#I’ll just cry on the floor when I get lonely again I guess : | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duckymcdoorknob · 2 years

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Emergency request, if they’re still open !

I have a fear of being a lone and lately none of my friends have been talking to me even when they’re free and I’m just so scared they’re gonna leave- I do apologise for ranting but it’s like- being in the dark and hoping someone is there to save you, I to have bad panick attacks because of it too. But there’s nobody I guess? Could I maybe get a situation like this with Tendou, suga and ukai(the coach- not his grandfather just incase confusion-)

Of course you may. Thank you for trusting me with this. I know exactly how you feel and I experience this quite commonly.

If you’d like, hop into my dms and I’ll adopt you as my homie :)

I wrote these as platonic, if you’d like romantic, please request again and I’ll help!

Please let me know if I can do anything else for you!!

CW UNDER THE CUT: Reader feels alone, Graphic descriptions of panic attacks,.

𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖 𝑇𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑢

While you had your inner circle of friends, no one could deny that Tendou was your best one.

The two of you had become fast friends during your first year. The redhead was happy to have finally made a true friend, and you were happy to have a support system in your new school.

Overtime, you had collected some more friends amongst the two of you. They were all fantastic close friends, but nothing broke the bond between you and Satori.

That’s why he was the first to notice your sudden standoffishness towards all of your friends.

When he asked you why you hadn’t been very chatty with them, you only replied that you’ll “talk to them, when they talk to me”

You shrugged it off, putting up a front in front of Tendou. Behind closed doors though… you were a mess. Your mind was constantly running a million miles a minute.

You thought of any and every way to get your friends to talk to you. You wondered what had happened, and what you could do to change and fix it.

After a week of these nights, the middle blocker noticed how drained you looked. He noticed that you were much more sensitive to light and sound, deducing that you had been crying.

His suspicions were solidified when the two of you were standing at your lockers. You noticed one of your closest friends walking in, so you cheerily said hello to them.

Their reply was nothing more than a forced , awkward, grin. They wordlessly got their books and left while giving you some sort of stank eye.

Tendou’s eyes widened at the interaction, mouth agape. “(Y/N)-“

“Hm. That was strange. They must be having an off day.” You said with a fake cheerfulness, “Maybe I’ll see if they want to go out later to help them feel better.”

Before he could ask how you felt, you were gone. Instead of going to class, you retreated to the place you knew would be empty at this time: the club room.

As the door shut behind you, you instantly sank down the back wall and onto the floor. Your eyes flooded with tears as the tie around your neck seemed to choke you.

You tried so desperately to collect yourself and force breaths, but nothing worked. Your mind abandoned you as you thought only about how much your friends hated you.

Your chest hurt, your eyes hurt, everything was so tiring. You just couldn’t stop the weeks worth of shear panic that erupted from you.

As if on cue, your saving grace opened the door hastily. Tendou immediately dove into his knees and knelt at your side. “What can I do?” He asked quickly and breathlessly.

“C-can’t breathe. Ti-tie.” You sputtered as you hiccuped and clawed at your collar.

The redhead’s gentle fingers worked their way around the tie and took it off of your neck. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of your uniform shirt and watched you. “What else?”

“Take” you whimpered as you meekly held your hand out to him.

Satori took your hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb on the base of your own. “I’ve got you. Whatever is in your head right now, try to get rid of it.” He whispered, “You’re safe and loved. I’ll always be by your side.”

When the panic subsided, it was replaced by tears of confusion, of hate, of frustration, of sadness. They fell quickly and pattered on the ground in front of you. Tendou gently held you in his arms.

“I just don’t get it. I went all over the place for them. I would do anything for them, and they can’t even be bothered to acknowledge my existence. What did I do? Why do they hate me? I’m so tired of this.” You sobbed.

“They are the issue here, not you.” Satori explained, “You’ve done what you can to try and find out what’s going on with them. You weren’t pushy, you weren’t annoying, I mean hell that was the first time I think I saw you talk to one of them in a while.”

“It’s their fault that they’re being immature. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re a fantastic friend. If you weren’t, there’s no way in hell I’d be here right now.”

“Please try and realize that you are just fine on your own. Sure, company is good to have, but not if it’s fake company. If it’s any consolation, I’ll always be here for you. So if one is better than more, I’ll happily be the one you rely on.“ the middle blocker said, chastely kissing your forehead.

You sighed and cuddled up to him with a smile. He was right after all. If you couldn’t rely on anyone, you knew at the very least the Tendou would be there.

𝐾𝑜𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑖 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑎

As one of Koushi’s childhood friends, you were quite familiar with the world of volleyball.

You were always excited to go to watch his games, practices and even just hang out with his teammates. You always felt like the club was so cool, only causing your best friend to laugh and explain how lame they are.

You were thrilled to make friends with the club, and even more happy to share in your best friend’s hobbies.

Unfortunately, those hobbies do tend to be busy. Which is why when your friends suddenly went quiet, you didn’t tell Suga about it.

You figured that with his training camp in Tokyo coming up, that he had nothing more he should be worrying about. So, you let it eat you up inside.

You had hoped that it was just a fluke. Maybe your friends were just having a bad day, and didn’t want to talk to anyone. That wasn’t the case, however, when you noticed that even after a week they hadn’t said a word to you.

What truly hurt you was the day you and Suga were at your lockers and preparing to leave for practice. Your friend noticed you come by, but they only stared at you wordlessly while they left the hallway.

Koushi furrowed his eyebrows in discontent. “What was that all about?”

You chose to remain hopeful, “No clue. Maybe they just don’t want to talk to anyone today.”

“If you say so…” Suga replied, “Let me know if you need anything. See you in a few?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” You chirped as you continued to pack your bag.

When Koushi had left, your eyes immediately flooded with tears. You packed your school bag with shaky hands, wondering what you had done wrong.

After ten minutes of slow and agonizing packing, you trudged slowly to the club room. On your way in, you noticed your friend chatting excitedly with another person.

Your heart dropped as you rushed into the empty room. You sank down the wall and hung your head between your knees, hugging your chest. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t feel any air intaking. You choked and hiccuped as your mind abandoned you.

You tried so hard to get any air, but it just didn’t work. Your lungs were on fire and you couldn’t feel anything but pain. You heard nothing but the sounds of your own labored breathing and heavy sobs. Despite this, you immediately noticed the club room door opening casually.

“I’m just gonna grab my water bottle, Daichi! I’ll be right b-“

Your eyes widened as they met with your best friends’.

“Oh god, (Y/N)? Can you hear me? Why didn’t you come get me?” Koushi asked as his features were sympathetic and terrified. “I’m right here. Nothing will harm you.”

You couldn’t do anything but shake your head at him. You wanted to tell him to leave, to tell him you could handle this. You wanted to tell him that he needed to focus on nationals and-“

As if he heard your thoughts, Suga impatiently replied “(Y/N) I barely play and you know that. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t have time for this.”

The silver-haired setter took you in an embrace and rubbed up and down your arms. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His voice softened as well as his eyes relaxing.

After a few minutes, your panic seemed to subside. You were still crying harshly, cursing the world. “God I feel like such an idiot. I should’ve known better.”

“What do you mean? I need you to tell me what you can…” Suga asked quietly.

“They’ve been like this for weeks, Koushi. M-my friends they just don’t like me anymore. I must’ve… I must’ve done something to annoy them or something, god I’m such a-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence, that’s my best friend you’re talking about.” The setter said in seriousness, “You are not annoying for having human emotions. You haven’t done anything to annoy any of us, I don’t understand why they’re being so standoffish either.”

“You’re not the one to blame here. Your friends are being immature and absolutely ridiculous , this is so childish and I wish that they would see that and acknowledge their wrongdoing. You are a fantastic friend and you have nothing wrong with you, do you hear me?”

“You’ve been here for me more times than I can count. You’re not a bad person, nor a bad friend. If anything, those guys are the bad ones. They’re being immature and you need to take yourself away from them. If they come back, then they’re truly good friends. If not, you know they aren’t right. Please don’t think so poorly of yourself because of bad people.”

You nodded, understanding his message. At that moment, all you wanted to do was be loved on by someone who actually cared about you. So, you took your time to cuddle up to Suga, and hug him back as he rocked you in his arms.

𝐾𝑒𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑈𝑘𝑎𝑖

As the manager of the Karasuno team, you kept to yourself mostly.

Your job was to focus on your boys, helping them get to victory as many times as they could.

So when things began going awry for you’d you truly had no one to turn to. Your carried your burdens like baggage, wondering what went wrong.

At the very least, you figured you could distract yourself with work for the team. You found anything and everything to do, desperately trying to distract yourself.

Whether it was refilling water, retrieving lost volleyballs, cleaning towels, writing down anything you observed, you tried everything.

Nothing seemed to work. Your mind still ran as you wondered why your friends had suddenly gone radio silent.

When you were late to practice one day, you passed by one of your oldest friends, you waved to them with a cheerful smile. They simply glared at you and kept talking to the person they were with.

Your heart dropped as you realized that you had been correct about your assumptions. Your friends weren’t talking to you on purpose…

As your eyes filled with tears you raced over to the gym. The boys were already running drills, so you retreated to a supply closet without being noticed. Or so you thought…

You hastily slammed the door behind you as you fell to the floor. Your damn lungs wouldn’t take in any air and you were suffocating. Your gasps and hiccups were as loud as your sobs.

The closet door opened gently, then almost slammed into the wall. Shortly after, you were being pulled into someone’s arms. You immediately curled into the embrace and tried desperately to calm yourself, not wanting to to be a bother to the person.

“I’ve got you kiddo. I’ve got you.” A deep voice filled your ears as a hand slowly rubbed behind your shoulder blades. “You’re safe here, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

At that moment, your blocked lungs seemed to open as you hastily gasped in deep breaths. They hurt, but they were nonetheless relieving. There you sat, panting on the floor, for a few more minutes. When you had finally calmed a little, you spoke up.

“I’m so sorry that I took you away from practice, coach. I know how close we are to Nationals and-“

“(Y/N). Your health and well-being is so much more important to me. The boys are fine. They’ve got Daichi, Sugawara, Ennoshita, and even Good Ol’ Specs to give them any tips they may need. I don’t have to be out there every second of practice, and quite frankly I couldn’t bear to ignore you when you’re having a panic attack.”

You sighed and sunk down into his embrace, “I’m really sorry. I just feel like everyone hates me for some reason…” you mumbled, turning away from his gaze. “All of my friends are just… gone. No one talks to me anymore and I hate it. I don’t know what I did to them, or what I did to myself to make them hate me.”

“Let me tell you a little secret, Kiddo.” Keishin said softly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “You don’t have to change a thing just because someone is upset with you. It doesn’t mean that you’re the problem. They could very well be going through some personal issues.” He explained.

