl crouching down.

Mace Knight snuck behind and grabbed Beryl’s head.

Axe Knight asked, “Let’s punish him for what he’s done. What do you think?”

“Hm…” Meta Knight thought about it.

Beryl was shaking, rattling.

Javelin Knight spoke. “Let’s tie him to the bow of the battleship and let him enjoy space travel.”

Trident Knight replied, “Why don’t we send him to Castle Dedede? Let the Waddle Dees take a break and let him do all the castle work alone!”

Axe Knight added, “No, let’s send him to all the towns he destroyed and make him fix them back up again! First, Dreamland!”

Meta Knight spoke. “That’s still too kind. Let’s tie him up so he can’t move and have Kirby perform a song for him.”

“Eh!?” Kirby was surprised. “Why do I have to sing for this guy!? What a waste…!”

“...No, trust me.” Meta Knight told Kirby. “Persuade him with your wonderful singing that he should never do anything wrong again.”

“...Eh? Persuade him?”

“Listening to a wonderful song can change someone’s mind.”

“Oh yeah… songs have the power to move hearts. I see!” Kirby was determined and nodded. “I will sing! It’ll be a moving song that will gentle the heart of any villain!”

“While you’re at it, would you like to serve your home cooking as well? You should make a special dish that will make him cry with excitement.”

“Okay! Looks like Meta Knight is kind to his enemies.”

“Waddle Dee.”

Waddle Dee, who was swaying and listening to the story, jumped up when Meta Knight called out.

“Ye...yes!”

“I’ll leave it to you. Hold Kirby a concert and set up a special seat for Beryl. Don’t forget to serve Kirby’s special dishes. Have Beryl eat until he is full.”

“Uh… uh… uh, yes…!” Waddle Dee imagined it and nodded in tears of fear.

(Me, Meta Knight…! What a terrifying thing! Kirby’s song is so terrible it could crack the walls of Castle Dedede, and Kirby’s food is so bad he could lose his appetite for the rest of his life…!)

Kirby said with a smile. “Heh, I’ll do my best! Let’s work together, Waddle Dee!”

“Ah… okay…”

“What should I sing? I have to sing with all my heart so Beryl doesn’t do bad things again… of course, I’ll do my best to cook too… Wow, I’m excited! Hey Beryl, I hope you’re looking forward to it!”

“Oh, oh. I’m sure I’ll change my mind.” Beryl was relieved and grinned.

The Meta Knights and King Dedede whispered in the shadow.

“Beryl’s acting like he’s saved.”

“How stupid, he doesn’t know the horror of Kirby.”

“Meta Knight is too cruel. No matter what he did, I’m sorry for Beryl.”

“How could sir make such a proposal…”

“Wow, he’s not kidding around! Good luck, Beryl!”

Meta Knight turned over his cloak and started walking. “Well then, let’s go back to the battleship Halberd.”

“Yes sir!” His subordinates saluted in unison and lined up.

Captain Vul and the Meta Knights were enjoying tea time leisurely for the first time in a long while.

Meta Knight wasn’t there. It seems he had something to do, so he went out without telling them where he was going.

Captain Vul was talking about, of course, Meta Knight.

Axe Knight said. “Even so, it’s strange. Why did Meta Knight, who had been unconscious on the Halberd, appear in the ancient temple?”

Captain Vul replied. “I have an idea, but I can’t quite explain it. I think…”

Captain Vul took a sip of his tea and continued.

“At that time, Meta Knight’s body and mind were disjointed. His body was in a bed in the Halberd here, but his mind was wandering somewhere else.”

“...Huh.”

“Usually, the wandering heart returns to the body. However, Meta Knight is a very strong person, so I think this time his body was called to his heart.”

“...Hmm.”

Blade Knight said. “Meta Knight has a strong body, though.”

“...Well, that is correct. However, if anything, his heart is stronger!”

“Persuasive, if not…” Sword Knight muttered.

“At that time, Galacta Knight took a big hit. Moreover, he was combined with the red butterfly to become even more powerful.”

“Yeah, but what about it?”

“I think I’ve got it. Meta Knight’s desire to fight a strong opponent called to his body.”

“I see, then I understand.”

The Meta Knights nodded.

“Meta Knight’s enthusiasm to fight can be a bit overkill.”

“Hold your tongue. Meta Knight doesn’t like fighting. He likes to make himself stronger.

“Regardless, his desire to fight a strong enemy caused a miracle.”

“As expected from our master!”

Around the time when the peaceful tea party was held on the Halberd, Kirby’s special dinner concert was being held in the basement of the Castle Dedede.

Meta Knight was standing alone in a flower garden of Dreamland.

A pleasant breeze blew and the colorful flowers swayed.

Meta Knight picked up a yellow flower and took a deep breath. It had a refreshing smell.

“It has a nice scent. Pink was… too sweet, wasn’t it?”

Meta Knight couldn’t forget Papi’s happy voice. The whole time he was trying to stop Meta Knight from returning to the original world… At the very end, he was desperate to save Meta Knight. Without Papi, Meta Knight wouldn’t have been able to return to this world.

He wondered, what was Papi doing now? Was he fluttering around looking for someone to talk to?

At that moment, a white butterfly flew by and perched on a yellow flower. It was slowly drinking from the flowers.

Meta Knight muttered in a small voice. “If one day you go to that world, let me know.”

The butterfly stopped moving, as if it had heard Meta Knight’s words.

“I’d like to thank that talkative butterfly with light blue wings. Papi was a good guide… no, a good friend.”

The butterfly fluttered away, and began to fly from flower to flower.

Meta Knight quietly watched until the butterfly disappeared.

(Chapter 9 - Table of Contents)

(The end, thank you so much for reading and all of your support!)

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Text

Prompt: Fic snippet proposed by @myakkoh (tumblr) or BlueSapphire718 (ao3):

“I’m what?” Lan Qiren squawks, since this is the first time he’s heard anything about this. “Sworn brothers with me,” Wen Ruohan drawls. “A memorable night, really.” Lan Qiren stares. “What.” “What’s wrong?” Wen Ruohan sneers. “Can’t speak properly to Da-ge?” “You,” Lan Qiren says, “cannot be Da-ge. It sounds wrong.” “Oh?” “You, are two generations older than me. I am only sixteen.” “All the better,” Wen Ruohan says smoothly.

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

Spilled Pearls

A/N: If Tedious Joys is the story of LQR's relationship with Sect Leader Nie and how WRH impacts that, then this is the story of LQR's relationship with WRH and how Sect Leader Nie impacts that.

Please note the tagging on Ao3 for all warnings, including as to tone

- Chapter 1 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was running to catch up, because he was always running to catch up.

He’d only been allowed to join this particular night-hunt because of Lao Nie’s interference – his brother hadn’t wanted him there, specifically because Lan Qiren was slow and overly fixated on details and not all that handy with a sword – and he was determined not to fall behind. But he was slow, as always, and tired more easily than the others, and then he got distracted and realized a considerable distance had opened up between him and the rest of the group.

He ran to catch up –

He tripped.

He was going to fall flat on his face, he realized as he pitched forward, throwing his hands up in front of his face to try to blunt the pain since humiliation was already a given. He probably wasn’t far enough behind for them not to see this, and then his brother would turn his face away and sigh, aggravated, his shoulders slumping in disappointment at how Lan Qiren had lost him and their sect face all over again.

Lan Qiren was so bound up in his gloomy thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that he had not, in fact, hit the ground.

Someone had caught him.

Even now, they were holding him by the shoulder, keeping him from falling the rest of the way down with a single hand; the posture was awkward, and must be uncomfortable for them.

Lan Qiren straightened himself up immediately and dropped into a deep salute. “Thank you for your help –”

He looked up.

“…Sect Leader Wen,” he finished weakly.

He stared briefly up into red eyes before averting his gaze. He’d thought it was Lao Nie who’d come back to help him, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the familiar Nie colors turning back to the group – perhaps he had come, and was now leaving, since help wasn’t necessary any longer.

He hadn’t expected it to be Wen Ruohan, an ancient monster two generations his elder despite his deceptively youthful face – he hadn’t even realized that Wen Ruohan had decided to tag along on this night-hunt, though of course once he thought about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable. He, like all the other sect leaders, was here for the discussion conference, and a small forest town in the vicinity of the Cloud Recesses did not offer much in the way of other entertainment for outsiders. Why shouldn’t he come along on the night-hunt?

“It’s no matter,” Wen Ruohan said, and it probably wasn’t, for him. Someone with his level of cultivation could hold a kid like Lan Qiren up for a week without noticing the strain. “Did you get distracted by something back there?”

“Small blue flowers,” Lan Qiren said. “Typically associated with certain healing herbs, none of which are native to this area, and growing under an oak of all things; I was wondering if the placement had been deliberate and, if so, by whom and for what purpose. Not to mention when, since those aren’t perennial herbs; they have a longer growing cycle that requires certain meteorological conditions –”

“Aren’t we hunting serpent demons today?” Wen Ruohan asked, and Lan Qiren flinched.

They were, of course. And serpent demons wouldn’t exactly take the time to go plant healing herbs in a wild patch, so it had been a totally pointless diversion.

As usual.

“I got distracted,” Lan Qiren mumbled, his earlier enthusiasm squashed. “I’d say it won’t happen again, but it probably will, and do not lie is a rule.”

Wen Ruohan gave an amused huff. “Ah yes, the famous Lan sect rules. Do you often follow them?”

“Always!”

A hum. “I see. Well, the others have gotten rather far ahead, and I hear the sound of fighting – they must have already found the serpent demons, and will no doubt finish them off by the time we catch up.”

So he’d missed it. Lan Qiren’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“Why don’t you show me your flowers, instead?”

Lan Qiren looked up. Wen Ruohan was smiling.

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously, but Wen Ruohan shrugged and nodded, and, well, Lan Qiren was supposed to be making friends with the members of the other sects, wasn’t he? Maybe no one had been thinking about the Wen sect, especially since Wen Ruohan’s last set of children had all died – someone had broken the prohibition on gossip in Lan Qiren’s presence and suggested that Wen Ruohan had something to do with that, rather than it being just bad luck, and that he’d done it because he thought he was a real immortal and therefore could always start anew, but the idea was so appalling that it surely couldn’t be true – but there wasn’t any real reason to exempt his sect or even him, either. Friends were friends, weren’t they? “It’s this way. Follow me.”

Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and followed Lan Qiren back towards the tree he’d found, his every motion slow and stately as if he were walking in a garden rather than the forest. Lan Qiren found himself mildly jealous.

To distract himself – envying others was against the rules! – he started explaining about the flowers he’d recognized and the types of herbs he thought the plant might be, citing the treatises he’d read about their usual spread and growing patterns and the uses for each one. Somewhere along the line he got distracted, though, because Wen Ruohan mentioned something about the Lan sect rules again, except he got it wrong; there was no rule against excessive verbosity, only against frivolous speech, and while there was a positive rule that counseled speaking meagerly, that was explicitly meant to avoid words that could bring harm and therefore did not apply to intellectual discussions.

Delighted as always to talk about his favorite subject, Lan Qiren promptly launched into an explanation as to the history of the debate as to whether there should be an affirmative prohibition against excessive speech, the various points on either side, the historical texts on the subject, the storied history of the rules regarding the need for an exchange of ideas in furthering education balanced against the exhortation not to take words lightly…

“Look at me,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren obeyed at once. Wen Ruohan was his elder, although not of his sect, and by this point Lan Qiren was used to elders disapproving of how his flickering gaze tended not to settle on people and his preference to look at things through his peripheral vision, and of being ordered to meet their gaze.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were red, as he’d noticed before, and his gaze was heavy and thoughtful, somehow ponderous. It felt almost like pressure against his skin or maybe his mind.

Maybe I should change subjects or be quiet, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the thought coming to him almost involuntarily, but then he realized that if he did, Wen Ruohan wouldn’t hear about the three-day conference that had been held in his great-grandparents’ generation that specifically focused on the rules that related to speech. And that would be an awful shame, wouldn’t it?

So he kept going.

He kept up the eye contact, though. The elders didn’t always like that, either – when he did hold someone’s gaze, he would stare too directly and too long, not knowing when it was appropriate to turn away, but he figured Wen Ruohan would simply tell him. He’d reminded him about the eye contact earlier, hadn’t he?

“How old are you?” Wen Ruohan suddenly asked, just as Lan Qiren was taking a deep breath, having finished explaining the conference and about to launch into a discourse on the follow-up texts that had been written in the immediate aftermath.

Lan Qiren blinked, distracted by the apparent non sequitur. “Thirteen,” he said.

Wen Ruohan hummed thoughtfully. “Thirteen. Interesting.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked, bemused. “I think it’s a rather boring age. I’m old enough for more chores, but not old enough to have free access to the library or go on night-hunts on my own.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. His voice was very deep. “I was more commenting on your strength of mind, which is remarkable for your age. I do not recall the age itself,” he said, his tone a little dry. He was ancient, so it was reasonable for him to forget having been thirteen. “Has anyone ever told you about the ways in which cultivation can be used to influence the thoughts and will of others?”

Lan Qiren thought about it. “I think so? There’s a text that says that weak-willed cultivators can be swayed through external pressure wielded by a stronger person’s cultivation, and the larger the power gap between the cultivators, the more effective the influence can be…I don’t remember which text it was, though. I could look up the citation for you when we return –”

“No need. I am not in search of sources.”

Wen Ruohan probably had his own library full of sources, Lan Qiren reflected, and nodded.

“Oh, we’re here,” he said, noticing, and pointed to the flowers. “See, like I told you earlier, it has the characteristic qualities of –”

“Qiren!”

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was his brother’s voice, and he didn’t sound happy.

“Sect Leader Wen,” his brother said, striding into the clearing where they were standing and saluting in a somewhat perfunctory fashion. “I appreciate you taking the time to watch over my younger brother – please forgive him for any impertinence or insult –”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his ears and his whole face was red with shame. He hated how his brother apologized for him before he even checked whether Lan Qiren had even done anything; it was embarrassing that his brother always thought so little of him.

Maybe he wasn’t talented the way his brother was, but he wasn’t that bad, he didn’t think.

“Think nothing of it, Qingheng-jun,” Wen Ruohan was saying in return. “We were merely spending some time together. I assume the serpent demons have been taken care of?”

“Yes, they have,” Lan Qiren’s brother said. “There’s some debate regarding the disposition of the corpses, if you’d like to join in – forgive us both, but I have to take my brother back to make sure he doesn’t miss curfew.”

Curfew wasn’t for another two shichen, so Lan Qiren had no idea what his brother was talking about, but he obediently saluted Wen Ruohan and followed his brother away.

The moment they were out of view, his brother reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing far too tightly, and tugged meaningfully, glaring when Lan Qiren opened his mouth to protest.

Lan Qiren didn’t understand what his brother was trying to convey.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren started to say, and felt his lips abruptly seal together – it was the muting spell. He could break it, of course, being a member of the Lan sect as well, but his brother was his elder; he should wait patiently until he removed it. Still, he was a little indignant that his brother felt the need to use it on him. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong!

(The glare, he thought. The glare must have been a secret message to not speak, and he’d missed it.)

His brother didn’t say anything as they got on their swords, and he didn’t let go of Lan Qiren’s wrist, either, tugging him along as if he thought Lan Qiren was stupid enough to get lost on the way home. A feeling of shame, the sensation of having made some terrible error and not having realized it again, settled in Lan Qiren’s belly and steadily got worse and worse as they traveled.

It wasn’t until they were back at the inn that was housing everyone during the night-hunt that his brother released his hand.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be alone with Sect Leader Wen,” he said, which surprised Lan Qiren – he’d expected his brother to jump straight into listing out all the ways Lan Qiren had embarrassed him at the night-hunt. He hadn’t been expecting his brother to say something like that at all.

“Why not?” he asked, and his brother glared at him. “You didn’t want to babysit me, and I was falling behind. He wanted to see the flowers –”

“He was humoring you,” his brother interrupted. “Everyone always humors you, but no one actually ever cares about whatever nonsense you’re rambling on about this week. Don’t you know that especially powerful cultivators can affect the mind of the weak-willed?”

Lan Qiren blinked. What a strange coincidence, both his brother and Sect Leader Wen mentioning the exact same thing. “Yes,” he said. “I know. In fact –”

“I don’t want to hear another one of your stupid citations,” his brother said, cutting him off, and making Lan Qiren feel stupid and resentful again – he hadn’t even been about to cite anything! “Anyone who’s ever met you can figure out that you’re little better than a half-wit, all right? Wen Ruohan is a petty person, capable of anything, even only on a whim. Don’t spend time alone with him. Consider it another rule.”

“You don’t have the authority to make rules!”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” his brother snapped, and Lan Qiren bowed his head, acknowledging the point. “Now do me a favor and stay here until the conference is over – I should be back with the rest of them, acting in Father’s place as the sects divide up the spoils. I can’t believe I’m here taking care of you again instead.”

Lan Qiren wrung his hands together. He hadn’t intended anything like that. “Xiongzhang –”

“Have I made myself clear?”

“…yes, xiongzhang.”

“Good.” His brother was on his sword and flying back towards the forest before Lan Qiren could even blink. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

Lan Qiren supposed he didn’t have to. It wasn’t like Lan Qiren was going anywhere.

At least, not yet. He was already thirteen – less than ten years and he’d be advanced enough to go anywhere he liked, to be a traveling musician and cultivator the way he’d always planned. He’d be able to help people and spend time with anyone he liked, or not spend time with anyone at all if he didn’t feel like it, and there would be nothing his brother could do to stop him.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #as many of you guessed this is the long one #WRH is not evil #or that evil anyway #very slow burn #LQR's no good very sad backstory #going to post this M W F and other fics in between

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years ago

Text

“lucky ending”

First at all, I like do much your writing and I hope you are doing well. Second, I was wondering what would happen if the MC (Fem!s/o I guess) decided to not go back to her world, like she decide stay with her villain? Can you do make headcanons of this for the dorm leaders? Thank you very much.

-- from Anonymous

A/N: Hi Anon! Sorry for taking so long! Thank you so much for liking my work and for sending in this request! Since this was submitted before I opened my headcanons request, I’ll assume you wanted a scenario! It reminded me of a particular Japanese middle school/high school tradition... I don’t want to spoil it, but I do hope you enjoy it!

edit- additional pieces: ver i (this), ver ii (???), ver iii (rook & lilia)

“Hey, did you know?”

You looked up from your meal to see a grinning Ace.

“Well... you haven’t told me what this is about Ace.” you finally said in a dry tone. “So, no—I wouldn’t.” Beside you, Epel’s lips curled up in amusement.

"Are you sassing me?” Ace squinted at you.

“Who could say.” you shrugged your shoulders. “Anyways, what is it?” Ace studied you for a couple more seconds before he too seemed to ‘shrug’ it off and continue.

“There’s actually a tradition in Twisted Wonderland during graduation season.” Ace’s smile turned wicked, as he raised his hand and tugged at a button on his shirt.

“Please don’t strip. Nobody needs to see that.” you said—Deuce promptly choked on his food and Grim snickered beside you. On his other side, Jack sighed as he patted the man on his back.

“It’s not that!” Ace scowled. “Sweet Queen, if you keep going on like that, I swear—”

“Sorry, sorry.” you raised your hands—palms up. “So, what is it?”

“This button.” he pointed at the second button from the top. “Well, for NRC, they go with the fifth button—but either way...” Sebek leaned forward in interest.

“Is this the button tradition?” his eyes sparkled, “you see, I was thinking of giving—”

“It doesn’t work like that Sebek.” Ace said—at which the Diasomnia student immediately deflated in response.

"People give this out at graduation.” Ace continued. “It’s like the last chance to confess--before you leave the school life behind.”

‘Last chance huh...’ you thought, as you remembered Crowley’s words from the other day.

“In my generosity, I have found a way to bring you back home... but...” the Headmaster peered at you with glowing eyes. “Something tells me you don’t want that anymore.”

“And because I’m so generous... I will let you decide what you wish to do.” his eyes brightened behind his mask. “I hope to hear from you soon...”

"Why not the first button?” you couldn’t help but ask. Ace, who had just finished recounting how many buttons he had given out in his last graduation was startled by your question.

“Err...” Ace scratched the back of his head. “I dunno?”

“It’s the second button, because on the regular school uniform... it’s closest to the heart. Because graduations at NRC are in the summoning robes—that means the fifth button.” Jack finally spoke up, “what normally happens is... someone confesses, and the other party decides whether or not to give the button. When the other party gives their button—it means they return the love of the person who confessed.” Grim’s face twisted at that.

“In conclusion... disgusting.” Epel shrugged his shoulders, before he shot Jack a look. “I’m surprised you, of all people know that.” Jack’s whole body twitched, and his tail bristled in response.

“So. you were being a little shit.” Deuce told Ace.

“Yeah Ace, you’re an asshole.” Grim huffed.

“Not true, all of the people who wanted my heart, got it~” Deuce grimaced in disgust at his roommate’s response. On his other side, Sebek shifted upright.

“I don’t care what you all say, I’m giving—”

“Sebek, no.”

As your friends erupted into chaos your hands fell on top of your second button and you fiddled with it thoughtfully.

“Alright, what is up with you two?” Riddle turned around to glare fiercely at the squabbling Ace and Deuce. At his movement, the long cloak of the summoning robes shifted around his legs.

“Nothing, Dorm Leader!” the two immediately squeaked out, and Riddle sighed—exasperated, but continued to eye them suspiciously. As a fourth year, Riddle had no need to visit campus as often as he did. Ace was already made the Dorm Leader, and Deuce was his Vice Dorm Leader once the two had entered their third years but—

‘I know Trey told me not to worry…’

Cater and Trey had long since graduated from Night Raven College—but the former was still ever so interested in what his friends were doing. He had easily convinced Trey and Riddle to go on call that night to catch up. It was during that call that Riddle had confessed his fears about leaving the fate of Heartslabyul to Ace and Deuce.

“Wow~ Riddle is much more of a mother hen compared to Trey~” Cater had laughed, delighted. Riddle had instantly puffed his cheeks, ready to defend himself. Trey—sensing the argument that was about to come—quickly placated him.

“I don’t think it’s wrong of you to care so much, Riddle.” Trey had said, in his same soothing tone. “You’ve held onto the dorm leadership for three straight years… it’s natural that you worry about how Heartslabyul will do… but… I believe—the dorm will be what our juniors make of it.”

“That’s my worry.” Riddle grumbled in response.

“Well—the two of them did shadow you as Vice-Dorm Leaders during my fourth year, yes?”

“…Yes.”

“I think they know what they can and cannot do by now.” Trey consoled, “Have a little bit more faith in them—after all, you were the one who entrusted the Dorm’s future to them in the first place.”

“I suppose…”

“If all else fails,” Cater chimed in, “[Name] will be there, won’t she?”