“You’re not at fault here, (Y/N). You’ve done absolutely nothing to make them not like you. If they’re being immature, fine. I know it’s not easy at this age, but I urge you to move forward. Friends come and go, and it seems that these ones aren’t truly your friends.”

“If they don’t explain to you what’s been happening with them, please do not stay in a place that makes you panic like this. Plus, if you need any help making new friends, I know a group of 12 pretty cool people.” He finished his speech with a ruffle to your hair.

You chuckled softly and returned his hug. “Thank you, Coach.”

“There’s that smile.” Ukai said with a grin of his own. “You’re very welcome. If you need anything else, don’t be a stranger. If you need a little time to recollect yourself before practice, feel free to go to the club room and do what you need.”

Your friends may not have been there when you needed them, but you knew in your heart that you’d always have your boys and your coaches.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

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quillyfied · 7 months

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Okay next batch of episode thoughts that I don’t know that I can expand into real coherent thoughts so heck it we’re doing it live and cramming them together, no chronology just memory vibes, PART TWO:

- “that’s six inches of silver in your scapula” MADAM.

- They’re doing an amazing job of showing Izzy in a pure pathetic state. I still have a lot of conflicted emotions about him but his increased confidence and ease around the ship BECAUSE the crew is taking time to be kind to him is…it’s. I don’t. GOLD UNICORN LEG OKAY. THE CARE THEY ARE SHOWING HIM AND HE DOES NOT DESERVE IT AND HE KNOWS IT AND HE BELIEVES IT BUT IT IS CHANGING HIM FOR THE BETTER ANYWAY.

- once again my expectations are being undercut. Of course Buttons isn’t the rabbit. Silly of me to think that. Of course he isn’t going to screw up turning into a seagull. He’s Buttons.

- …he’s coming back, though, right?? Guys Buttons is coming back at some point, right????

- Hang on have to go giggle about Izzy dragging himself across the floor mumbling existential horrors and shouting at the unicorn and then barking at people knocking on his door.

- Also have to giggle about the two halves of the crew coming at each other trying to help in two different ways and talking it through on their own, without Stede’s direct interference. I’m so proud of them.

- Wee John might just be slowly transforming into a mermaid. And I want his sweater.

- Ed referring to himself and the rabbit as lone wolves but immediately imprinting on the thing—and it not leaving him, either.

- HES SCARED OF SPIDERS

- How instantly Ed is glad to see Mary and Anne though. And the secret handshake with Anne. I cry.

- I also cry over how Anne instantly smells blood in the water with Stede before even knowing his connection to Ed.

- Like I guess Buttons not coming back makes sense bc he gave the most profound advice of the entire show and then flew off as a seagull, thereby completing his life’s dream, but have they considered the fact that I will miss him.

- (And so will the crew)

- I love that Ed and Stede finally have it out and get to a point where they can start to heal. I also find it so interesting to see the difference in what the fandom thought would be important to bring up, and what the show itself seems important to bring up. Stede could have blamed Badminton for his cowardice, but he doesn’t; he owns it and makes a greater stride towards mending things with Ed and being better himself. Ed could have mentioned what Izzy said to him, but instead he’s starting to work at the greater issue of his own self-loathing and how that drove him to harming the crew. It’s entirely possible that those details will come up later, but. I think Izzy has a point when he says it’s better to patch things with fiction (or silence) than never moving on. And maybe the hashing out of this stuff belongs to fanfic, not to canon. Because the events themselves don’t matter so much to canon as does what those events represented and THAT is what is getting fixed and addressed.

- Mary Read’s whole thing about “this is what an adult relationship looks like.” I have so many conflicted personal feelings about it. The summary: never been in a romantic relationship before and now at an age where I’ve witnessed plenty but I’m terrified of how I’ll be if and when that ever happens for me, bc the only experiences I’ve got is watching others and fiction. And I just was listening to both my mom and sister in law talking about how so many women my sil’s age have gotten divorced bc their expectations for what a marriage is were unrealistic, how marriage is more like a business transaction. And I was too scared to ask for clarification at the time. And I really do wonder if Mary has a point, yknow. When the mystery fades and the magic is gone…what’s left? Bc fiction tells us one thing. Real life often tells another. Dying alone doesn’t sound fun but it sounds better than accidentally ruining my and/or someone else’s life based on a false hope, yknow?

- Anyway that’s way too personal time to move on

- TO ANNE SETTING THEIR STIFLING LIFE ABLAZE AND REALLY REKINDLING THAT ROMANCE WITH MARY. HELL YEAH LADIES GET IT.

- I know it’s never gonna be addressed but please can the satanic ship be addressed at some point, even as a throwaway line

- (Also patiently awaiting the literal translation of what the dying priest was saying)

- PUT STEDE BACK IN FINE FABRICS 1717

- The absolute ball you know they were all having with this episode. Rhys Darby your FACE when screaming at Izzy after he reiterates that it’s cursed.

- Just the sheer hope in Ed’s face as he witnesses Buttons(?) fly away, as he submits to the jumpsuit and cat bell, the enthusiasm with which he jumps in to go fishing with Fang. The man is going through it but I love seeing him so earnest

- LUCIUS THO. SO MANY THOUGHTS. First and foremost I want his outfit this season, forget Stede’s cursed suit for a minute let’s talk about how Lucius is SERVING this season (and why it’s making me more hopeful for ABBA on the soundtrack at some point)

- How Pete gets through to him by pointing out that HE LIVED BITCH. TALK ABOUT A PERSPECTIVE CHANGE. Also the various blackbeard doodles I’m dying

- Izzy turning the tables on Lucius. I love a good parallel.

- Pete tho. Marry the F out of that man, Lu, he’s a keeper.

- “Loner artsy types” EXPLAIN CALICO JACK TO ME

- AND ALSO I NEED NAMES AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THESE OTHER ARTSY LONER TYPES

- Fang is such a wonderful character and we are so blessed to have him. I was a little wary that Fang was going to try and off (or offload) Ed just to make the crew feel better, but what we got was so much softer and better. Teaching Ed in such a gentle and honest way to examine himself! To sit with himself and learn to value the company! Telling Ed that he’s been crossing boundaries for a long time and giving Ed space to apologize and process! HIS NAME IS KEVIN AND IT’S A FOUR HUNDRED YEAR OLD TRADITION.

- Listen. Listen. Listen. Shirtless Con O’Niell is. A gift. That shirtlessness belonging to the character of Izzy is a little more of a conflict for me but given that Izzy has entered his “little shit and owning it” phase, I’m inclined to enjoy it.

- Also the SHEER BALLS on Stede Bonnet to manipulate Izzy into teaching him some piracy bits. That little stutter when Izzy tries to act unaffected but still asks what Blackbeard said about him. I’m just. Omg.

- And the way Stede sucks at the practicality but he excels at the instinctive/emotional bits. How he’s so creative and genuine and absolutely won his crew’s respect and loyalty and continues to prove that he’s worth it. I ADORE Stede Bonnet.

- Okay I gotta I gotta I gotta: KISS NUMBER TWOOOOOOO. I’ve only kissed one person in my time so far but I remember the moment after that initial dam break, when it occurred to me that I was allowed to kiss this person again; something about the casual way Ed and Stede both lean in just feels the same way to me. Like this is their new normal and they like it. And ADORE Ed setting a boundary and Stede immediately respecting it. AND. THE FINGERS. THE PLAYING. Comparing their games to what Anne and Mary get up to, it does make me hopeful that a mature relationship can be comfortable and playful and sweet and not just a grind or a business transaction. Idk man.

- Now I fully forgot that the episodes have post credits scenes so my reactions to them are not included here but I’ll be rewatching all five episodes later tonight so maybe a separate little baby post about them later.

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #here we go much more timely #mainly bc I want to get these out BEFORE I do a rewatch #so it’s just initial thoughts and memories #more in depth posts will come later I think

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schizomatic3000 · 10 months

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Judge My Diction, Not My Grammer

(my completed prose piece from multiple drafts i previously made)

Driving down the road only guessing how many you’ve been down. From Brooklyn to Montague; you’ll travel the world one day. Just me for miles: safe and content. The tiny volume dial spinning back and forth between my fingers getting more and more elated with every increase, the feel of the pedals beneath me, finally in control of something for once in my life. Stray coins fill the console thrashing about at every sharp turn without any damage at all. One day they’ll fall onto the floor, and never be found again. Lost under the seats like childhood dreams, I took too fast a turn to keep them safe. The car needs me as much as I need it. Without the other we’ll both just sit and rust away in some junkyard, but instead we arrive at my favorite place in the world. Gas stations. But the off-brand, run-down, days from bankruptcy kind. They’re perfect.

The broken lights make it hard to read the price on anything, forcing you to squint until you involuntarily cry from the effort. Flickering lights in the bathroom in sync with your now racing heart as you wash your hands reminding yourself the person in the mirror is just you . The creepy guy behind the counter who’s desperately trying to imagine what you’re wearing beneath your jacket making you subconsciously pull it tighter around yourself like a goodbye hug. Bittersweet and lingering for days. The smell of cigarette smoke and gasoline mixing in the air and pumping helium into your head, your brain floating up over the tiny shelves and right out the door. Longing to join the stars it bursts on a powerline, lighting up the sky and fulfilling its wish. Your body, a host without its parasite, stumbles about waiting for someone else to take control. Humming along with the crappy pop song barely audible in the background, taking your time in every aisle allowing yourself to just exist despite your fictitious truth. Gas stations. But the off-brand, run-down, days from bankruptcy kind. They’re home.

As home as I’ll get in this body and brain of mine. With my ribs sticking out, begging for God to make me a companion, I breathe out giving life to the trees that surround me. Swaying in my breath they filter light from above casting a halo above my covetous head - my first sin. The apples of my eye float mockingly high, shining that shade of red that makes you feel warm and re-ignites the butterflies within your stomach. Beetles and spiders and wasps crawl around through mine, clicking and popping to scare off predators - am I not enough to protect you? With my twiggy arms squeezing tight around my core and giving life to the branches you reside on? I know there’s knicks and scratches and dents, but I thought you’d like them. I’m sorry I don’t know what you want. My brain is but a rock; dense and heavily within my skull. The cracks that wrap around have taken only moments to spawn, but now, years later, flowers sprout from the darkness. My heart is more a leaf than anything else. Jolting from side to side following the wind, even when they disagree. Rips line the edges making the original outline cryptic - the tree she came from I’ll never know. Frequently flooding Eden in my sorrows I make fruitless attempts to build protective dams around the garden. Waterfalls run down my face from the caves that are pretty only at a glance; the more you observe the worse a place they seem to be. Absorbed by the seeds of my skin; one day flowers will ornate my body turning me into the garden I know I am. Until then I’m just a spot in the forest, isolated and esoteric, praying for it all to burn down.