“I’d like it if I didn’t have to rely on her for the two of them but…” Riddle unconsciously smiled at the thought of you. “but yeah… she… she certainly had a hand in how Heartslabyul changed to be the way it is today...”

“Ah~ I’m a little jealous you still have an excuse to see [Name]~” Cater hummed.

“I—” Riddle felt his cheeks flush at that, “It’s not like that!”

“Huh~? I didn’t say anything though~” Cater cackled knowingly. Riddle tensed, and Trey only sighed in amusement as the red head began to lecture the older man.

Despite Trey’s (and admittedly, Cater’s weaker) attempts at getting him to be more hands off—he continued to conduct surprise visits to the campus. Primarily to keep a check on both Ace, Deuce and how they were currently running his beloved dorm. He knew it almost always made the two panic, but he just wanted to ensure that—they were doing fine. Riddle worried endlessly—

“I don’t think it’s as surprising as you think.” You had told him once, a giggle on your lips. “Riddle… despite everything… you still genuinely want the best out of people. It’s the way you are.” He had flushed red when you put it that way, but he was incredibly appreciative of the fact that you noticed. He was also happy that you didn’t think it as something he should change immediately.

“Ace and Deuce—I can see why you worry but…” you had patted his hands gently, and shot him the same sweet grin you had given him that time—about two years ago—after his embarrassing Overblot. “You’re also improving yourself. Take it step by step—little by little, and I’m sure one day you won’t think twice about whether or not those two can do justice to the Heartslabyul in your vision.”

Seeing you as often as he did was just a bonus—or so he’d like to think. He hasn’t quite admitted to himself, how incredibly fond he has grown of your presence, and how much some of his visits was more to see you again—rather than visiting his juniors.

He could feel the way his lips unconsciously curled up just at the thought of you. He quickly turned away from his juniors—if only because he could not stop smiling.

“Come to think of it…” he mused, pretending that this was just a thought that came to mind—and not something he’d been eagerly looking forward to— “Where is [Name]?” When there was no response, he felt his smile drop and his brow twitched at their silence.

“Come now—if there’s anytime you’re going to be quiet…” he turned to look at them, only to realize that they had incredibly guilty expressions. “… Is something wrong? Is she hurt?”

“Well—no.” Deuce rapidly stuttered out, “It’s just—well—” he glanced hopelessly at Ace, whose eyes shifted around in an uncomfortable manner.

“Err—it’s a little hard to explain…”

“What is going on?” He demanded, his expression growing dark as he thought back to the last time, he had seen you. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with you—you had greeted him as kindly as you normally had. You had looked healthy to him and nothing had seemed to be weighing too much on your mind… “Tell me right now.”

“Thank you, for coming with me.” You had smiled, “but you can leave me here, really.”

“Do you even know why Crowley called you?” Ace asked, his hands crossed behind his head when he noticed the most subtle shift in your expression.

“[Name]?” he arched a brow, and you shook your head, a smile bloomed on your face at his concern.

“No, it’s… it should be nothing.” You looked down at Grim. “You’ll stay with them, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” The monster scowled. “I don’t know why Crowley wanted just you… It’s not like you won’t tell us after…”

“That’s true.” Deuce had agreed easily.

“I will tell you if it’s important.” Ace’s eyes narrowed at the way you phrased your sentence, and when you slipped into the office—it was only Ace who stayed, his gaze fixated on the door.

“Is something up Ace?” Deuce turned to see that the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader hadn’t moved from his position by the door.

“I think she’s not telling us something.” Ace said, before he approached the door and pressed his ear against it.

“Ace! That’s rude!” Deuce moved to pull him away, but Ace shook him off.

“Sssh! I can’t hear!” he hissed at Deuce before he leaned harder against the door.

“—I have found a way to bring you back home—” Ace and Grim immediately stiffened. Deuce looked on, wary of their reactions.

“What…” he swallowed, “what did you overhear?”

“She still hasn’t said anything.” Ace said after he told a frozen Riddle the story. “and… well… none of us have the heart to bring it up.”

“Well Grim certainly wanted to.” Deuce interjected. “But we figured… it was probably something we should wait for her to say… are you okay, Dorm Leader?”

“You don’t need to call me that.” Riddle replied immediately, before he exhaled. He raised his hand and pressed it against his forehead as he thought of the situation.

‘Of course, …of course, I should’ve thought of it.’ His hand fisted in his hair, as his brows furrowed. ‘This isn’t home to her this is… it’s the farthest thing from a home.’ He felt the blood drain from his face, and the minute shake of his hand at the realization.

Riddle made the two promise to not speak to you about it—and that he’d try to bring it up instead. Deuce looked like he wanted to protest. Riddle could understand—the three of you had a certain type of friendship that should mean that Ace and Deuce had a right to bring it up with you but… Ace had always been much more perspective than he actually let on, and agreed to let Riddle handle it.

Whether Ace understood the depth of Riddle’s feelings or not, was currently inconsequential given the circumstance. What Riddle needed to focus on—was speaking to you about the… issue.

No, it’s wrong to call it an issue—and neither is it a problem… It’s just… perhaps best called a big decision. One that Riddle knew your likely answer to, and how it’s not the answer he would want to hear.

In his defence, ever since coming back, Riddle did try to talk to you about it. He tried very hard to confront you—but whenever he’d try to tell you—he’d take one look at your smiling expression and think about how much he’d like this moment to last longer. ‘Just a little longer… Let me have their smile a little longer—’ because he knew that the moment, he brought it up—you might no longer smile at him.

Unfortunately, time is nobody’s friend—and during a break from his graduation practice, he ran into you.

“Oh, [Name].” he blinked in surprise before his eyes narrowed when he noticed that you weren’t smiling as usual. “Did something happen?” he asked, immediately anxious for you.

“Ah it’s…” you paused, and your expression grew even more distressed. “I don’t… know how to phrase it.” He grew cold at that—he had a general idea on where this conversation could head… Before he could get a word in, the doors to the Hall of Mirrors opened, and a bunch of other fourth years exited noisily.

“Do you want to talk somewhere else about this?” The slightest furrow in his brow, and the tiny down-turn curve of his lips expressed his concern for you. Your heart did a little leap, and you briefly got lost in his pretty grey eyes before you slowly nodded.

Your voice was soft as you explained the turmoil you’d been going through the past few days.

“I… want to stay. I want to stay so badly that I keep coming up with excuses to do so but… at the same time… I know that this means I’ll be abandoning my family… my old life behind and…” you looked down at your hands, and Riddle’s frown only grew as your voice got shaky. “that’s unfair to them—isn’t it? That—I’ll just up… and leave… and say nothing.”

“If you want to stay, then just stay.” You didn’t look to be convinced, and Riddle felt his heart twist that he isn’t enough of a reason for you to stay.

“It sounds so easy, doesn’t it?” you chuckled, your tone low, “maybe my life here is certainly far better than anything else I could dream of but… the guilt will eat me alive. That I just turned away from them… It’s so selfish of me.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong for you to be selfish.” Riddle disagreed as he reached out towards you and held your hands. At the action, your eyes fell to your twined fingers, and you observed the gentle way in which Riddle rubbed the back of your hand. “I think you earned that much. I don’t believe anyone’s ever been in your situation before so—there’s no right or wrong about what you’re doing. It’s all about what you want to do.”

“You think so?” your voice cracked, and he leaned forward so that you could see the honesty in those pretty grey eyes of his.

“I know so… and if you still feel guilty then allow me to bear it with you.” He took a deep breath before he slipped one hand away from you to tug at the fifth button of his summoning robes. Your eyes widened—stunned, as you recognized what he is about to do.

“Let me express to you my own selfish desire.” He pressed the button into your palms as he met your gaze evenly. “I love you [Name]—I want you to stay—so—can I be the reason you do?”

His deep red hair fluttered in the cool wind that passed through the open halls of the college. You could see sweat dribble down his temple, and the smallest shake of his bottom lip. He swallowed; his Adam’s apple bobbed. His own eyes peered and searched your gaze too—for any indicator of the answer you would choose to deem him with.

As you looked at Riddle, you knew that a part of you will always feel guilty about the choice you were about to make but—that honest affection in those eyes were enough for you to know that Riddle, as he is, was always going to be enough of a reason to stay.

“Yes…” you murmured, and Riddle’s nervous expression broke away for a joyous one—an expression that made your heart do a little dance. “Yes—I’d want you to be the reason I stay.”

It took all your courage (and the fact that it was his graduation—Great Seven did he look so good in those robes—) to finally tell Leona about what Crowley had told you.

“Good riddance.”

You felt your face pale, and your soul—shatter at Leona’s reply.

“What… what did you say?” you stuttered, “Did you just really…?”

“I said good riddance.” Leona rolled those green eyes of his at you. “You can finally go home. You can finally stop bothering me.” His eyes turned poisonous—and you felt your whole body weaken. You would have dropped to your knees if Leona’s glare hadn’t frozen you in the first place.

“You…” you swallowed, “you don’t mean that… you don’t… right… Leona…?”

“Good—” his green eyes became murky with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand, “—riddance.” He then scoffed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Now leave me alone.”

“But—”

He began to walk away—but desperate—you grabbed him from behind. Your hands wrapped around his chest, as you clung to him as tight as you could.

“Herbivore... The hell are you doing?” Leona hissed as he moved to rip your hands off him.

“Wait!” He froze at the command in your tone, and the way you pressed your head in between his shoulder blades.

“Let me... let me say something... Please...”

‘Were you crying?’ Leona tensed; his tail flicked about in irritation—ready to confront anyone who made his woman cry—

He hissed at his own thoughts.

“I’m not going to listen to your shit, woman.” He snapped, and he felt you flinch against him. Something deep and primal in him whimpered—because he knew he had terrified you.

He had to convince himself—this is for the best. This is for your sake.

You were not his woman. You were not his mate. You should not have a future with him.

You were supposed to be leaving.

He wanted you to leave.

It would be better that way.

You didn’t deserve the second prince. You didn’t deserve a rebel. You—

You deserved much better than him.

‘So please let me go.’ he thought, a little desperately, ‘because if you don’t... then I won’t be able to let go.’

“Leona... I... I really have no courage. I can’t even look you in the face because I’m...” He growled at that, and he felt you flinch again. “Let me do this...” He felt you move your hands, and you pressed something into his own palms. You curled your fingers around it, before you pulled away.

“I want you to have this. If you won’t let me say anything... then please let me do this.”

There was a brief silence—as you studied the way Leona remained tensed, his tail jerked around in irritation and your eyes shut in despair.

‘Of course... It’s Leona... what was I thinking?’

‘Of course, he wouldn’t want you to stay—of course—’ you realized your own foolishness. ‘Of course, he wouldn’t want you.’

“I’ll go. I’m sorry.” you said before you rushed off, as you tried, desperately not to make a sound as you cried.

Leona’s ears moved rapidly; despite your attempt to not make a sound—he could clearly hear you cry your heart out as you ran away from him.

“Tch…” he looked down at his hands, only for his brows to furrow in confusion. “This is… a button?”

“Does the herbivore…” He lifted his head to look off into the direction you took off in. “does she know what this means…?” His brow twitched in irritation; he pulled his hand back and got into a stance to throw the button away—but something in him couldn’t do it.

‘Are you really going to throw her heart away?’

“Shit!” He swore to himself as he threw a fist at the closest thing he could—one of the trees in the garden. He paused, as his eyes lingered on the patch of grass that he enjoyed taking naps on… with you.

He thought of all the things he would lose—

The way you smiled at him, despite how hopeless he was as a person. The way your skin felt against his own when he could get away with hugging you despite never saying those three words… The way you looked at him with acceptance—regardless of his glaring faults.

He thought of all the things he would never experience—

The way you would suit the crown of a princess—more than any other women he’d known. The way you could glow under the light of Afterglow Savanna’s sun. The love you two could’ve shared if he would just stop being such an asshole—“Stupid woman…” he growled low to himself, as he spun to give chase to you. His hand reached up to rip a certain button off his own robes. “I just can’t be selfless—”

‘Not when it comes to you.’

‘Not when I desperately need you.’

When he pushed open the doors of the Hall of Mirrors, Crowley turned around, startled.

“Kingscholar—?” the Headmaster gaped.

“Is that still connected to her world?”

“Yes but—what are you doing?” Crowley cried, alarmed as Leona rushed for the portal.

‘If there’s a god out there… if the ancestral spirits do exist… then please—’ he faltered at his own thoughts before he shook his head. ‘Please—don’t let me be late—’

“You’re back!” Your mother had only paused for a second, stunned when you popped out of the mirror in the living room, and fell to your knees. She quickly dropped down onto the ground before she reached for you and pulled you into her embrace.

“Mom—I’m—” you felt your eyes tear up, “I’m home—” you said—even if a part of you felt that home should have been two green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a warm patch of sunlight on the grassy ground.

“Oh… sweetie…” Your mother pulled back to cup your face in her hands as she studied your expression. “Never mind that—tell me what happened? I need to hear everything!”

You blinked rapidly and nodded. She brought you to the kitchen and sat you down as she whipped up a snack for you to eat as you recounted your adventures in Twisted Wonderland.

You were—baffled—she didn’t seem as terrified as you thought she would be. You had thought you would’ve come back to her crying—or, you don’t know—police in your house maybe? She was calm—and she was simply… interested in your story.

Like she knew all about it already—and she just… wanted to hear your point-of-view.

When you got to the part about Leona—you got all choked up. Regardless of how he treated you—you knew that a part of you would always love him. If anything—it would be something you would desperately cling onto, and in the depths of your heart—you will continue to nurture it. It was the only thing of him, you had left.

“You loved him.” Your mother held your hands, and you shook your head as you gently corrected her.

“I’ll always love him, mom.” You felt tears hang onto your lashes. “I’ll always… wonder… ‘what if.’”

“Would you go back if you could? Would you stay with him?”

“I… I would but—it’s not like he wanted me.” Your lower lip trembled, and you felt your chin wrinkle at that. “He didn’t want me.”

“I think he did, sweetie.” Your mother wiped your tears away. “Leona is pretty dishonest to others… and especially to himself.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“He pretty much is.” And that’s when it dawned on you.

“Wait you—” you looked up at your mother with furrowed brows. “Why does it sound like you know him—? You—you haven’t met—”

That’s when the door swings open, and your father’s voice echoed in the house.

“We’re back!” You only had a moment to question what he meant by ‘we’ when he entered the dining hall with a familiar figure.

“Leona—?” Both males looked at you—surprised. Despite how happy you were to see both—your eyes naturally gravitated to Leona.

Your eyes met his, and he blinked slowly before a smirk crawled up his lips.

“Took you long enough.”

“Time isn’t exactly linear across two worlds.” Is the first thing Leona told you as he brought you to your room—or more recently referred to as his room. He dragged you onto the bed and pulled you onto his lap with relative ease—his fingers tangled in the cloth of your shirt. The only reason there was a distance between you two—was because of the way you Leona stared at you with a hungry fervour.

He looked at you like he was a starved man who had just caught sight of an oasis in the middle of a desert. There was also a difference in the way he held you—a certain desperation in the way his fingers pressed against your skin—as if making sure that you were no desert mirage. You had just seen him—but it felt as if he was seeing you for the first time in an unbearably long time.

“You entered the portal before I did.” Leona studied you with his vivid green eyes. “but when I went through the portal… I arrived a day after you were first taken to Twisted Wonderland.”

“Wait… so how long… did I miss out on?” you asked weakly.

“It’s been a year.” He replied quietly, and you looked at him—stunned.

“That’s—you—” you cleared your throat. “why?”

“Why what?”

“Why—why wait? Why—why did you stay?” you whispered, “you could’ve just gone back—” He scoffed.

“That’s simple.” He stared at you evenly. “If I hadn’t waited for you I…” he paused. “I might have never seen you again.” You felt your eyes go wet, but you inhaled sharply as you resisted crying. He pulled you even closer to him, his arms wrapped around your waist. Though you tried to move away—it was futile, Leona was stronger than you.

“Why—I thought you said—”

“I tried to be selfless with you.” Leona confessed lightly, his eyes studied your face—the way your eyes glimmered, the way your lips pouted as you attempted to hold back your tears—you hadn’t changed from whence he last saw you but—

Having lived in a world without you for one year—only strengthened his resolve to be with you.

“I tried to be selfless with you.” Leona repeated, “but I’m sorry—I can’t be. I have to be selfish because—the future I want… it’s one I can only realize by your side so—” He moved his hand away from you only to move it to his pocket. When his fist opened, your eyes widened to see an elegant black button on his palm.

“I’ve waited a year to return my heart to you.” He murmured softly, as you began to cry in earnest. “Will you accept it?”

“Of course, I will—you big—asshole—” you cried, as you hit his chest. Leona could only chuckle, as he raised his other hand to brush your tears away.

“I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.”

With your fingers laced with Leona, you went downstairs to meet up with your parents. Your mother cooed happily, while your father nodded gruffly at Leona.

“You promise you’ll take care of her, alright?” Your father eyed him, and Leona nodded.

“I will.” He promised.

“You will visit, won’t you? Or call through the mirror?” Your mother asked hopefully, and you looked at her surprised, before you glanced up at Leona in a questioning manner.

“So, you would never need to choose.” He dodged your gaze; a light flush rose to his cheeks. “I worked with Crowley and Malleus,” your eyes widened—he willingly worked with Malleus? “to establish a proper connection between your world and mine. I kept in contact with the Crowley who let you through the door in the first place… and now we’ve managed to keep the timelines properly linked.” He raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Basically… you’ll be able to keep in contact with your parents… or anyone else you wanted to keep in contact with in this world.”

“Leona…” you felt your eyes water at that.

“Don’t cry.” Leona reached down to wipe your tears away, “cry anymore—and your father will retract his blessing.” You looked at him, a little stunned—he didn’t seem like the type of person who’d ask for someone else’s blessing.

“Of course, I did.” Leona said as he figured out where your thoughts had headed, though he sounded slightly offended that you would think he would not have asked.

“It took him a year too.” Your mother said fondly while your father snorted. Leona swiftly cleared his throat before you could ask again.

“A story for another time.” He said way too quickly, before he offered you his hand again. “For now—” his green eyes softened as he met your eyes, and your fingers instinctively laced together once more.

“Shall we go home?” he gestured for the mirror that begun to glow. You smiled, and quickly jerked on his arm to pull him down. Surprised at the sudden motion, Leona’s face drew close to yours—and you leaned forward to press a kiss against his cheek.

“Silly kitty,” you giggled, “I’m already home.” He speedily pulled back. Despite the grumpy expression on his face, you were delighted to see the flush rise to his cheeks once more.

“And I… I am too.” He murmured softly, and your smile slipped into something much more tender.

You were excited to see what the future would hold for you two.

“Azul.” Azul blinked as he turned his head to the approaching Jade. He arched a brow at Jade’s bemused expression—the man rarely made that face. If Jade ever encountered something he didn’t understand, he was more likely to react to it with curiosity and excitement. So, for Jade to be confused—with the lightest flicker of worry… well, Azul immediately found himself to be anxious.

“What is it?”

“According to one of our juniors, [Name] came by to ask for you earlier—but we were at graduation practice. They redirected her to your office to wait.” Jade’s brows furrowed. “Apparently… she looked quite distressed.” Azul felt himself frown immediately at that.

“I was going there anyways because of this—” Azul raised his hand to present some documents. “I’ll speak with her.” Jade nodded; his expression looked a little bit more relieved.

“I’ll keep Floyd off for awhile then.” Jade decided, “there must be a reason why she specifically seems to want to speak to you.”

“Alright.” Azul agreed, before the two parted ways. He thought back to when he had met you earlier that day—you had been thrilled to see them. Floyd had happily picked you up and spun you around several times—before you needed to be saved by Azul and Jade. Shortly after that, you had to go attend class—at which point they bid you goodbye, with the promise of spending more time together, later.

Azul, Jade and Floyd had just returned to Night Raven College today for the graduation practice. They hadn’t seen you in person for quite a while because their internships took them far away from the College. Azul wasn’t particularly happy with it (none of them were, really—even you) but you had always known how important success was for Azul (especially him) so you had encouraged him to pick what he knew was the best choice for the future.

His heart sped up at the thought of how deeply you understood his feelings—and his desires. At that point, he promised that he would ensure—his future would be spent making you happy and that you would never be left wanting.

You will get the best from him because he knows how much you deserve it.

You deserved so much better than him—he knew that—he’s accepted it as an irrevocable truth. However—you had chosen to stay by his side, despite his past—and despite his inexcusable actions.

“Azul… I think you shouldn’t be ashamed of your past.” Your voice resonated in his mind, and he’s instantly brought back to that time the two of you quietly stood in front of his elementary school photo.

“After all, it’s because of that Azul—that you’ve become the Azul I see today and…” You turned to him with a tender smile that instantly made his heart soar like a flying fish and his eyes well up with tears.

“I think you should know—that the Azul before me today, is not as terrible as you like to believe.” Then you giggled, and his cheeks flushed red at your next words.

“It’s quite the opposite actually—you’re someone I can’t help but watch because… I think you’re amazing.”

So, he was going to do his best for you.

He was an inherently selfish person.

You were someone he wanted to hold onto for as long as possible. He knew that maybe one day you’ll realize that he wasn’t worth it. He knew that it will hurt him—but he also knew that if that day comes, he wouldn’t stop you.

He’d let you go.

As selfish as he was—he knew you deserved for him to be selfless for once. Especially if it meant you being happier.

It would hurt so much but—knowing how much better you could probably have—he would do it.

‘While you’re by my side…As long as you’re in my life… for however long I’m allowed too…’

Until the day that someone … or something—that was inarguably the better choice for you comes along—

‘I’ll treasure you… take care of you… treat you like a Queen—’

He stopped right before his office doors, and briefly fiddled with his hair. He inhaled, before he pushed the doors open. You turned to look at him with a despondent expression.

“Azul.” You hiccupped, and his heart dropped to his stomach at seeing your tears. There’s a part of him that immediately goes into a cold fury—‘How dare anyone make you cry—’

“Shh… It’s alright.” He slid the door closed behind him, dropped the paperwork carelessly onto the ground and opened his arms.

You immediately took it as an invitation to delve into his arms. Your breath was shaky, but Azul’s familiar and fresh ocean scent immediately calmed you down. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and he rubbed one hand consolingly down your back. He slowly led you to sit down on the couch, and let you stay in his arms as he plotted a way to get back at whoever it was that made you show such a sad expression.

Once you pulled away, he immediately pulled out a handkerchief to pat away the wet tear tracks across your face.

“Are you alright?”

“I… yeah… just… I was… overwhelmed.” You said, breath still heavy. "I have something to tell you.” Azul hummed, as he moved to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“The Headmaster... he’s found a way.”

“A way...?” Azul cocked his head, not quite understanding what you meant.

“...”

“...” At the sudden silence, Azul raised his head to see you look down at your hands. He noticed that you were trembling ever so slightly. Azul narrowed his eyes at such an action.

“[Name]?”