A charred ghost town sits lonely in my skull. The once excited inhabitants are long gone and scared to come back. I don’t remember when but the power plant exploded and all that’s left is mother nature. Evacuated, the citizens made home somewhere else. It’ll never be the same, but at least there’s a roof over their heads. And crime in the streets, corruption in politics, death in hospitals, and constant crying in schools.Where my hope went I don’t know, but in place of pride lies an alley located between my confidence and sorrow. Dim and putrid with noises of feral cats and unsteady dumpsters. The sidewalk in front is cracked and crumbing, callous to the weary feet that tremble past. The small pop-up shop that is my confidence has only a few items left in stock. The owner seems to always be in the back; leaving customers at the register long enough for them to give up and go somewhere else. How pretty the decor is, beautiful paintings and sculptures that no one cares to admire. To the left, a skyscraper reaching for the stars hoping to become one. The multitude of floors and departments and workers and management inside is as heavy as the steel and concrete used to create their home away from home. What makes this building so terrifying is that the farther you go up the more you can see. Except the building is so high it pokes out through the clouds and at a certain point all you can see is a white blanket of faux snow calling for you to become an angel. I’ve been to the top a few times and as ethereal as it was, nothing was more comforting than racing down the abundance of stairs and straight out the door. The air is not nearly as fresh down here but at least I’m not light-headed anymore. The cartography of my soul is still mostly undiscovered. I hope I can create the full map someday; maybe then I’ll know who I am. Maybe then I’ll be able to tell you who I am.

People try so hard to figure out what I am; but I don’t know. Listening to me talk about things that seem to spike my interest as my eyes stay dull and unfeeling. All I do is drone on and on while thinking over and over ¨be present, be present, be present¨. But I can’t: I’m preoccupied. Constantly aware of the fact that this isn’t who I want to be. Younger me would be so disappointed and it kills me to know I let her down. I was all she had and now, she has nothing. I could’ve been so much but instead I’m just hollow. Not empty or void or missing some important piece of me; I’m just hollow. There’s nothing inside me - yes - but nothing was ever meant to be. The cavity in my chest is not meant to hold a heart, but to allow birds to perch on my ribs and sing songs that echo throughout my body when they so please. I’m open to the world, yet hidden from society.

#writeblr #poetry #writing #poems #creative writing #writematic #prose poetry #prose poem #prose

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just-something-4-me · 2 years

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Is It Just Me?

Am I fighting alone? Or is there someone going through this too? Honestly, I don’t want anyone else to go through this. It’s isolating and lonely and sad. Even if there are days when all is right in the world and nothing could take that away from me.

What is this bitch talking about?

I’ll tell you: I’m talking about living life as a woman with depression, anxiety and ADHD who is married to an autistic man and has two autistic kids. Sometimes I feel like we’re all speaking a different language and none of us can communicate what we’re feeling to the others.

Sometimes I just need a minute alone to poop and my husband will come open the door and ask, “how’s it going?” I’m pooping, how do you think it’s going?

Sometimes I need my husband to take his fifteen minute break and play with the kids so I can have some quiet and he’ll text me the whole time asking if I’m coming to relieve him so he can go back to work.

Sometimes my husband tells me what he needs and I completely misread it because I’m looking at context clues and body language and he’s being so. fucking. literal.

Sometimes my oldest is stimming in a destructive way and I have to gently and cautiously guide him into a stim that isn’t going to hurt him or his little brother.

Sometimes I try to be as literal as I can possibly be, and my husband takes the thing I say and still asks me to be more specific next time because he didn’t think I meant what I said.

Sometimes I just want things to be less chaotic. My mental health is at al all time low, and I feel like everyday I’m a piss-poor excuse for a mom and a wife. But I also don’t feel like I’m doing anything *for me* to give my own needs some attention.

Can anyone relate?

Me time is so rare. I get a few hours once or twice a week. I crave it, and feel guilty for taking it all at the same time. I know that I need to care for my own needs first so that I can better care for the needs of my family, but I also don’t want to neglect my family to care for my own needs.

See how vicious that cycle is?

Something related:

Recently on Reddit, I told someone that they didn’t owe anyone anything. They are a struggling adult female in a relationship who is finding self care tasks impossible. Her partner told her, harshly, that she needed a shower and she asks if she is the asshole. I tell her that she is NTA and that she doesn’t owe anyone anything. She should take baby steps towards self care tasks and celebrate each step as a milestone until she is better able to care for herself.

The other Reddit folks thought if she was in a relationship she owed it to her partner to shower because “it’s not fair” to him to have to deal with that. In my opinion, the OP is not in the wrong. She needs to shower, of course. But not because she owes her partner. She needs to shower because she owes it to herself.

I mention the Reddit post because so often I feel like that OP: I don’t have the energy to shower or brush my teeth or change my clothes. I just want to lie in bed and wallow because that’s easier. But I’m not in a mental state where I can’t find the energy for that stuff. If I was, I would hope that no one would tell me that I owed my husband the kindness of showering.

Idk. I guess I just want to feel validated on some level and know that I’m not a shit person because I need alone time occasionally and sometimes don’t want to be around my kids or my husband. I love my family with all of my heart. I love each day that I get with them. Nothing in the world would change that.

But every now and again I need time to be alone and not have someone climbing all over me, calling my name every 5 seconds, crying because their brother touched something they were playing with, or because the kids dropped something and the floor is now a mess.

Tell me, tumblr, am I alone? Or is there anyone else out there feeling like shit for needing “me time” and not knowing what to do about it.

#mental health #adhd #autism #rainbow family #husband and kids #family #family dynamics #mom life #family life #autism is not something to be cured #adhd happens in girls too

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redwinterskies · 3 years

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Me: makes plans to move

Cue the sounds of broken, grinding gears days later as I question every single one of my decisions up to this point :/ I wish to PERISH

Why can’t I just make up my mind 🙃 damn it all

#I’ll miss my FRIEND #fuck #sighs #maybe one day we’ll be able to live together again idk #I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life #probably gonna get a degree in a field I’ll inevitably hate #I’ll just cry on the floor when I get lonely again I guess :/#UGH why is this so frustrating #what if this doesn’t work out any better than this...?#then I’ll have moved for nothing #why am I like this #:’(#I’ll be here screaming into the void #I’ll come back if I’m welcome once I figure myself out ;;-;;

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

“I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

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sadprosed · 3 years

Text

𝑳𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑪 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬ RED (TAYLOR’S VERSION) ( 2021 ) by taylor swift.

pt. i, lyrics that made me sob on the floor at 2 am, taken from or inspired by the lyrical masterpiece that is red (tv).

+ feel free to change pronouns / roles !

STATE OF GRACE.

‘ we fall in love until it bleeds, or hurts, or fades in time. ’

‘ you come around and your armor falls. ’

‘ this is a state of grace. ’

‘ this is the worthwhile fight. ’

‘ love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right. ’

‘ this is the golden age of something good and right and real. ’

‘ you’re my achilles’ heel. ’

‘ so you never were a saint. ’

‘ i loved in shades of wrong. ’

RED.

‘ loving you is like trying to change my mind once i’m already flying through the free fall. ’

‘ it’s like the colors in autumn, so bright just before they lose it all. ’

‘ losing you was blue like i’ve never known. ’

‘ forgetting you is like trying to know somebody i’ve never met. ’

‘ remembering you comes in flashbacks, and echoes. ’

‘ i tell myself it’s time now, gotta let go. ’

‘ moving on from you is impossible when i still see it all in my head. ’

‘ regretting him / her / them is like wishing you’d never found out that love could be that strong. ’

‘ that’s why you’re spinning ‘round in my head, it comes back to me burning red. ’

TREACHEROUS.

‘ put your lips close to mine as long as they don’t touch. ’

‘ i can’t decide if it’s a choice: getting swept away. ’

‘ i hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay. ’

‘ all we are is skin and bone trained to get along. ’

‘ i’m forever going with the flow, but you’re friction. ’

‘ your name has echoed through my mind and i just think you should know. ’

‘ nothing safe is worth the drive and i will follow you home. ’

‘ this hope is treacherous. ’

‘ this daydream is dangerous. ’

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE.

‘ i guess you didn’t care, and i guess i liked that. ’

‘ when i fell hard you took a step back without me. ’

‘ i realized the blame is on me. ’

‘ i knew you were trouble when you walked in. ’

‘ i flew me to places i’ve never been until you put me down. ’

‘ no apologies, you’ll never see me cry. ’

‘ you’ll pretend you don’t know that you’re the reason why i’m drowning. ’

‘ i heard you moved on from whispers on the street. ’

‘ you were long gone when you met me. ’

‘ the saddest fear comes creeping in, that you never loved me. ’

ALL TOO WELL.

‘ something about you felt like home somehow. ’

‘ i can picture it after all these days. ’

‘ i know it’s long gone. ’

‘ i might be okay, but i’m not fine at all. ’

‘ i / you remember it all too well. ’

‘ you tell me about your past, thinking your future is me. ’

‘ i’ll forget about you long enough to forget why i needed to. ’

‘ maybe we got lost in translation, maybe i asked for too much. ’

‘ maybe this thing was a masterpiece, till you tore it all up. ’

‘ you called me up again just to break me like a promise. ’

‘ you’re so casually cruel in the name of being honest. ’

‘ time won’t fly, it’s like i’m paralyzed by it. ’

‘ i’d like to be my old self again, but i’m still trying to find it. ’

‘ it reminds you of innocence. ’

‘ i loved you so, back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known. ’

‘ it was rare, i was there, i remember it all too well. ’

22.

‘ it feels like a perfect night. ’

‘ we’ll end up dreaming instead of sleeping. ’

‘ we’re happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. ’

‘ it’s miserable and magical. ’

‘ everything will be alright if you keep me next to you. ’

‘ we’ll forget about the heartbreaks. ’

‘ you don’t know about me, but i’ll bet you want to. ’

‘ everything will be alright if we just keep dancing. ’

I ALMOST DO.

‘ i bet this time of night you’re still up. ’

‘ i just want to tell you it takes everything in me not to call you. ’

‘ i wish i could run to you. ’

‘ i hope you know that every time i don’t, i almost do. ’

‘ you think i either moved on, or hate you. ’

‘ i bet it never ever occurred to you. ’

‘ i can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye. ’

‘ we made quite a mess, babe. ’

‘ we’re probably better off this way. ’

‘ i confess, that in my dreams you’re touching my face. ’

‘ you’re asking me to stay. ’

‘ i hope sometimes you wonder about me. ’

WE ARE NEVER EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER.

‘ i remember when we broke up the first time. ’

‘ i’m saying this is it, i’ve had enough. ’

‘ i miss you, and i swear i’m gonna change. ’

‘ remember how that lasted for a day? ’

‘ this time i’m telling you. ’

‘ we are never ever getting back together. ’

‘ i’m really going to miss you picking fights, and me falling for it, screaming that i’m right. ’

‘ you’ll hide away and find some peace of mind. ’

‘ you’ll call me up again tonight. ’

‘ i used to think that we were forever. ’

‘ i used to say never say never. ’

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viastro · 3 years

Text

daisies | kim sunwoo

ミ★ synopsis: the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which sunwoo is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart.