You looked up; your eyes were glassy—with one blink you would probably start crying again. He could see the minute tremble of your jaw.

“I can go home, Azul.”

“That’s...” Azul blinked rapidly—stunned but at the same time—his heart tightened in his chest, and he automatically clenched his fists.

‘Ah…’

‘I didn’t think it would happen so soon…’

‘I didn’t think I’d have to let go of you so quickly…’

‘I don’t want you to go.’

Azul was selfish—he has always known that he was selfish... but with you... he always tried to not be.

He would be selfless with you.

He promised himself that much.

You had always been more than what he deserved—so how could he ask you to stay with him?

Knowing that—he knew what he had to say to you.

“You must be happy.” He finally managed to speak, and he prayed that you didn’t realize how shaky his voice got. He was barely able to keep himself from crying too. “You will go home, won’t you?”

“Is that it?” you asked, heartbreak in your voice but he gritted his teeth in response.

“Well... what else did you want me to say?”

“I...” you stood up; your breath shaky.

‘I wanted you to give me a reason to stay.’ went unsaid.

“... Nothing. I just... came here to tell you.” you finally said, your voice soft. “I’ll... see you later Azul.” You turned quickly—but not fast enough for him to not see the tear that slipped down your cheek as you escaped Mostro Lounge’s VIP Room.

“...”

Azul laced his hands together, before he rested his forehead against his hands. A whimper left his lips, as he began to shake in his seat.

“Tch...”

His heart squeezed tight—and he idly wondered if this was the type of feeling that Floyd’s victims got. It hurt—it hurt so much. Azul’s pathetic whimpers turned into guttural sobs. His fingers spread to cover his eyes—and his glasses slid off his face, down to his lap and then to the ground—at his actions. His whole body shook as he cried his heart out.

The one time he tried to be profoundly good—

The one time he tried to be selfless—

It was only right that he felt this much pain over it—after all—he always believed that he deserved it.

He struggled to remind himself how much this was for your sake. How this was better for you. Even if you began to hate him for it (and witch, did the thought of you despising him made another disgusting whimper slip out of his lips—), he’ll watch over you—only the best for you.

When you rushed out of the room, you immediately slammed right into the twins. They are both briefly stunned by your expression, but just as quickly, you clung onto the closest twin—in which case, it was Floyd. The man immediately wrapped his arms around you. He began to coo comforting words to you as he shot a look at his twin. Jade’s eyes flickered between you and Azul’s shut door, before he ultimately decided to shuffle you and his brother into a nearby room. Once you were sat down, Jade quietly coaxed the story of what happened out of you.

Through your tears, you tell him. You grow a little terrified as both twins gain a quiet look of rage almost identical with Azul’s earlier expression at your tears. The two share a look, and Floyd almost immediately got up—until you stop him.

“Please… don’t be mad at Azul…” you muttered, “I… I don’t think he means it.”

You remember the expression Azul made. First—there was fear, pain—before it shifted to something more like acceptance.

You don’t understand.

Why wouldn’t he think he was worth it?

He had always been selfish—and you wanted him to be selfish with you—and yet—

“You must be happy.”

He had said, but you had immediately caught the slightest bit of wetness that had began to well up in his blue eyes. You had noticed the way he had stiffened, the way his breath and voice hitched as he did his best to hide from you what you were truly feeling—

Jade and Floyd exchanged another glance, before coming to the same conclusion.

“Listen [Name].” Jade reached and cupped your chin in a delicate manner. “Here’s what we’ll do…”

When Azul finally exited his office, he had to fix his robes, and his make-up—if only to keep his unflappable façade as Azul Ashengrotto of Octavinelle. What he didn’t anticipate was to be immediately blocked by the Leech twins.

“Ah. There you two are.” Azul cleared his throat, his voice still scratchy from the amount of crying he just did. “There are some things we need to do—” Floyd slammed a hand against the wall right next to Azul’s head, before he leaned closed—his eyes dark as he studied the octopus merman in front of him.

“Shrimpy ran by here. She was crying.” Floyd’s eyes narrowed, and Jade sighed from behind him. “What did you do?”

“Apparently, the dear girl is being offered a chance to go home.” His voice trembled at the last word, but he held fast to his belief that this is the best choice for you. “I congratulated her on it.”

“Why?” Floyd hissed, “why would you—Azul—”

“It was only logical to assume so.” Azul said in response. “I presumed she wished to go home.”

“What… makes you think she wouldn’t want to stay here?” was Jade’s quiet query.

“It’s obviously the better choice for her to go. There’s nothing for her here.” Both twins blinked, a little awed that Azul—their selfish, greedy Azul—just said that.

“… There’s nothing here worth staying for. Not for her at least.” Azul said—at the sight of their expressions. “I’m sure—she’ll be happier in her home world. She should have never even come here.”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

He wondered what it would have been like to have lived in a world where he had no concept, no idea of you. He shuddered immediately—he would rather always be able to remember you. If he could not have you, then he would cup the memories you shared together in his palms and hold on as tight as he could.

Floyd let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Is that truly what you believe?” Jade’s eyes narrowed, “that there’s nothing for her here?”

“You can’t sincerely believe that!” Floyd snarked, his expression twisted in displeasure. “The Azul we know—he would be selfish.”

“Don’t you see?” Azul, fed up, finally yelled, “It’s because I’ve always been selfish with her that I should be selfless for once.” He gritted his teeth aggressively.

“Of course, I want her to stay! I practically need her to stay.” He inhaled sharply, as he looked at the twins with wet eyes—frustrated that, as per usual, he had lost control of his emotions and tears. “But I also need to acknowledge that it may not be the best choice for her! So, I don’t want her to consider me when she’s making this decision—It’s not about me. It’s about her.” He exhaled, a part of him satisfied that he had managed to stun the twins once more… that is until Jade let out a soft chuckle and stepped aside to reveal that you were standing right behind him. Floyd stepped back, while a snicker escaped his lips.

“Azul.” You peered at him with wet eyes, and he tensed.

“You two—” Azul looked up to glare at the twins, who shrugged easily as they retreated away.

“Azul… why do you think like that?”

“…” He looked away, he didn’t want to answer, but when he felt your soft hands cup his face so that you could direct him to look at you—seeing that familiar look in your eyes—the one that told him how badly you wanted to understand him—instantly made him soften. “I always think about it… you deserve better. Better than me.”

“Azul… you need… to stop thinking of yourself like this. I love you.” You added, and his eyes widened, “Regardless of what you think—I think the best option for me… is to be by your side Azul.”

“You… really think that?” his voice shook, and you sniffled too.

“Of course, I do! Even if you didn’t want me… or need me…” you lower lip trembled, and Azul wanted to kiss your worries away. “I would cling to you as tightly as possible—it hurts but—I’d stay. You’re always going to be worth it for me.” Azul’s whole body quivered, and without thinking his hand slid onto a button on his blouse. He took one of your hands off his face to press a button onto your palms.

“You have my heart.” He murmured, voice soft, and his eyes moist. “and you have my future… if you’ll let me share them with you.”

“It’s a deal, Mr. Ashengrotto.” You said, your own eyes pricked with tears—and he let out a little chuckle.

He will continue to do everything in his power to always—remain—the best option for you.

“What a couple of cry-babies.” Despite Floyd’s tone, a pleased smile made its way to his lips.

“Our cry-babies.” Jade murmured, a familiar smirk plastered on his own face as he watched you and Azul bawl into each other’s arms.

You were, once more, invited to Scarabia’s annual graduation party for their fourth-year students. It was… one of their grander parties and it was hardly the first one you had ever attended since befriending their Dorm Leader two years ago.

However—what made this party different from the others you’ve attended so far, was because a part of the graduating batch were your friends—Kalim and Jamil. The very fact Kalim was graduating, made the Asim family decide to sponsor this year’s party. This meant that even as far as grand parties would go—this year’s party blew the past other parties away in terms of extravagance. There were a lot of people (guests of the graduates), food (completely catered—for sure Jamil slunk away a little miffed that he didn’t get to cook), music (hired by the Asims) and dancing (right in the centre of the room too!)

It was incredibly beautiful—and just… something you have never believed you would have had the chance to experience. You expressed as such to Kalim, who, with a grin—laced his fingers with yours as he pulled you straight to the dance floor. His warm hand landed on the curve of your waist before he began to lead you in a complicated dance. You let out a few squeals here and there—especially because dances native to the Land of Hot Sands were quick, and nothing like you’ve experienced before. Kalim only grinned happily as he twirled you around then rapidly pulled you back into his arms. You could feel your cheeks flush red as you were pressed up against the man’s well-defined chest.

“Isn’t this fun, [Name]?” Kalim let out a boisterous laugh as he continued to spin with you at the centre of the celebration. His dark summoning robes shined under the opalescent light of the room.

“Yeah…” your eyes flickered away briefly, before landing back on his face. Luckily, Kalim had not noticed your slightest hesitation—nor the fact that you were lying.

It wasn’t that you weren’t enjoying yourself—you always enjoyed any moment you could spend with Kalim—that was the truth but—

You could feel the countless dark stares that many of the eligible young women of Twisted Wonderland shot as you hogged Kalim’s attention. Ever since you had arrived at the party, Kalim had happily, and staunchly stayed by your side throughout it—eagerly sharing with you details from the Land of the Hot Sands.

It made you… nervous… insecure.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Kalim cocked his head to the side, bright red eyes curious—but you didn’t want him to feel upset on such an important day for him.

“It’s really nothing.” As the music finished, you pulled away. “I do think I’m a little tired… So, I think I’ll go rest back at the table.” He gave you a worried look.

“Are you sure?” he cocked his head in an innocently curious manner that made your heart hum in pleasure of his concern. “You’re my friend, [Name]! So, I want to make sure you’re well!”

‘You’re my friend.’

‘You’re just a friend.’

You felt your lips tightened at such a damning sentence, and you quickly looked away.

“Yeah, I just…” you paused, “maybe you can dance with someone else?” you suggested—even if you wished with all your heart that he’d notice how you were truly feeling.

“Oh! That’s a great idea!” Kalim beamed brightly, before he turned around and happily waved his arms. “Who wants to dance with me next?”

In an instant, the Asim Heir was surrounded by gorgeous women, and you were elbowed out of the crowd.

“Oof.” You grasped at your stomach after you were harshly pushed away, and some of the ladies at the outermost part of the circle, sniffed haughtily at you before they turned away.

You stood there for a moment, as you wondered if it would be too late to fight your way through the crowd to reach his side but… You watched Kalim offer his hand to one of the beautiful women. Something in you lurched, and you could not bear to watch so you quickly retreated to your seat—you felt like a coward.

Your table was devoid of your year mates now. Grim was hanging around with Deuce near the buffet table. Ace and Epel, on the other hand, were incredibly popular and seemed to be dancing with some other women too. Ace looked pleased, but Epel’s expression practically begged for someone to get him out of there. Jack on the other hand, claimed that the noise was too much for him, and had eagerly retired to his dorm. You let out a small giggle, as you briefly met Epel’s suffering gaze, before he and his partner turned again. In the process, your eyes landed on the ever cheerful Kalim… and his incredibly enthusiastic partner.

The woman had herself pressed up against his body and seemed to be saying something right into his ear… but judging from her slightly frustrated expression—whatever she was saying had no effect on Kalim.

“In my generosity, I have found a way to bring you back home... but...” the Headmaster peered at you with glowing eyes. “Something tells me you don’t want that anymore.”

You frowned as that memory, unbidden, returned to the forefront of your mind. You were supposed to tell Kalim about it but… Your eyes flickered up to see him dance away with the woman.

You doubted you would get the chance to do so now.

Which you definitely… did not do on purpose.

You just—did not know—

How does one bid goodbye to the sun?

As the music ended, the same hoard of women surrounded Kalim once more. Despite the pang in your heart—you couldn’t help the exasperated but fond sigh that left your lips as you see Kalim smile cheerfully at them all.

Not at all bothered.

Still of a kind heart.

The way he was right now…

‘He truly is the sun.’ you thought, you looked around and you noticed—that everyone was paying attention to Kalim. Their gaze fixated and focused on Kalim’s next actions.

‘Everyone here is a heavenly body, orbiting the brilliant sun.’

Kalim had always had a sense of magnitude to him—always had a spark that attracted everyone… even those who were never meant to stay.

‘And I’m a meteor off course.’

Your eyes hazed over and watered immediately at the realization of your position.

‘I cannot stay.’

You ducked your head frantically—as you felt the inevitable spill of your tears down the curve of your cheeks.

‘I have no place here… no place to stay.’

No one ever willingly bids goodbye to the sun.

They spend the rest of their lives trying to find the right way back to it.

And you know the path you must walk will take you universes away from the one sun that you wished you could orbit around for eternity.

You choked briefly, and instinctively grabbed a nearby napkin to dab at your face. You were glad Grim was enjoying the festivities at the table across—had he been with you, everyone would have probably noticed your complete breakdown.

You sniffled quickly and froze as a hand that held out a handkerchief, entered your line of sight. Your eyes traced the tanned forearm, up the toned arm, before your gaze was caught by deep dark eyes.

Jamil stared at you with a frown on his face as he pressed the handkerchief into your hands. You flinched, startled, before you grabbed it.

“Thanks.” You stuttered, voice low, and Jamil gazed at you unflinchingly.

“You’re thinking of going home.” He murmured in that soft spoken, delicate tone of his. “No… you’re already going home.” His eyes narrowed, and under the candlelight of Scarabia’s halls—the shadow of the flames licked his face and made his dead, calm expression somehow… even more terrifying than usual.

“Please… don’t look at me like that.” You bowed your head, as some of your tears slipped down your knuckles. You could hear Jamil sigh.

“You’re going to break his heart.” Jamil murmured, his voice as cool and collected as ever.

“How can I break something… that I’ve never held in the first place…?” You muttered as you lifted a golden goblet up to your lips. Jamil shot you an unimpressed stare at that.

“Regardless of what you believe,” Jamil pursed his lips. “You will hurt him.”

“It’s not going to last.” You said in defence. “He’ll move on…” you looked up; tears got caught in your lashes as you blinked rapidly. “He’s going to meet people even more amazing… Like someone who …”

‘Someone who will suit him.’

‘The best person that he could be with.’

“I’m sure of that.” You tried to sound convincing—but you couldn’t truly—not when your heart believed otherwise.

“… That… isn’t something that you alone can decide.” Jamil’s eyes slid to Kalim. The man was burning as bright as ever in the centre of the room. “Kalim should have a say in that as well.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one saying that.” It was wrong of you to say that. It was—without a doubt—a low blow. Judging from the most miniscule of movement above Jamil’s brow—you had guessed he thought the same.

He didn’t blow up and instead, the man sighed deeply as he picked up his own golden goblet for a drink. You look down onto the handkerchief that you clenched in your hands.

“Jamil…” you did not look up, and instead your hand reached for your own pocket. “would you… give him this letter?” you pulled out a wrinkled envelope—one you had penned immediately after learning from Crowley that you could go home.

You… you couldn’t bear the thought of watching Kalim get sad.

You had always figured that if something like this came up you would tell him in a letter instead.

So, that you would never have to face his sadness or his tears.

“… You’re a coward.” Jamil said quietly, before he grabbed the envelope anyways.

You don’t say anything.

He was right of course.

You were just a coward—as you frantically cupped your heart in your hands in the hopes that it would not burn away into nothingness.

“Then,” Crowley peered down at you with glowing eyes. “Are you ready?”

You had to drag your eyes away from the doorway—that you had stared at whilst you wondered if anyone would run after you.

Though you knew nobody would.

It had been what you wanted in the first place.

You didn’t want… you hated seeing people get sad. So—you had chosen to write letters to all your friends… and you had set them in places you’re sure they’d see. It was so selfish of you but—

You remember Kalim’s tears when Jamil had overblotted, two years ago…

‘It’s better this way.’ You reassured yourself before you looked at Crowley.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You tried to smile, and something about the way Crowley tilted his head made you feel as if he pitied you. He chose not to say anything, and instead the Headmaster gestured to the glowing mirror.

You took one step toward the mirror before the door behind you dramatically burst open.

“[NAME]!” Your heart stopped at the voice, and you turned around to see that Kalim was standing right there—his hands on his knees as he panted in exhaustion.

“Ka…lim… why…” your eyes caught sight of a Jamil who slowly dragged his feet into the Hall of Mirrors before your line of sight was completely blocked out by Kalim’s red eyes.

“[Name]! Why—why are you leaving?” His lower lip wobbled, and your heart wrenched itself at the fact that you were the cause of such an expression. “And you didn’t even tell me—have I—are we not friends? Is that not enough reason for you to stay?” His expression looked so genuinely heartbroken, but you snapped into attention at his words.

“The thing is Kalim…” you tried to avoid his gaze. “It’s exactly because we are friends that I… that I cannot stay.” You managed to force out.

“What? Why?” he gaped at you, and your frustration at the situation made tears begin to slip out of your eyes.

“Because I love you, you idiot!” you practically yelled, uncaring of your audience. Kalim gaped at you.

“But—but—I love you too!” Your heart quickened at his statement, but you frantically shook your head.

“No, you don’t—you love me—as a friend.” You emphasized, “and I can’t stay knowing that—you need to end up with someone… better than me—”

“I mean it [Name]!” honesty shone in those red eyes. There was a flicker of desperation in those eyes before he quickly fell to his knees in front of you. You gaped at him in surprise as he reached for his chest.

Snap.

He looked up at you, as he stretched out his hand to offer you the gleaming button.

“I love you [Name].” He met your eyes head on—and the seriousness in that gaze of his made an exquisite shiver run down your spine. “So—won’t you marry me?”

As the graduation ceremony in the Mirror Chamber concluded, Vil and Rook exited first out of all the Pomefiore fourth years. They quickly approached their Pomefiore juniors, who were all, enthusiastically cheering for them.

"Congratulations Senior Schoenheit! Congratulations Senior Hunt!”

Epel shuffled forward and offered the two seniors a big bouquet of brilliant red roses each.

“Oh~ They are beautiful~ Merci, Epel.” Rook took the bouquet with a pleased expression, and happily sniffed the roses. “and very fragrant too~”

“You were so impressive, Senior Schoenheit! You got so many awards!” said one particularly awed junior.

“Naturally.” Vil inclined his head, as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of the roses. Around him, his juniors continued to give bouquets to his fellow seniors. Disinterested in that—his eyes flickered around in a slow pace... looking for...

Vil frowned behind the rose bouquet when he could not catch sight of you.

‘Now, where could you have gone, sweet potato?’

“Er...” Vil glanced back down at Epel, to see him quickly flicker his eyes in a direction.

‘I see.’

“Excuse me.” he murmured underneath his breath before he proceeded to move away from the Pomefiore gathering, down the path Epel had signalled him too.

“Congratulations Vil. I mean—I guess you didn’t need it but--ah... no... I’m saying this all wrong...” he heard you before he saw you. His glossed lips curled up in an amused smirk at the sound of you practising your congratulatory message. Vil turned the corner to see you seated at a bench in the middle of the open courtyard. Unlike him, you were dressed properly in your version of the school uniform. You had furrowed brows, a wrinkled nose and pouted lips as you stared into a bouquet of what looked to be dark coloured flowers. He almost called out to you when you began to speak to yourself again.

“Hi, [Name] here. I wanted to congratulate you and also... tell you... Agh! Is this really the time to tell him about that? God... I don’t want to...”

“Don’t want to what?” You jumped in your seat. You turned your head quickly, only to immediately loose both your train of thought and breath at the sight of him.

It was not the first time you had seen Vil in the summoning robes—he had been one of those students that had immediately caught your eye during that entrance ceremony—all those years ago.

But...

It was like seeing him for the first time—if that made sense.

His light blonde hair twisted into loose lavender waves that accentuated his sharp but delicate features. The sheer brilliance of his violet eyes in contrast to the paleness of his lashes were further accentuated by the dark make up that no one else but Vil Schoenheit could possibly hope to pull off. His lips were glossed gently with that pale lavender colour that had you dying. How long have you dreamed of kissing those lips? Smearing that lavender colour across his cheek? Ruining him, the way he’s ruined you?

How could you ever hope to fall out of love with Vil Schoenheit?

How could you ever hope to fall in love with someone else, after Vil Schoenheit?

He approached you slowly, with an elegant countenance only heightened by the way his robes swirled around him.

“Sweet potato?” He arched a fine brow. You were still silent despite that he had taken the seat next to you. While he may draw pleasure from the way he made you speechless, your earlier words still held fast to his curiosity. You snapped into attention after you realised that you had been staring for quite a while at him.

“T-That is—Senior Vil! Congratulations on your graduation!” you stuttered out as you simultaneously offered to him the bouquet in your arms. You peered up at him worriedly, and promptly got distracted by the way his long lashes tangled briefly as he blinked.

“Roses as well?” he tilted his head, pale blonde hair curled gently around his cheeks. You paused and saw that he also had a bouquet of vivid, red roses in his arms.

“Oh! Um! How presumptuous of me... I didn’t mean... that is to say...” he always turned you into a nonsensical fool. It was impossible to string words into sentences when everything would fall away in the face of Vil. He stared at you, bemused, as you babbled. “Sorry, I suppose you wouldn’t want this—Right, that’s that—I can just—”

“I did not say that.” Vil’s slender shoulders shook in laughter. Vil dropped the bouquet of red roses he had already been holding, to take the bouquet you offered him. He peered at it gently and noticed that what he had originally thought were black roses were actually—not. As he moved it under the light of the sun, the roses would shift between a dark violet or a deep blue. His breath caught in his throat. Red roses were—no doubt—classic. They were beautiful—but this bouquet you gave him… the roses were bewitching.

“What colour are they meant to be?” he finally asked as he leaned down to inhale the familiar, comforting scent of roses.

“What do you see?” At that, he looked up at you with a curious expression. You looked back, eager to hear what he thought.

“I can see violet and blue toned colours... they also seem to be black in some angles.”

“Oh.”

“Are they not meant to be like that?”

“No, no they are... I asked ah... Professor Crewel to help me breed these type of roses... It’s amazing what magic can do for plants.” you admitted, his eyes flickered quickly between you and the bouquet.

“You bred these... specifically?”

“Ah... yeah... back home...” you struggled briefly, “there were these roses that were either bred or coloured to look pink and yellow. I wanted to make ones that were violet or blue. Thanks to magic, it’s possible to actually create these.”

“Why?” he scrutinised your expression as you quickly flushed.

“Er... That’s because I couldn’t choose between either of the colours.” You said quickly as you licked your chapped lips—momentarily realising that you had forgotten to bring your lip balm. ‘Vil is looking at me, and I’m horrendously ugly. What hasn’t changed?’ you bemoaned to yourself.

“I figured... Pomefiore colours, yeah?”

You watched as he studied the way the colours of the rose petals would shift in the light. You were happy to note that there was a little glow of awe in those violet eyes, and—what you hoped was delight. His expression quickly shuttered after you noted that they were Pomefiore colors, and he dragged his gaze from the deep coloured roses to glance at you.