ミ★ genre: angst, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: mentions of vomit, slightly suggestive

ミ★ word count: 10,155

ミ★ pairings: sunwoo x female reader

ミ★ notes: this is dedicated to my other half, @sunlightwoo happy birthday gina, i’m so grateful god decided that i shouldn’t be lonely and have you be born three days after me. i know you’ll probably hate me for this oneshot, but i know daises was one of your favorites from me. i love you, my sunshine. no amount of words will ever express just how much you mean to me.

The music is loud against Sunwoo’s ears as he dances with a girl he doesn’t even know the name of, not that he wants to know her name. She turns around and wraps her arms around the back of his neck, giving him a smirk. “Enjoying the view?”

Sunwoo grins, leaning in towards her ear to whisper, “Maybe.”

The unknown girl giggles at the ticklish feeling from Sunwoo’s lips, only making his smile wider as he moves closer to ask,

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Sunu! Sunu, we have to go.” Sunwoo curses at the familiar voice, turning around to see Chanhee with a frantic expression on his face, and that’s when he knows it’s serious. “Is it Minji?”

“It’s Minji.” Sunwoo removes himself from the stranger’s arms without another word and follows after Chanhee. They hurry out of the club, the cold spring night air hitting them as they walk. Sunwoo stops for a moment, looking up at the stars as he wonders what could’ve happened.

“Sunwoo! Come on!” The black haired beauty takes one last breath of the night air, before rushing over to Chanhee’s car.

“Minji, please calm down!” Sunwoo hears as soon as he and Chanhee enter Minji’s house. His eyes widen when he hears a loud crash from upstairs, and he sprints up the stairs fast as he can, bursting in through her bedroom door to see Minji crying while holding a flower vase in hand. Her mom turns to look at Sunwoo helplessly, and he nods his head at her.

“Minji, look at me.” Sunwoo says softly, and she keeps her eyes trained to the floor as she clutches the vase tightly. He takes a few steps closer as Chanhee walks in quietly behind him, choosing to stay back since he knows Sunwoo handles these situations better. “Minji.”

It’s when she’s about to throw the vase that Sunwoo grabs her wrist to stop her, pulling her into a hug with his other arm. She freezes for a moment, before letting out a small sob into Sunwoo’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she takes in her best friend’s comforting scent. “It’s okay Minji, we’re here. Chanhee and I are here.”

Chanhee finally walks over, resting his hand on Minji’s back as she cries. He takes a glance at Sunwoo to see him with a stoic expression on his face, eyebrows slightly furrowed as the sounds of Minji’s sobs get louder.

who the fuck did this to her?

“I always knew Mark was a piece of shit. Can’t believe he’s already showing interest in another girl when you guys just broke up.” Sunwoo grumbles to himself as he places his water back down. The three of them are sitting on Minji’s floor, talking about what caused her breakdown. She lets out a small sigh, running a hand through her hair, “I should’ve listened to your protests from the start. He was too charming though.”

“That’s how they get you. I mean, look at Sunwoo.” The person in question chokes on his drink, turning to look at his lavender haired best friend with a furrow to his brow.

“Why the fuck am I being brought into this?”

“He’s a charming ass guy,” Chanhee continues, choosing to ignore Sunwoo. “That’s how he’s able to pull in any person he shows the slightest bit of interest in. Then when he gets what he wants, poof. He’s gone.” Sunwoo chuckles, not finding it in himself to deny Chanhee’s explanation.

Cause he’s right.

Minji’s eyebrows furrow once an idea comes to mind, and she stands up along with the plan forming in her head. Sunwoo and Chanhee look at her with confused expressions on their faces, and she flashes them a small smile.

“The best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. Correct?” The two guys nod at her, not sure where she’s going with this.

“And Chanhee says that Sunu is a bit of a fuckboy, right?” Sunwoo rolls his eyes at the term, opening his mouth to argue and Minji flashes him a look. He sighs, nodding his head and leaning back onto the bed frame.

“What if we have Sunwoo swoop in and take the girl Mark’s interested in, have her fall completely in love with our sweet, sweet Sunu. Then he breaks her heart when the task is completed, so not only will Mark feel sad for her, but he’ll feel guilty knowing this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t move on so fast.” Minji says with a grin, looking at her two friends to see their reactions. Chanhee frowns immediately at the idea, while Sunwoo stares back at Minji with an open-mouthed smirk.

“We haven’t done anything fun like this in a while, I think it’d be cool.” Minji claps her hands in glee at his response, about to start planning the whole thing when Chanhee intervenes. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I understand revenge on Mark, but why do we have to bring the girl into it? She didn’t do anything wrong to Minji.”

“I don’t see why not. Don’t be a party pooper Chanhee, just help us plan it out mm?” Chanhee stares at his two best friends, obviously seeing that he won’t be able to get through to them. He lets out a sigh, raising up his hand as a way of saying well, get along with it.

“Well what I know about this girl is that her name is yln yn. She’s a year younger than us and goes to the same uni. Apparently her and Mark were close when they were in high school, but lost contact when he moved.”

“So his first love basically.” Sunwoo states, and Minji nods at him. “Ding, ding, ding! You’re correct. She works at the flower shop down by that cat café near your guys’ apartment complex.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about her for someone who just got their heartbroken.” Minji slaps the back of Chanhee’s head and he lets out a small whine. Sunwoo chuckles as he watches Chanhee rub the back of his neck, glaring up at Minji.

“Have to know the enemy, don’t I?” She asks with a smirk. Sunwoo takes a sip of his water before turning towards Minji and asking, “So what’s the plan?”

She bites her lip excitedly, walking over to grab her corkboard and sticky notes. Minji turns back around with a big smile.

“Here’s what I was thinking…”

“I hope your wife enjoys the bouquet Mr.Lee!” He gives you a big smile, waving bye as he steps out of the shop. You let out a breath, feeling satisfied by another happy customer. Leaning back onto the counter, you grab your water bottle and take a sip, only to immediately choke and spit it back out into the bottle when the door chimes.

“Hi! Welcome to-” The words die in your throat when you lay eyes on the man who walked in. His black hair is slightly curled over his forehead, plush lips in a small pout as he takes a look around the store. He’s wearing a white turtleneck with a beige overcoat, making it appear as if he just came out of a photoshoot.

The infamous Kim Sunwoo, a senior at Seoul National University. He’s notorious for sweeping people off their feet in a matter of minutes, being both charming and handsome really works in his favor. You can’t deny that he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but you’ve heard the rumors.

don’t get pulled in.

He runs a hand through his hair, flashing you a smile as he steps over to the counter.

oh jesus.

“Hi, I heard you guys make really pretty bouquets?” You nod your head silently, and he cocks his head to the side.

oh BITCH! You’re supposed to speak!

“I mean, I guess so! I’d say bouquets and flower crowns are our specialty.” Sunwoo lets out a small smile, finding you to be a lot cuter than he originally expected. “What’s the occasion?”

Sunwoo takes a good look at you, analyzing your features as you look at him expectantly. He stares into your eyes, tilting his head when he sees how they sparkle back at him. He’s heard a lot about people holding stars in their eyes, but he never believed it.

Until now.

“Um, sir?” Sunwoo shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he snaps himself out of his daze. You look down at your hands, feeling shy at the fact that you just caught Sunwoo basically checking you out. He grins at your shyness, “It’s my friend’s birthday soon, I wanted to get her something nice.”

“Okay, well here’s a photobook of our recent bouquets we’ve made, as well as the customer favorites. My favorite flowers are daisies, but I personally like bouquets with sunflowers because,”

Sunwoo listens attentively as you explain the different bouquets, and the meaning of the flowers added to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle even more when you talk about something you’re passionate about, even letting out giggles when you look up at him with a bright smile on your face.

“Well, I suppose I’ll get the sunflower bouquet you recommended to me.” You nod your head, typing in the order into the computer. “Great decision.”

“What time will it be ready tomorrow?” Sunwoo asks, leaning forward onto the counter. You find yourself scooting backwards from the close proximity, choosing to look busy with the computer. “I can have it ready by 12 pm, if that works for you?” The pretty boy nods his head, grinning at your shyness.

this will be a piece of cake, Sunwoo thinks to himself.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. My name is Kim Sunwoo by the way.” You nod your head as you type in his name for the order. Glancing up from the computer screen you see him watching you with an amused expression on his face, and you raise an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face? Shit, it might be the sparkles from that ribbon...”

Sunwoo giggles at you, shaking his head. “No, there’s nothing on your face, yn.” You raise an eyebrow again, and he smiles. “How do you know my name?”

He points at your nametag, and you look down at your hands, letting out a small, ah.

i… am stupid.

“Both silly and beautiful, a great combo.” Your eyes widen at the compliment, realizing you’re about to be one of the people that Sunwoo breaks and that’s when you snap out of it. Sunwoo’s smile drops slightly when he sees you look at him with a serious expression on your face, stark contrast to the shy smile you were sporting previously.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunwoo.” He nods his head slowly, giving you a smile before walking out of the shop. You let out a breath, leaning back onto the counter and closing your eyes.

not gonna fall for it.

“It’s been two weeks and you’re telling me she still hasn’t fallen for you yet?” Minji asks Sunwoo as they hangout by the bar. They watch Chanhee from across the club, seeing him giggling with a girl. Sunwoo takes a sip of soju, letting out a sigh as he remembers his failed attempts of asking you on a date.

“No one’s ever said no to me before, so that shit kinda hurt my ego.” Minji rolls her eyes, muttering about how you must either be blind or stupid, or both.

probably both.

“Maybe I should’ve made Chanhee do it.” Sunwoo flashes her a glare, turning away to look around the club. His thoughts keep going back to the first time you turned him down, and he chugs the rest of his soju.

“Here’s the bouquet! I hope your friend likes them.” You tell Sunwoo with a smile, handing him the delicate yellow bouquet. He grins at the bright assortment, finding them a lot prettier than expected. He glances up at you, finding himself staring into your eyes once again as he says,

“She’ll love them, thank you.” You nod your head, typing into the computer that you’ve given the client the flowers. Sunwoo stands idle for a moment, and you look back at him, wondering why he hasn’t left yet.

“Is there something else-”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Your eyes widen, clearly taken aback by his request, before you chuckle, “No thank you.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at- wait.” You stare at him in amusement as he fumbles over his words. “Did you say no?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“I know the type of guy you are, Sunwoo.” Sunwoo’s shocked expression turns into an amused smile, and you watch as he even lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. He leans onto his elbows on the counter, staring into your eyes, “And what may that be?”

You smile, and he waits for your response. You lean onto the counter as well, watching as Sunwoo swallows from the close distance between the two of you that you initiated.

“The one that makes any girl he wants melt into putty in his hands. Then when he gets what he wants, he leaves. I’m not going to fall for it, Kim Sunwoo.” He blinks at you in shock, and you give him a sweet smile, leaning back and taking a sip of water from your water bottle.

“Have a wonderful day.” Sunwoo snaps out of his state of surprise, and lets out a deep chuckle, looking at you with a challenge to his eye.

“I’ll prove you wrong, pretty. I’ll see you around.”

Sunwoo scowls at the memory, and Minji lets out a sigh when she turns her head to see the crease between his eyebrows. She reaches up and rubs the area with her thumb until the frown disappears, and she gives him a smile.

“Let’s dance, hm?” Not waiting for his answer, she grabs Sunwoo’s hand and brings him onto the dance floor. They sway with each other for a few minutes, with Sunwoo clearly still thinking of you as he blindly follows Minji’s lead. She squints at how unusual Sunwoo’s being, and pats the top of his head.

“She’ll come around Sunu, they always do. When she does, remember the plan.” Minji says in an attempt to reassure him, and he bites his lip, thoughts trailing back to your smile as he says,

“She’s not like them though.”

“Sunwoo, why are you here again?” You ask boredly as you spray the daisies at the front of the shop, not even sparing him a glance. He freezes, before holding out an unopened boba, and you finally turn your head to see him looking at anything but you. “I got you the classic pearl green milk tea, I wasn’t sure what your favorite flavor was so I decided to play it safe.”

You stare for a moment, finding it sort of endearing that he’s too shy to even glance at you right now. Deciding to be nice, you reach out and take it, feeling warmth flood your face when he finally locks eyes with you. Sunwoo wipes his original surprised expression off his face, now smiling at the fact that you took the drink.

It’s been three weeks since Sunwoo’s ordered those flowers, and he’s visited the shop every time you're on shift. He hasn’t even bought flowers since the day he ordered the bouquet, he just comes to talk to you and help out in the shop. He keeps trying to take you out on a date, but you never give him the time of day. Your own boss has fallen for him, nudging your hip and telling you to “say yes to the handsome man already!” You’ve never heard of Sunwoo trying so hard to get with someone, let alone drag it out for three weeks. So now you’re left wondering if he genuinely does like you?

“It’s my favorite flavor, thank you.” Sunwoo lets out a sigh of relief, and the corner of your lip quirks up. You cough into your shoulder, turning around to walk back into the shop after an awkward silence settles over the two of you. He reaches out and grasps your elbow softly to stop you, and you slowly turn your head to look back at him.

“Are you going to ask me if I can go out with you again?”

“…”

“You already know my answer, Sunwoo.”

“Give me one night.” You don’t pull away, and he takes it as a sign to continue. “Let me take you out on one date, and I’ll let you decide whether I’m the type of guy you think I am. You can leave whenever you want, I just want one chance with you.” You stare into his eyes, finding truth to his words, and you let out a sigh.

“Okay.” Sunwoo tries to fight the smile emerging onto his face, resulting in his pretty lips quivering a bit.

“Okay.”

“… Okay.”

“I’ll see you.” Sunwoo says, turning around and beginning to walk away. You immediately frown, “You’re not going to give me your number?!”

“Check the boba!” He yells back, and you glance at the cup to see his number written on it, along with a message.

have a good day at work, yn <3

Biting your lip to stop the warmth from rushing to your cheeks, you turn your head to look at Sunwoo’s retreating figure. A smile breaks out on your face when you see him raise his hands in the air in victory, and you feel your heart warm.

“I guess he’s serious.”

“Hey, I’m here.” Sunwoo says into his phone, and he chuckles at the numerous curses you mutter as you slip on your shoes in a hurry. “I’ll be out in a sec!”

Hanging up the phone, Sunwoo makes sure the passenger seat is clean. He grabs his water bottle, taking a sip as you step into the car. When he swallows the water, he opens his mouth to greet you, only to pause when he lays eyes on you.

Instead of the t-shirt, jeans, and apron he always sees you in at work, you’re wearing a pleated black skirt with a white dress shirt and an oversized argyle patterned vest over it. Feeling Sunwoo’s stare on your side-profile as you buckle in your seatbelt, you turn your head and lock eyes with him, and he snaps out of his daze.

“You, uh.” He coughs into his shoulder in an attempt to hide the blush rising up his cheeks, “You look pretty.” Sunwoo muttters, and you smile shyly.

“Thanks, you look nice too.” He chuckles, pulling out of your driveway. “Just nice?”

“Just nice Sunwoo, don’t push my kindness.” You joke and he rolls his eyes at you. He hands you his phone for you to aux, and you smile happily as you search up a Day6 song to play. Sunwoo sneaks glances at you, and you chuckle when you notice his eyes continuing to be trained on you through your peripheral vision.

“You’re gonna get us in an accident if you keep turning your head to look at me.” He sputters, and you laugh at his reaction. He takes one more look at you as you giggle, finding the sound of your laugh a lot cuter than he should.

“Where are we going for our date?” You ask, and he shrugs. He takes a right at the stoplight before grinning at your question. “You’ll see.”

“Oooh, so it’s a surprise?” Sunwoo doesn’t respond, instead letting out a small hum to the tune of Day6’s new song. You smile, looking out the window to take in the view of Seoul at night for the remainder of the car ride.

“So, how was the date? It’s been like three weeks since we all last hung out like this. I need updates, Sunwoo, updates.” Minji asks as she flips the brisket on the grill. Chanhee takes a cooked piece, turning to look at his friend for his response.

Sunwoo stares at the meat quietly, a small grin appearing on his lips as he remembers how your guys’ first date ended.

“Can’t believe you fell while we were ice skating.” You giggle, and Sunwoo lets out a whine, patting his rather sore butt. He shoots you a playful glare, to which you stick your tongue out at him as he walks you to your door.

“At least I know I was able to make you laugh that hard on our first date.” Sunwoo jokes, and you give him a small smile. You’re surprised that tonight was so fun, it truly exceeded your expectations. The surprise location was the ice skating rink, to which you were incredibly excited for.

Sunwoo brought you there in hopes that he could teach you how to skate, but little did he know, you already knew how to. It ended up becoming a competition between the two of who could do the most intricate tricks. You won though, because Sunwoo literally ate shit when he tried to do an axle.

“So yn, what’s your final opinion of me after tonight? Am I the type of guy you originally thought I was?” Sunwoo asks once the two of you make it to your doorstep. You stare at him for a moment, taking in his handsome features. Tonight’s date was fun, and you learned a lot more about him than you ever thought you would. He’s charming, funny, kind, and lastly, you find him to be genuine.

As you look at Sunwoo, you let out a small breath when you come up with your verdict, and he nervously awaits your response even though he hides it well.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He repeats, and you give him a big smile as you open your front door. You slip off your shoes, and turn back to look at Sunwoo.

“Have to go on a second date to come up with my opinion.” You say, closing the door before he can ask more questions.

Sunwoo stands there for a moment, letting your words process in his brain. Once it finally hits him, he lets out a smile, clapping his hands in victory. Sunwoo pumps the air, stepping off your porch and heading towards his car with newfound confidence and excitement filling his veins.

It’s been three weeks since then, and you and Sunwoo have gone on three more “official dates.” The other times the two of you have hung out are for some reason, not considered dates, and more of you guys just bonding. Whether it be helping each other with homework, Sunwoo coming to help you at the shop, or the two of you doing late night convenience store runs to eat ramen, there’s something going on between the both of you.

Chanhee is able to sense something different as he stares at his friend, knowing that this was going to happen. Minji notices as well, considering that Sunwoo still hasn’t answered her question. She frowns at him, reaching out and slapping his arm. He jumps back, startled as he looks at his two best friends.

“You don’t like yn… right?” Minji asks, to which Sunwoo stares at her as memories of you flood his mind when he tries to come up with an answer.

He remembers the way your whole face lights up when food gets placed in front of you, and how you just let your glasses fog up when the two of you eat ramen. He’s tried to take your glasses off when you eat the hot noodle dish, but you would slap his hand away each time, giving him a smile.

“My glasses are just having a sauna, leave them be.”

Minji tilts her head to the side, and that’s when Sunwoo cracks a small smile, looking up at her. “No, I don’t like yn.”

You lay on your bed, scrolling through Twitter to try and find some cursed emoji pictures when you hear your front door unlock. Sunwoo steps in with a bucket of fried chicken, taking off his shoes and slipping into the pair of slippers you left by the door. He places the food on your kitchen counter, before walking over to your room and peeking his head inside to see you laying on your bed, not even giving him a glance.

“You know, if it wasn’t me who entered your house and instead it was some crazy serial killer, you absolutely would’ve died.” Sunwoo says, announcing his presence. You finally look away from your phone, giving him a sarcastic laugh before going back to Twitter. He scoffs, walking into your room and snatching your phone out of your hands.

“Hey!”

You open your mouth to argue, only for Sunwoo to interrupt by saying, “Come eat first, I brought chicken.” It promptly shuts you up, and you stand up off your bed, quickly following him into the kitchen.

You let out a squeal once you see the chicken, opening up the container and taking out a piece. You take a bite, and Sunwoo watches you with a knowing grin on his face. You squint your eyes at him, pointing at the chicken to get him to eat as well. He rolls his eyes, grabbing one and taking a bite.

The two of you spend the next half hour finishing up the chicken. With Sunwoo threatening to throw a bone at you, and you sneaking the crispy pieces of his chicken whenever he’s not looking. Once you’re both done though, you sit down on your couch, still a bit of space between the two of you.

You and Sunwoo have been hanging out for a month and a half now, him even having the spare key to your place while you have his. Sometimes he just randomly comes over to do homework on your floor which scares your roommate to death sometimes, while you sneak over to his at night to steal some of his soju when you run out. Other times you both just watch movies together or play video games. You don’t know what you guys are as neither of you have made a move to make it official.

In all honesty, all the two of you have done to progress your relationship is accidentally brush your hands together. Sunwoo’s just waiting to see if your opinion of him has officially changed, while you’re waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend as you are too shy to ask him.

“Yn.” You turn your head to look at Sunwoo, eyes glazing over his handsome features. His black hair that’s usually straight is resting in slight waves on his forehead, emphasizing the overall soft look that he has going on today. “Mm?”

“Have you come up with your final opinion?” Sunwoo asks, reaching out and tucking a stray piece of hair that fell over your nose behind your ear. When you look up into his eyes and he sees the sparkle in them, his hand freezes, staying rested on your cheek.

Your eyes slowly trail down at his pink lips, heart rate increasing when his tongue darts out to lick them. Sunwoo stares at you, feeling the tension in the room rise as he watches your eyes move back up from his mouth. His thumb brushes against your cheek, beginning to hear his heartbeat in his ears by how nervous he is.

“Yn.”

“Sunwoo.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sunwoo watches the way your eyes sparkle up at him, finding himself to be the luckiest man in the world to see you like this. You nod your head slowly, letting out a breath, “Yeah.”