“You know sweet potato... lying isn’t very attractive.” he said, nonchalant, and you froze.

“What... lying?” you chuckled nervously. His eyes narrowed briefly, and you winced.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” You quickly avoided his gaze as you felt your eyes immediately begin to go wet, “Sweet potato, look at me.” You inhaled sharply as you slowly turned your head to face him again. You chewed nervously on your lower lip, and his eyes narrowed again.

“Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” you knew he was referring to your habit of chewing on your lower lip.

“Well?”

“... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice until... later.” you finally admitted. “though who am I kidding—I wanted you to know... I wouldn’t have given that to you if I hadn’t wanted you to know that...”

“Violet roses mean ‘love at first sight’.” Vil murmured softly, “Blue roses mean ‘impossible love’... and Black roses have so much meaning... just what are you trying to say with this bouquet, [Name]?” you flinched as he named all the colours that appeared in the bouquet.

“Black roses... I... this is also me saying... goodbye.” Vil froze, as he turned to you quickly, his eyes turned even sharper.

“What are you going on about?”

“Headmaster Crowley... he found a way for me to go back.” you swallowed, “and... I think I’ll go.”

“And what about the violet and blue roses? Will you ignore what you just told me?” Vil demanded, and you looked away—unable to look at him—because you know that if you do, your resolve will falter.

“That’s... I just... I wanted to confess. To get all these feelings out because I know... I know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled, but you held fast and tight onto your resolve.

‘Just let it out. Get it out of your system and... and maybe you could start again.’

“Why do you believe it’s impossible?” You hear Vil sigh, exasperated. “For the Queen’s sake—look at me [Name].”

“No, look at me.” you snapped back, and he recoiled briefly at the sudden flash of anger. "I’m more than aware that we...”

‘We have no chance. I, of all people—know that. It’s just some dream I cooked up in my head.’

“Look at us.” you said, miserable. “I... you’re so beautiful... and amazing... and I’m just... me. How could I ever suit someone like you? How could I make someone like you, happy?”

“You will stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Putting yourself down the way you’re doing right now.” He replied, “and look at me when I’m speaking to you, [Name].” You feel a soft, gentle hand cup your cheek, and move it to face him. Vil had a frown on his face—and while he never looked less pretty because of it, you still hated that you were the cause of it.

“[Name]... you...” he paused, sighed before he dropped the bouquet of dark coloured roses down onto his lap and raised a hand to his uniform.

Snap.

Your eyes widened as you watched Vil rip a button off from his uniform before he offered it to you.

“Vil—that—you—” you stuttered. You remembered him talking about the importance of the uniform, and he was the last person you would ever imagine, who would actually—

“What normally happens is... someone confesses, and the other party decides whether or not to give the button. When the other party gives their button—it means they return the love of the person who confessed.” Jack’s voice echoed in your head.

“There’s a tradition at graduations in this world.” Vil began gently as he placed it in your hands, “when one person confesses—the other can chose to—”

“Give them a button.” you murmured and Vil tilted his head to the side in surprise.

“You know of it?”

“The others... Jack... told me.” you mumbled, “but this... Vil... you...”

“My happiness will not be dictated by others—no, Vil Schoenheit is a person who will grasp happiness with his own hands.” He leaned towards you and pressed his forehead against you. His eyes softened as your eyes watered and the tears began to spill. “I’m giving you this button because I’ve already found happiness by your side. Nothing you say will change that so...” He brushed your tears away with the thumb of his hands, and you found yourself lost in the gentle affection in those violet eyes.

“Won’t you stay with me?” Those lavender lips curled—and you’ve never ever wanted so badly to kiss someone in your life, “I’m not a generous person, [Name]. You can only answer yes… or yes.”

“Ah—[Name]!” Ortho signalled for you to come close quickly. You moved to the boy’s side, before he gestured for you to peak into Idia’s room. You had expected to see Idia as he fiddled away with his computer—as per usual. To your surprise however—Idia was in fact—just stared off into space. You gaped at him, before you peered down at Ortho who nodded worriedly.

“Big Brother’s been like that for a while.” You could hear the frown in Ortho’s voice. “I don’t know what to do—not even his games can pull him out of it.”

“Really?” at the disbelief tone, Ortho looked up at you with wide golden eyes.

“Really!” he nodded, his fiery hair bobbed at his movement. “He hasn’t touched a single game in a while! He’s actually gone to some of his classes—well I still needed to bring him there—but he didn’t resist like usual… In fact, he didn’t complain at all! He’s even gone to graduation practice! That’s why he’s—” Ortho gestured at his outfit, and you realized that Idia was, in fact, dressed in the summoning robes.

“What do I do?” Ortho asked, and you knew if he could cry—he probably already would be.

“I’ll… I’ll try to talk to him. You can stay here, alright?” Ortho nodded, and with a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

Idia, on the other hand, still stared off into empty space—unable to register anything. All he could do was think about what had got him so distracted.

Crowley had bothered him too much about graduation—and Idia just simply… didn’t want to think about it. Unluckily for Idia, the Headmaster could become incredibly annoying when he wanted to be. Whenever Idia just wanted to brush aside the issues—Crowley only pressed him even more. At his wit’s end, Idia had thought to mess around with his computer… or something. Perhaps jam Crowley’s ability to connect to Idia—or even better—plant something that will hear his secrets… (‘I sound like Azul,’ Idia had even despaired briefly).

It was as he hacked his way into Crowley’s system in the Headmaster’s office that Idia had accidentally listened into a particular conversation that he sorta wished he remained oblivious too.

“You asked for me?” Idia had jostled in his seat when he heard you speak. He rapidly looked around his room—wondering if you had made it in without him realizing (again). He had an excuse on his lips—ready to be said if you wondered what he was doing. (He had a feeling ‘annoying Crowley because he wants me to physically attend graduation’ might not up your support levels together much.)

“Ah yes [Name]! Please! Do come in! And sit, sit! For I am gracious.” Idia whirled around to look at his monitor. With some rapid taps onto his keyboard, he was able to get a visual of Crowley’s office. He quickly recognized your form from behind.

‘What are you doing in Crowley’s office?’ Idia thought. He didn’t need to wonder too long however because his question was quickly answered.

“My dear girl, I’ve done it!” Crowley said rather cheerfully, “For I am gracious!”

“That’s… great?” Idia could imagine your cute, confused expression. You made it often enough whenever he tried to explain anything about the games he played. Though your worlds bore many similarities when it came to consoles—there were minute differences that often slipped your mind. He let out a soft giggle at that—you were adorable, and just having thoughts about you made his mood all better.

“That’s great.” You had repeated slowly, “but ah… I’m confused—what is this about, Headmaster?” you inquired, genuinely sounding like you had no idea what he was talking about.

‘Maybe I should go off. I don’t want to listen in and… I’m sure she’ll tell me whatever it is about—yeah?’ Idia nodded to himself, and just as he’s about to click the button that would cut off the audio—

“Well, what else could it be about my dear girl~?” Crowley had cackled, “In my generosity, I have found a way to bring you back home—”

Idia’s hand slammed down on the keyboard in shock, as he began to choke. He stared at his black screen in shock—not sure how to feel about what he had just heard.

‘You’re going home?’

He shouldn’t… have been as surprised as he was really.

He remembered that day, around two years ago, when you were first isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. He knew that the plan had always been to send you home as soon as Crowley actually found a way to do so but…

As he spent time with you—he had gradually forgotten.

No, he didn’t forget—he—

Put it out of his mind.

He was so caught up in enjoying the time he had with you, that it had slipped his mind that it wasn’t permanent. That it wasn’t something that could last for as long as he wanted.

He knew that you always had your past world—your family, friends, and life—in your thoughts. He would too—if he were suddenly isekai’d in some foreign world where he had nothing.

So, Idia thought little of the possibility that you would remain in this world any longer. He knew—

He knew you’d want to go home because—

“What would keep you here?”

“What would keep who here?”

Idia yelped and leapt off his chair at the sound of your voice. He turned around to see you, as you peered at him with an amused smile. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled.

‘This is illegal—! You shouldn’t have power over me like this!’ He wailed inwardly, ‘Especially when—’ He let out a strangled noise as you pressed a warm, soft hand against his forehead.

“You don’t seem sick…” you mused, and you tilted your head in a way that Idia squealed at. You were just… so cute. Perfect waifu material for sure—you were kind—always so kind to him, and always willing to understand him in ways no one else ever was able to do. Ortho loved you too—

“Idia?” you leaned closer, and Idia frantically moved back. A wire made him trip backwards, and he let out a pained grunt at that.

“Oh no—are you okay?” He raised a hand to prevent you from drawing any closer.

“I’m okay!” he squeaked out, “I’m fine—just—give me a moment—”

“Alright.” You drew back, and with little hesitation, you chose to sit down on his bed as you watched Idia slowly stand upright. He patted his behind and winced—at which you let out a soft giggle. After a few more moments, Idia shuffled to sit right beside you. He fiddled with his sleeves awkwardly, his eyes flickered away—and back to you.

“Why—why are you staring at me like that?” he finally managed to say, and you smiled.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the summoning robes.” You said, “they suit you. You’re very handsome Idia.” Idia’s face quickly flamed up, and his hands rose to cup his own cheeks as he began to stutter rather fiercely.

“That—you—but—I—you lie!” he settled on; his face completely flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m not lying.” You shook your head, as you admired him in his summoning robes. You really weren’t—Idia can clean up rather nicely, and the dark colour of the robes accentuated the blue of his hair and the gold of his eyes.

“Thanks.” He said, his hands still covered the bottom half of his face.

“Are you really okay, Idia?” you asked, a little more concerned when your attempt at a conversation fell through.

“Yeah…?” he looked at you confused, and your eyes moved to the door. You knew Ortho was still there but…

“Ortho was pretty worried about you. Said you were acting all weird.”

“That’s because…” he chewed his lower lip, and he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Well…”

“You can tell me anything.” You said—as you always did, when Idia worried himself to a frenzy at what you might think of the things he liked. “You know me Idia, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah… it’s…” he hesitated before he turned to you—Idia’s expression was different—it was, strangely serious and intense—not in any way you’ve seen it before. It instantly made you even more worried. “The truth is…”

He was never particularly good at lying—nor was he good at keeping secrets from you. You were a person he considered a dear friend—and he was always the type of person who ended up spilling everything to you. He liked being able to talk about the things he enjoyed—he liked that he had found someone who wanted to hear him out.

So, he told you what he had overheard, his eyes fell to his palms because he could no longer face you. He was worried about what you’d think when you found out that he heard what had happened—and he was worried that something on your face will make him break down.

Idia was afraid of losing you.

Idia was afraid of losing a person who was so willing to be his dear friend.

His fists tightened on his shirt, and he wondered if there was any reason, he could give you so that you would stay.

“Idia…” you began, but your sombre tone made him squeeze his eyes shut because he didn’t want to confront the truth—that you were actually going to leave and…

“Are you really leaving?”

“That’s—”

“Please don’t leave!” you faltered briefly, and looked at the way Idia was hunched over, with his eyes squeezed shut. It would have been quite the comical sight if it were not for the seriousness of the topic.

“Idia—I’m—”

“I really—I don’t want you to go—” he fiddled with his robes. “I know that’s… selfish of me—and I know you’re probably thinking of your family but I think—no—I know—” He hesitated, and he looked up at you, his expression shy, his chin wobbled.

“I… lo—” he shut his eyes quickly as finally blurted out how he truly felt. “I love you [Name]!” He tugged quickly on a button in his robes before he offered it to you with shaking hands.