Without wasting another second, Sunwoo leans in close and tentatively presses his lips to yours. Your hand reaches up, entangling your fingers into his hair. He pulls away, just to capture your lips again after a second of staring, slowly leaning you back until you’re laying on the couch.

i don’t like her. i don’t like yn. Sunwoo mutters in his brain like a mantra the more he kisses you. His hand lowers to your hip, squeezing it slightly when you tug on his hair again. He hears his heartbeat in his ears, tingles in his stomach when you slightly suck on his bottom lip.

i don’t like her. this is a game. this is for minji.

“Be my girlfriend?” Sunwoo whispers against your lips in between kisses, completely ignoring what the voices in his head are saying. You pull away, looking at him with wide eyes, but his gaze is focused on your pretty swollen lips.

“Did you just?” He glances up into your eyes, and he lets out a small smile. A giggle comes out of you, and you raise a hand to your warm face.

“Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend, Sunu.” Sunwoo bites his lip as a grin breaks out onto his face, before leaning back down and kissing you breathless again.

if i didn’t like her, then why do i feel like this? why do i wanna kiss her more, why do i only want to kiss her, why do i not want her kissing anyone else like this?

why does it feel like this isn’t just some game anymore?

“You’re crazy.”

“Says the one who tried to duct tape their friend to the wall once.”

“Okay, in my defense,” You stare at Sunwoo from across the table, giving him an amused smile as you wait for him to continue. “Chanhee let me duct tape him to the wall. It was a joint effort, yn.”

You roll your eyes, reaching out and hitting his shoulder lightly, before taking a sip of your boba. Sunwoo smiles at the sparkle in your eyes, taking note that the sunlight hitting your skin is as beautiful as the cherry blossoms blooming in the spring.

It’s been two months since you and Sunwoo have called it official, three and a half months since the day you guys met, and the two of you have become the talk of your guys’ university. Everyone who knows Sunwoo as the guy who never settles, has finally settled. You’re in the limelight as well, girls either being envious or worried for you, and guys nodding their head in approval at Sunwoo’s decision.

“You’re really pretty like this.” Your eyes widen in surprise at the sudden compliment, beginning to feel shy by Sunwoo’s stare. You look down at your boba, small smile taking over your features. “Like what?”

“Happy. You look pretty when you’re happy.” Sunwoo mutters softly, eyes holding an emotion that is indecipherable to you.

But it’s easy to read for Chanhee as he stares at the two of you from across the cafe. He shakes his head in disappointment, knowing that Sunwoo’s going to have to tell you the truth one day. Chanhee watches as Sunwoo reaches out and rests his hand over yours, a happy smile forming on his face when you make a joke.

i haven’t seen him this happy with another girl in a long time, Chanhee thinks to himself, taking one last sip of his boba. He walks over to the front doors, throwing his cup in the trash. He takes one more glance at the two of you, now finding you excitedly telling Sunwoo a story of who knows what while the latter just stares at you with a fond smile on his face.

All Chanhee knows is that you’re happy, and Sunwoo’s happy, but it’s going to be taken away as soon as you find out the truth.

“Sunwoo, when are you going to end things with yn? It’s been over three months since you two became ‘official’, I’m pretty sure she’s already head over heels for you.” Minji asks from her couch. She blows on her newly painted nails, making sure they dry properly. Chanhee shoots the striped ball into the pocket, taking note of the way Sunwoo visibly stiffens after the question is asked.

“She’s not head over heels.” Sunwoo answers, nodding his head once Chanhee misses the next striped ball. He leans down, getting ready to hit a solid. “Are you sure that’s it? Or have you forgotten our fucking plan?”

Sunwoo pauses, turning his head to look at Minji, only to find her glaring at him. Chanhee lets out a small sigh, pulling out his phone to try and distract himself as the tension in the room rises. Sunwoo rolls his eyes, turning back towards the pool table.

“You’re supposed to make yn fall in love with you and then break her heart so that Mark feels horrible. Did you forget that because you think she’s some good fuck?” Sunwoo slams the pool stick down on the table, actively startling Minji and Chanhee.

“You know that yn hasn’t even mentioned Mark since I first started talking to her? He hasn’t tried to see her either, you know that? It makes me wonder why you even decided to target yn in the first place.” Sunwoo says, turning his head to see Minji’s reaction. He watches as her demeanor shifts slightly, suddenly appearing to look guilty, and he squints at her. Sunwoo pushes off the pool table and walks over to Minji so that he’s standing a few feet from her.

“And don’t you ever degrade yn to just being a good fuck again.” Minji blinks up at Sunwoo, not used to having his anger directed towards her. Her initial shock shortly turns into rage. Laughing, she stands up off the couch to stand her ground. “What a joke, you fucking fell for her didn’t you?”

Sunwoo turns away, clenching his fists as he stares out Minji’s window. Chanhee watches from the pool table, feeling wracked by nerves as he watches his two best friends argue for the first time ever.

“Kim Sunwoo, the man at Seoul National University who was unattainable. The one who was called cold hearted because he’d break the hearts of people left and right, has developed feelings for the pawn in our game.” Minji sneers, now staring at Sunwoo with an amused look on her face. He finally turns and stares directly down into Minji’s eyes, feeling anger flood through him.

“And what about it?” Minji’s mouth drops open slightly, having not expected him to confess. Chanhee stares between the two of them, afraid of the tension rising in the room. “W-What?”

“I’m in love with yn. She’s witty, intelligent, funny, kind, beautiful; if you made a list of all the good traits in the ideal person then that’s yn’s description. I’m not going to play her like that, she’s no longer just a game. And I’m not going to be a pawn in your revenge plot anymore either.” Sunwoo states, before turning around to go and grab his phone. Minji reaches out and grabs his arm, but he doesn’t look back.

“You think she’s going to forgive you when she finds out?”

The room stays silent for a moment, and Minji thinks she’s won from the way Sunwoo’s staring at the floor. Her heartbeat picks up when Sunwoo rips his arm from her grasp, turning to glance at her.

“No, and I hope she won’t ever forgive me when she finds out. Yn deserves someone better than me. Someone who won’t blindly follow their friend and purposefully hurt a girl who didn’t do anything to be involved in this.” Sunwoo states, and Chanhee bites the inside of his cheek, looking down at the floor.

“I’m a horrible, selfish person for what I have done to yn, but I’m going to do at least one thing right and tell yn the truth, myself.” Sunwoo explains, before turning and walking towards the door, raising his hand up to grab the door handle.

“If you walk out that door, we’re no longer friends Sunwoo.” Minji threatens in one last weak attempt to get Sunwoo to stay, feeling afraid that she’s about to lose him. That she no longer has the control she once had over her best friend.

Sunwoo stills for a moment, before grabbing the door handle and ripping the door open, shutting it directly behind him. The slam of the door echoes through the room, a sense of finality settling itself upon Minji and Chanhee.

“Fuck.”

You hum quietly as you tend to the orchids, finding the blue ones to be incredibly pretty on this sunny day. The sound of the door chime rings throughout the shop, and you turn your head to greet the incoming customer.

“Hi! Welcome to Bloom Bloo-”

“Yn?” Your eyes widen when you recognize your old friend, immediately breaking out into a smile as you stand up at your full height to wave at him.

“Mark! What are you doing here?” You ask as you walk over towards him, and he gives you a grin as he opens his arms and pulls you into his embrace. Your eyes widen slightly at the skinship, having briefly forgotten how Mark shows his love as you tentatively wrap your arms around him, patting his back.

“I came to order a burger and fries, actually.” Mark answers when he pulls away, and you squint at the man, pushing him with your hand as you walk over to the register, listening to him laugh that contagious laugh of his from behind you.

“Haha, so funny.” You say, trying to fight back the smile that’s threatening to break out onto your face. Mark catches it though, and giggles to himself. “Based on the smile you’re fighting, I can see that you hold some truth behind that statement.”

You shake your head, turning back towards your friend and getting a good look at him. His brown hair is parted to the side, showing off his forehead and nice eyebrows. He’s wearing a brown hoodie with a black puffer jacket over it, and you purse your lips, wondering why it seems like he put in a bit more effort into his appearance.

“Are you checking me out, yn?” Mark asks with a teasing grin, and you roll your eyes. You open your mouth to respond, only to pause when you hear a familiar voice ring through the shop.

“You better be talking about a bouquet of flowers.” You and Mark look towards the entrance to see Sunwoo standing there, frown on his face. He squints when he locks eyes with Mark, and the brunette raises an eyebrow when he recognizes the man.

“Sunwoo?”

“Sunu, with how much you come into the shop, you should just apply for a job here.” You joke, watching as Sunwoo’s features immediately soften slightly when he looks over at you. He lets out a small smile, shaking his head at you.

“I wouldn’t be able to bring in as many customers as you, anyways.” Sunwoo tells you, walking over and patting your head over the counter.

You grin, grabbing one of the daisy flower crowns you made in the morning and placing it over Sunwoo’s head. Mark glances between the two of you, and he finds himself squinting at Sunwoo when he remembers his reputation on campus.

“You two are dating?” Mark asks, and you nod your head.

“For a bit over four months now.” Sunwoo adds, feeling his heart thump against his chest as Mark stares at him with a hint of suspicion in his gaze. The brunette simply turns back towards you, and gives you a smile.

“I’m happy for you, yn. You’ve been single for as long as I can remem-” Mark sputters when you spray him with the spray bottle full of water, and Sunwoo bites back the laugh that almost escapes him. Mark wipes his eyes and shoots you a glare, making you giggle a bit.

“Yn! I have a date in an hour, don’t ruin my hair.” Mark whines, and you laugh, “Then don’t boast about how lonely I was!”

A frown forms on Sunwoo’s face as he watches you and Mark begin to discuss the numerous bouquet options he can choose from for his upcoming date. The memory of Minji saying that you were the one Mark was showing interest in plays in his mind, and he bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if that was ever even true.

“Take care of those, I made that bouquet this morning!” You say, breaking Sunwoo out of his thoughts as Mark carefully takes the arrangement of flowers from your grasp. He nods his head, “Careful is my middle name.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun on your date!” You tell Mark, and he smiles, nodding his head. It comes to Sunwoo’s surprise when Mark turns to him, gesturing towards the door.

“Can you get the door for me, man?” Sunwoo nods his head, walking over and pushing open the door for him. The brunette smiles, walking through the door, but stopping to quietly mutter,

“I know how your trio used to do things in high school, and I know that Minji was upset when I ended things. I only broke up with her because I learned of the type of people you guys are. This better not be one of your trio’s games, because yn doesn’t deserve that. And if it is, then end it now.”

Sunwoo stands frozen as Mark gives him one more smile and sends a wave towards you, before walking out the door. You tilt your head at your boyfriend, wondering why he looks so guilty as he stares down at the ground.