You stared at him—stunned—you knew what Idia was like. You knew how much courage it must have took him to be tell you this—and to confront you about it too…

“Idia… won’t you look at me? Please?” you asked, gently. He glanced up at you, and you gave him a sweet smile that had his heart run a mile a minute. With that tender expression, you took the button in his hands and rubbed it gently with your fingers.

“Idia… you didn’t hear the whole thing, did you?” Idia furrowed his brows, before he shook his head.

“I accidentally quit the program…” he admitted, “and… I was too scared to go back on so…”

“Idia—I’m not leaving.”

“I guess it wasn’t enough—wait, what?” his head jerked back up to see your happy expression.

“I have no plans on leaving. If you had listened further, you might’ve heard that.” You giggled lightly, “I didn’t want to leave you—so I asked Crowley if it was possible to just… communicate with my world instead.” Idia gaped at you, completely surprised.

“Wait—you’re staying?”

“Yes.”

“For me?” he squeaked, and you nodded.

“For you. For us.” You held up the button between your fingers, and he looked at it for a moment before he met your gaze again, his face rapidly turned a bright red.

“So, I—I didn’t need to—do this—?”

“Technically… no?”

“Can you just forget the last few minutes please—”

“Absolutely not!” He made a strangled whimper-like sound at the back of his throat, and you laughed as you moved to embrace him. “I won’t forget it—because I love you too!”

“You—you do?”

You pulled back, to cup his face in your hands. His cheeks burned red, but you disregarded that to look into his gold eyes. His pupils shook, and you could see how nervous he was—you could feel the way he trembled in your hands.

“I love you Idia—and I’ll happily accept your heart.” Idia exhaled heavily, as he slackened into your arms, before he moved to wrap his arms around you.

“And… I love you…” he mumbled, less nervous—a little more assured—but for sure, deep in love. “Thank you… for staying with me.”

When Malleus himself invited you to Diasomnia—you gathered all your courage to go and tell him about what Crowley had told you.

"Ah [Name].” Sebek greeted you with a cheerful smile as you entered Diasomnia’s Main Hall. “Care for a button?”

Your brows shot up as you realized that he was carrying a bunch of buttons in his cupped hand.

“Err... Sebek... why...” you cleared your throat. “Why do you have so many... buttons?” Sebek brightened up at the question.

“You see, remember when Ace was speaking about the Second Button tradition?” At your hesitant nod, he continued, “I have come to understand that I shouldn’t be thinking about exchanging buttons with the Young Master—”

‘Oh dear.’

“As his vassal, I should be more concerned with the fact that should he exchange buttons with someone, it would ruin his attire—and by extension it may ruin his reputation.” Sebek nodded to himself, pleased with his own reasoning. “So, I chose to prepare a lot of buttons for the Young Master to pass out to those seeking his button.”

“I... I see.” You exhaled. If you had to describe what you felt for Sebek at this very moment—you would describe it as exasperated, but fond. He wasn’t a bad person--just... hilariously attached.

'Malleus...’

Had it already been two years since you came to Twisted Wonderland? Had it already been two whole years since you had met him in the gardens of the Ramshackle Dorm?

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t remember how dark it had been that night—nor could you remember the exact reason why you had still been awake.

“Hm. Who are you?”

What you do know is that everything faded away in favour of remembering how you felt when you first laid eyes on Malleus.

“Well now this is a surprise. You are a child of man.”

Long dark hair that tumbled down to the small of his back, pale porcelain skin, and vividly green eyes that were framed by long, thick lashes. The light of the moon was bright enough to illuminate him and it made him all the more ethereal in the night.

As you had stared at him, you felt your throat dry, your heart picked up its pace and your cheeks burned. You didn’t know—you still don’t know—but something about Malleus just left you so speechless... and in awe.

You raised a hand to your chest, as you felt it skip a beat just at the thought of him.

‘I have it bad.’ you had to accept that much—even if you knew you had—practically—zero chance with him.

“[Name]?” Sebek brought you out of your stupor. You dragged your eyes back down to Sebek’s palm, and the shining buttons in his palm.

“I’m surprised you’re even offering.” you pointed out, and Sebek glanced at you thoughtfully.

“Regardless of my personal feelings,” Sebek sniffed. “I at least know that the Young Master thinks of you as an important friend.”

‘What was it that Jack said?’

Jack had said it was something of a serious promise (Ace completely disregarded it--but... well, you were more likely to believe Jack between the two of them). You also remembered that Malleus wasn’t even allowed to show up in front of the Ghost Bride because he was the sole heir of the Valley of Thorns...

‘It’s not like Malleus would give me his he...’ You couldn’t help but blink in surprise at the bitterness of your thoughts. ‘Since when did I...’ You quickly shrugged it off, before you finally nodded at Sebek.

“Sure, why not?” After you picked it up, you began to play with it in between your fingers.

“Come to think of it [Name], what are you doing here?” Sebek eyed you suspiciously.

“Ah that’s because—”

“I invited her here.” At the sound of his voice, a shiver ran down your spine—and you felt the tips of your ears burn with a blush. You both turned to see Malleus as he entered the main hall.

Your eyes widened, and a gasp slid past your lips at the sight of him dressed in the dark coloured summoning robes. As the robe billowed around his long legs, he moved with a certain grace that made it seemed like he was gliding towards you.

“Woah...” you raised a hand to your lips in surprise. In return, Malleus’s lips only curled—pleased at your reaction.

“Ah, Young Master! You look amazing!” Sebek exhaled, as awed as you.

“Thank you.” He inclined his head elegantly, before his eyes shifted back to you. You shuffled in place uncomfortably, before his lips raised into a gentle smile.

“I apologize I could not come to Ramshackle tonight. We were busy preparing for graduation.” Malleus said, “I thought we could walk instead in the gardens of Diasomnia... before I escorted you home. Not a bad plan, no?”

“Young Master...” Sebek furrowed his brows briefly, but Malleus only raised a hand—his eyes never leaving your form.

“It is fine Sebek. I will not take too long.” He tilted his head; his dark hair gently fell across his face at the motion and your struck by the motion to tuck it behind his ear. You had to curl your fingers together to stop yourself.

“Shall we?”

You walked quietly beside Malleus through the gardens; your heart pounded in your ears.

‘I have to tell him. I really need to.’ You glanced at him quickly from the corner of your eyes. His eyes had slid shut as he inhaled, his shoulders rose and fell at his action. Your heart twisted regretfully, and you could feel your eyes tear up briefly.

His smile was gentle—delicate, much like the fairy lights that naturally accompanied him every night.

He looked so peaceful.

He looked content.

He had once been so forlorn.

His eyes had been so viridescent and sad. Loneliness had wrapped him up in a cold embrace.

You wondered if centuries from now—Malleus would remember you.

You doubted it.

You were just a drop in the ocean of Malleus’s life.

As if you could ever...

“I’ve been wondering.” you flinched as he suddenly spoke, and you blinked rapidly—as you hoped that none of the wetness in your eyes fall out.

“Yeah?” you hoped he didn’t notice the way that you had been so overcome with your feelings that you had to choke that out.

“That.” Malleus pointed at button that you had been unconsciously playing with your hands. “Why are you holding a button?”

“Oh that’s...” you looked down at the button in your hand, “Sebek gave it to me. He said he was passing it out to people who would ask you for your button.”

“My button?” the dragon fae blinked slowly. You quickly told him about the tradition Ace had mentioned.

“Ah.” Malleus let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, I do believe Lilia mentioned it.” then he peered down at you again. “That begs the question... why did you accept the button from Sebek?”

“Well... that’s because...” you nibbled on your lower lip. ‘It’s not like I can tell him that I...’ you stopped walking, and when Malleus realized that you had stopped moving—he turned around to face you.

“Little one?”

“I just figured... well... I don’t think I’d ever get one.” you said in a self-deprecating tone. “So, I thought... might as well... It’s a cute tradition anyways.”

Malleus felt his brows furrow in response. He had easily noticed that your mood was not particularly bright. He frowned; he despised the things that would make you sad—it made your light dim.

Your brilliance saved him.

He would be damned before he let anything cause you to flicker out like a dying star.

When you saw his shadow approach you, you couldn’t help but flinch. You didn’t want him to look at you right now—when you know your feelings are all over your face—when you couldn’t control the way your heart hummed in pleasure—knowing he was with you.

Malleus grabbed your hands, and you swear he could probably feel the way your heartbeat moved into a rapid pace at his touch. At this proximity—Malleus’s scent—gentle but fragrant—of wildflowers and smoke—enveloped you, it made you instinctively relax. You looked at your hands as he gently pried your fingers open to take the button away from you.

“I see...”

Before your eyes, the innocent little button caught a flame and burned away.

“Malleus, that’s overdoing it—don’t you think—” when you looked up, you caught sight of the way he reached for the buttons on his uniform.

Snap.

“I wish you spoke to me first.” Malleus said softly as he pressed the button into your palms. He looked down at you, with those eyes—

Vivid greens--but so gentle, so loving.

Nobody had ever looked at you like that.

“After all, I would gladly give my heart to you, my bright light.” your eyes widened, and they began to sting.

“You can’t... you can’t just do that... You’re a fae prince... and I.... I don’t belong here... I... I...” Malleus listened intently as your breath grew uneven as you tried not to cry. “I... I don’t...” you tried to give the button back, but Malleus only pressed your fingers close. “Crowley told me I could go home...”

“You do not have to.” Malleus leaned down and lifted your head so that he could press his forehead against yours. Your eyes were too sad—too wet.

He could not believe that you thought of yourself like this.

‘You don’t understand little light... If there’s anyone who should be unworthy to bathe in your presence it would be I....’

“You could stay here, with me. You could be my Queen...” Malleus paused thoughtfully, “No... that is wrong. You already are my Queen.”

“I’m no fae. Not even a magician. Not a speck of magic in me.” your grief escaped you through your tears, “you still want that?”

‘Volatile as I was... so arrogant and self-assured in my own powers.... but you had not given up on me, little light.... that is why... I won’t let go of you either.’

"Of course.” he replied easily, “you possess more power than you think. You possess so much power over me.” he whispered, and his breath fanned over your face. “I do not mind how powerless I am against you.”

“I’m not an immortal. You... I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, bright light... I would prefer to live the rest of your life by your side... rather than spend centuries contemplating what it could have felt… to hold you in my arms.” Malleus professed. You were now openly sobbing, and Malleus pressed his lips against your jaw, onto your cheeks and over your eyelids.

“And should you worry about the centuries after... that is alright my bright light. I will simply find you again.”

As he pulled away, he noticed that your breathing was still shaky, and he leaned in again to give you several more comforting kisses.

“Won’t you... get bored of me?”

“Ah... but you are such a bright spark... I will never tire of you.” He made sure to stare straight into your eyes, “I will never tire of the way you look at me, the way you blush... the way you react when I call for you—and the feel of your heart...” He moved his thumb to feel the rhythmic beat of your heart.

“Will you not… let me…have your heart too?” He found the button—his button from earlier—and pressed it once more into your palm, to remind you of his earlier gift.

‘His heart...’

“...How... can I say no?” you choked out, “Yes... of course... Malleus.... I’d... there’s never been anything I wanted more.”

He could feel his shoulders slacken in relief at your response, as he bent down to brush his lips across yours.

‘I was terrified that you would slip away from me... Thank you...’

“Then let whatever years we have together... be ours only....”

#aiwrites #aiscenarios #female reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleus #inspired by: lucky ending by vickeblanka and the second button tradition #ai lucky series

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