“Sunwoo? Are you okay?” You ask, seemingly breaking him out of his daze. Sunwoo looks back towards you, giving you a smile as he walks over. “Did Mark say something? He’s always been protective, even when we were younger.”

Sunwoo shakes his head at you, reaching out across the counter and taking ahold of your hand. You raise an eyebrow, watching as Sunwoo cups your hand within both of his.

“What’s on your mind, Sunu?”

“Are you free tomorrow?” Sunwoo asks instead, and you stare at him in silence for a moment. You let out a small giggle, shaking your head and reaching out with your free hand, patting the top of his head, the delicate petal of one of the daisies brushing against your wrist.

“Were you nervous about asking me on a date? That’s so cute, but yes. I should be free tomorrow.” Sunwoo gives you a smile, and you find that it doesn’t really reach his eyes as he stares at you.

“Great. I’ll meet you at the bus stop tomorrow, okay?” Sunwoo asks, and you nod your head, warmth flooding your face as you stare at your boyfriend. Sunwoo bites the inside of his cheek from the stars in your eyes, wondering how he’ll ever be able to tell you the truth. He lets go of your hand after pressing a soft kiss to the back of it, turning and walking towards the doors, but stopping to glance back at you.

“See you, pretty.” Sunwoo tells you, and you smile at the nickname.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunwoo!” He grins, pushing open the glass doors and walking out of the shop.

The smile on his face falls once he’s far from the flower shop, and he takes a deep inhale of the Summer air, the daisy flower crown that’s resting over his head suddenly feeling heavy. He finds that it resembles the weight of his heart as he knows that everything’s about to be broken.

one day. i just want to spend one last day with yn.

You sit on the bench by the bus stop, waiting for Sunwoo to arrive so that the two of you can go to the aquarium. You unlock your phone to see if there’s a new message from him, only to see no new notifications.

“I know the feeling.” You jump up, turning towards the sudden voice to find a pretty girl standing beside you. Her brown hair falls in waves down her shoulders, and she’s wearing an off the shoulder floral top paired with a beige skirt. You tilt your head to the side, finding her rather familiar.

“Hi yn, I’m Minji. Sunwoo’s friend.” She introduces, and you have to stop yourself from letting out an ohhh because now you recognize her. “Oh, hi Minji.” You reach out and shake her hand, giving her a smile.

“Are you waiting for the bus?” You ask, and she shakes her head, letting out a small laugh. “I drove. In all honesty, I came to pick you up.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, having no clue as to where you’d even go since you haven’t met Minji before. She gives you a smile, “Sunwoo told me to come get you because he’s running a bit late due to Chanhee being silly, per usual. He said he’ll come pick you up at my house.”

“He did?”

“You don’t believe me?” You immediately raise your hands up to tell her you didn’t mean to imply that she’s a liar, but Minji stops you right away while giggling at your antics. “I was kidding yn, don’t worry. Now, do you want to come hangout at my house or do you want to wait here by the bus stop?”

You stare at her for a moment, before letting out a small smile. “I think there’s an obvious answer in that question.”

“Wow! Your house is so nice.” You state as you stare in awe at all the beautiful artworks put on display. Minji waves her hand at you, telling you not to flatter her so much. You follow her up to her room, still looking around with child-like fascination.

damn, this almost makes me feel bad. she’s kinda sweet. Minji thinks to herself as the two of you finally make it up to her room. She places her bag down by her bed, removing the earrings from her ears. You stand shyly by the door, unsure of where to sit, or if you’re even allowed to sit. Minji turns towards you with a grin on her face.

“You can sit over there, yn.” She tells you, pointing over towards the small couch in the corner by her desk. You nod, walking over to go and sit down, only to pause once you see a corkboard laying over the wooden surface.

“I’m going to use the restroom, be right back.” Minji announces, a smile on her face when she sees you staring at the board. She walks out of the room, pulling her phone out of her pocket to call Sunwoo.

“What?” Sunwoo answers as he heads towards the bus stop where you’re waiting. He lets out a soft smile down at the lavender daisies he bought on his way, planning to surprise you with them since they’re your favorite flower. He remembers the small box in his room, a gift he plans to give you after you guys get back from the aquarium. “Just wanted to let you know that you should probably turn around and head over to my house.”

Your hand slowly lifts up the board, tears filling your eyes.

“Why?” Sunwoo pauses when he doesn’t see you sitting at the bench the two of you agreed to meet at. He lowers the flowers once he realizes what Minji means, cursing to himself before turning around and beginning to sprint.

“Have a nice run.” Minji says cheerfully, hanging up the phone and placing it onto the bathroom counter. She smiles, walking into the bathroom to splash water onto her face in an attempt to wash away the small feeling of regret.

You stare at the photos of you taken from your social media, gaze following the red line that lands on different notes with the names of the places you work and hangout at. Your heart shatters as you read the instructions on what to do when Sunwoo meets each new step with you. Your eyes land on the very last note, and it takes everything in you to not crumple onto the floor.

break her heart.

The feeling of wanting to vomit builds up in your throat, the realization that you were just a pawn in their sick game slamming into you like a train. That you fucking fell for it, you fell for him. You drop the board, stepping away from it as if it’s cursed. You quickly leave the room, dashing down the steps and running out the door. Minji watches from upstairs, letting out a sigh once you slam the door shut.

The tears blur your vision as you run off her property, trying to get as far away as you can. You slam straight into a hard chest, stumbling backwards that their hands have to reach out and grasp your arms so that you don’t fall. You wipe away your tears with the back of your hands, opening your mouth to apologize, only to stop when you realize who helped you.

Sunwoo stares back at you, sweat dripping down his face from running, purple daisies on the ground beside him, now missing multiple petals. You rip your arms out of his grasp, feeling a sob bubble up in your chest as the two of you stare at each other in silence.

“Yn, I-”

“Don’t. Just. Stay away from me.” You state, attempting to walk around him, only for him to stop you.

“Yn, please. Let me explain. I can tell you everything, please just-”

“Explain what? That you used me for your revenge plot? That you strung me along for months when I had nothing to do with what happened between Mark and Minji? That you just think of me as some fucking joke?” Sunwoo shakes his head, grasping your arms to try and plead with you. The sob finally breaks out, and you reach up to cover your face. “God, no. Yn, you’re not a joke. You could never be a joke. I never meant for it to get this far. It was all a plan at first but then I got to know you and I fell in l-”

“S-Save it. I don’t want to hear anymore lies.” You mutter, and Sunwoo’s eyes begin to water when you remove his hands from your arms. You stare at him, tears continuing to fall from your eyes as you do so, wondering how you let this happen.

how you let yourself fall for him.

“I-I just wanted one more day. One more day with you, and I was going to tell you everything.” Sunwoo chokes out, hands shaking by his sides as he waits for a response. After a moment of silence, he tentatively reaches up to try and rest his hand on your cheek, “Please, yn. Let me explain-”

“How come I have to get punished just because I love you?”

Sunwoo pauses, staring into your pained eyes as his hand slowly lowers back down to his side. The sparkle that he was so used to, now replaced with the glassiness from your tears. You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, realizing you confessed that you love him for the first time.

How unfortunate.

With that, you turn around and walk away from him, not looking back. Sunwoo watches your figure shrink until you’re out of sight, and he drops to his knees, tears finally streaming down his face. He rests his face onto his arm, crying loudly as his heart completely shatters from what he ruined. While Minji watches from her gate, gulping down the feeling of guilt as she stares at her best friend experiencing heartbreak for the first time.

“I hope you’re eating well and taking care of yourself. I-” Sunwoo says into the phone as he stares up at his ceiling. Chanhee stares at him from his doorway, feeling sad for his best friend. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sunwoo mutters, ending the call before the voicemail can catch the sound of him crying. He places his phone beside him, covering his face with his hands to try and muffle his sobs.

It’s been three weeks since you found out the truth, and Sunwoo’s been calling you everyday since then. He’s refused to leave his room unless it’s to use the restroom or grab food. Other than that, he rots in his bed all day, the feeling of regret and resentment towards himself flooding his veins.

That and soju, lots of soju.

“Sunu, do you want me to bring in the dinner I made?” Chanhee asks, and Sunwoo doesn’t answer, turning over in bed and covering his face with a pillow instead. “You need to eat.”

Sunwoo just curls up even more, closing his eyes as more tears escape. Chanhee lets out a small sigh, walking out to go and grab the food anyways. He lifts up the tray, carefully stepping back into Sunwoo’s room and placing it on his desk.

“It’s there if you need it.” Chanhee says softly, before closing the door.

While you, you’ve also been laying in bed for the past three weeks. Currently you’re listening to the last voicemail Sunwoo left you, crying as you hear his voice shake towards the end when he apologizes. You turn over, clutching your pillow tightly against your chest as you sob. Your roommate looks at your closed door, concern written all over their features as they hear your loud cries.

You haven’t been to work as you called in sick. Your manager understands, having heard from your roommate that you’re not in the best mental state. All you’ve done is eat, sleep, and sit in the shower for hours at a time, just letting the water run over you.

While Sunwoo has hurt you deeply, you can’t help but miss him. You yearn to hear out his side, try and be understanding, try again, but then you remind yourself that you were just a game.

just a game.

“Hi, is yn home?” Your roommate points towards your room. “Be careful though, she hasn’t really left her room for the past month.”

Chanhee gives her an understanding nod, knowing that Sunwoo’s doing the same thing. He slips off his shoes, before walking over to your door and knocking softly on the surface. You turn your head, muttering for them to come in, expecting your roommate. Your eyes widen when the door opens and you recognize Chanhee, Sunwoo’s best friend. You sit up, clutching the pillow tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Chanhee tentatively reaches his hands out, handing you a bag. You raise an eyebrow, taking it from him and looking inside. You let out a breath when you see a jewelry box. You lift it out of the bag, slowly opening it and biting back another sob when you lay eyes on the necklace.

“He was going to give it to you the day you guys were supposed to go to the aquarium, as a way to tell you he loves you, and that he’s sorry.” Chanhee explains, and you stare at the way the light reflects against the daisy pendant of the necklace.

“I know you might not want to hear this at all, but I’ve never seen Sunwoo pine after someone, let alone fall in love with one. Yet, I saw both of those things happen with you.” You slowly look up at Chanhee, who’s giving you a small, hopeful smile. “I know what he did was shitty, I tried to stop them from including you in the plan in general. I just, I’ve seen how you’ve changed him for the better. I know Sunwoo, and I know that he really regrets what he did. He wouldn’t be calling and texting you everyday if he didn’t. He doesn’t even text me, honestly.”

You look at the necklace, feeling sad, but somehow a bit better, more reassured. You glance back up at Chanhee, giving him a nod. “Thank you Chanhee.”

He gives you a smile, “Of course. Anything for your guys’ happiness.”

It’s been a month and a half since everything happened, and you’re finally leaving your room. It’s not much in your eyes, but your roommate was ecstatic about it, even though it’s just a trip to the convenience store. It’s also quite literally two am, but they said, any outside air is good air! You trudge over in your grey sweats and oversized black sweater, lifting up your glasses to rub your eye with the back of your hand.

Once you’re at the convenience store, you head straight towards the ramyun, grabbing the eight pack and walking out of the aisle. You step over to the register, pulling out your card to pay for it. The chime of the door opening grabs your attention, and you tiredly look up, only to freeze when you lock eyes with Sunwoo.

He doesn’t look any better, bags prominent under his eyes, black t-shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders. However, you still see him as the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. Shock is evident on his features as he stares at you, unsure of what to do. Sunwoo’s eyes trail down when something flickers at him, seeing the daisy pendant glimmer back at him from the light. He opens his mouth to say something, only for you to turn back towards the cashier once they hand you the bag of ramyun and your receipt.

Sunwoo clenches his fist, walking over towards the aisle where the soju is. You let out a shaky sigh, turning your head to look at his retreating figure, debating on following after him. After a moment, you shake your head, choosing to walk out of the store sadly.

Sunwoo stares at the box of soju for a moment after hearing the bells, signaling you left the store. He bites the inside of his cheek, having an internal battle with himself.

What if she doesn’t even wanna talk to me? She hasn’t answered my calls or texts for the last month and a half, that means she hates me.

I have no chance, she’ll never forgive me.

She shouldn’t forgive me for what I did.

I miss her.

Fuck.

Sunwoo immediately turns around and runs towards the door, forcefully shoving it open and feeling the cool night air hit him. He’s about to rush in the direction of your house, but immediately stops when he sees you waiting right there, sitting on the steps, your bag of ramyun placed beside you. You slowly turn your head, looking up at Sunwoo.

“Yn.”

“Sunwoo.”

The two of you stare in silence again, and you break it by patting the empty space beside you.

“I don’t think anyone will come to the shop in awhile, it’s literally two am.” You say, and Sunwoo lets out a breathless chuckle. He takes another step before sitting down beside you, and that’s when you both fall into another silence. Except this time it’s more comforting, being with each other after yearning for so long but knowing it was best to stay away.

“You look like shit.” You state, effectively breaking the silence, and Sunwoo glances at you, a grin gracing his features. He turns away, shaking his head and looking up towards the stars. “I know.”

You follow suit, staring up at the stars as well. A small smile appears on your face after a moment, and you turn your head to look at Sunwoo, only to realize he’s already staring at you. He lets out a content sigh, finding the stars slowly making their way back into your eyes. You turn away once you feel the warmth rush up to your cheeks, choosing to look at the parked car in front of the two of you. He looks back up towards the stars, trying to find which one shines the brightest.

Sunwoo comes to the conclusion that you shine brighter than the billions of stars in the sky as he does so.

“I’m sorry.” Sunwoo says after a moment, the sound of resentment present in his voice, and you let out a breath.

“I know.”

The two of you sit in silence, staring at your surroundings. A tear slips past your eye, and you wipe it away with your sweater paw. You wrap your arms around your knees, hugging them close to your chest as you stare at the empty road.

“I missed you, Sunwoo.” Sunwoo harshly bites the inside of his cheek, tears falling past his eyes as he continues to stare up at the night sky.

“I missed you too, yn.”

You let out a shaky breath after a moment, before leaning over and resting your head on Sunwoo’s shoulder. He freezes slightly at the contact, but relaxes. After a moment, he lays his head over yours, and that’s when you both know you’ll be okay.

we’ll be okay.

#ficscafe #kim sunwoo x reader #sunwoo x reader #kim sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo scenarios #kim sunwoo angst #kim sunwoo fluff #kim sunwoo #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #the boyz x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff

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mypassionsarenysins · 3 years

Text

disremembered.

Past!Steve Rogers x Reader, Bruce Wayne x Reader.

Summary: Steve Rogers had lived his life, it was only fair for you to live yours right?

Author’s Note: okay so another crossover and for this I’m thinking of Christian Bale batman, so read at your discretion. It’s also a lil sad and some happy parts. Thank you to @stuckonjbbarnes @honeyloverogers and @buckysmischief

Steve stared at the roof looking at the white pristine celling.

He waited for the other person on the other side of the room to finish with her nightly routine.

He kept staring at the ceiling closing his eyes and for a brief moment he felt you.

His mind had the ability of taking him back to that night, the moment he decided to leave her. Trying to conquer an illusion, a fleeting moment of what should have been.

His mind told him to do it, but his heart.

His heart was the most unforgiving part of himself that never really let it go.

And now here he is age clear on his face, wrinkles in his one youthful hands that made you laugh, that held you when you cried, now old and lonely.

He had everything he was looking for, or so he thought.

A knock on the door interrupted his thought making Steve get up from the bed looking outside the window as he makes his way to the front door.

He opens the door smiling at the man on the other side who had his infamous frown plastered on his face.

“Come in please,” Steve motions to the living room but the man on the other side doesn’t make a move, for a moment it looks like he could burn at the mere thought of walking through the door.

“No,” the man says anger written clear on his features.

“Bucky you’ve been here before,” Steve motions with pleading eyes, but Bucky stays unmoving.

“You really think I wouldn’t know that Scott wouldn’t tell us what you wanted to do,” Bucky says as he gets more and more exasperated.

“It’s not what you think,” Steve please as he closes the door and walks to the porch Bucky leaving as much distance as possible.

“No it’s much worse,” Bucky says.

“Sam and I receive this call from Scott saying that you met to get back to the past to get back to her.” Bucky says.

“You already lived your life Steve, you have a wife, kids, and grandkids.” Bucky motions at the house.

The house that he build but thought of you in every detail, when Peggy would ask about why he would say.

“Because its meant to be that way.”

She never really mentioned it again but the essence of her was in the house of all time.

From the constant need to have sunflowers in the kitchen because,

“Steve if there is gonna be flowers in the kitchen its gonna be sunflowers.” You said softly as you unwrapped the bright flowers from the brown paper.

Or how he still kept the little folded handkerchief you embroided because,

“That is more your style Steve.” You said softly as you stand on your toes and kiss him softly on the lips.

After all those years Steve could still see you, feel you, and on some night he can almost touch you.

“Bucky I don’t think you understand, this, this is meant to be hers,” Steve says looking up at the house that took him a good decade yo built.

When Peggy asked him why the changes to the house he was never brave enough to admit that the house never felt his and Peggy’s, he always felt this should’ve been your house with him.

“This is not her house Steve! She already has a home,” Bucky says accentuating each word he said.

“Her home, with her fiancé” Bucky said louder coming face to face to the man in front of him.

The words surprised Steve more than it should. He knew he had no right to complain at this point. You were free the moment he left her, he assumed you would move forward, but he felt the slight betrayal in his core.

But who was Steve to judge when he was the first one to move forward.

Still that voice in the back of his mind that always brought you up was, angry, to say the least.

Steve takes a deep breath and takes a seat over the rocking chairs on the front porch. Another touched you where enamored by.

“Steve, when we get our house he have to put rocking chairs in the front porch.” You said sternly yet a smile shone on your face.

“Why is that sweetheart?” Steve ask as serially as he can with you sitting on his lap.

“Because I know we are growing old together, and you of all people should know that people of a certain age like rocking chairs on the porch, old man.” You say that last part and leap out of his lap running away you giggles is all that can be heard in the apartment as Steve laughs and runs after you.

“Tell me about it,” Steve motions to the chair, but Bucky stays still.

“Steve you just have to let it go,” Bucky tries to appeal Steve but he knows it’s a lost cause.

Bucky sighs and sits on the step on the porch, his back turned to Steve as he recalls the news and everything that lead up to it.

“She actually left New York a couple of weeks after you left,” Bucky recalls with sadness on his eyes.

Bucky remembers how betrayed he felt, you where leaving him, just like Steve. Of course now he realizes it was for the best, but at the moment, he had a different mind set.

“You are gonna leave me to? Huh? My so called new sister, just gonna walk away like him?” Bucky yells angry as you turn to him shocked face and tears on your eyes.

“You don’t get to compare what happened,” You drop the box in your hands and sob. Your sobs clear Bucky’s head for a minute.

“Steve left us Bucky, he left to follow his dreams, I am allowed to try to move forward!” You yell from the place on the floor as you hug your knees.

Bucky slowly approaches you realizing that this is bigger than he could’ve ever imagined. He realized in that moment that he was supposed to be Steve’s past, but you, you that opened you life to him.

You so soft and tender, never an ounce of judgment or regret of letting him in.

You that tenderly took care of him, welcome him into your home, and called him your brother to anyone who would listen.

You where supposed to be Steve’s future.

And now all you both had left was the whole Steve Rogers left.

“Don’t cry petal, I’m sorry,” He says tenderly as he reaches for you slowly.

“Do you think that I want to leave my home. My whole life behind.” You say as you calm down and look at Bucky with sadness, but love for him.

“I know Steve left you too, but you can come with me to Gotham. “ you say as you look at him with determination.

“But New York is my home,” Bucky tries to reason.

“But it’s bit mine anymore,” You say softly as you hold his hand.

“I am always here Bucky, I just can’t be here anymore.” You motion at the left overs of you heart.

“I know I am just afraid,” Bucky rest his head on your shoulder.

“I know but I am you sister James Barnes,” you say determination clear in his voice.

“ Also someone’s gotta keep an eye on Sam, he’s your responsibility now you know? Handling Captan Americas’. That should be you new name.” You joke making Bucky laugh.

“Alright let’s finish this before the pigeon arrives and see us sad. He can stand people being sad, he always has to be so happy and sunshine-y.” Bucky says as he stands up and hold his hand out for yours.

You smile up at him as he hold you up he envelops his arms around you hugging you desperately.

“Thank you, for being here, I am really going to miss you,” he says softly.

“I am always here, never forget that,” you whisper.

As you continue to hug the front door announce loudly the third person of the party arrived.

“So I go out for pizza in the cold streets of New Yorker and this is how I find you red eyes and hugging like we are never gonna see each other again?” Sam asks leaving the two large pizzas on the table.

“As if you could get rid so easily of me,” you say as you open you arms, Sam jumping in.

“Never petal, we are family here.” Sam says as Bucky hums in agreement.

“Okay that’s enough of the mushy stuff we gotta get this lady to Gotham city!” Sam yells as you all laugh.

In that moment Bucky felt like everything would be alight and true to your word, even if you had to fly to New York or Louisiana, you where there even of it was for something as simple as birthdays, holidays, or just because Bucky was missing you.

Bucky tells the story more of a reminder of who you where, than to tell Steve about you.

From the past years Bucky visited Steve he never brought you up. He felt like his loyalty was to you.

“So she left everything behind huh?” Steve wonder heaviness in his heart, but a small light shining knowing Bucky was never really alone.

“I think thats what she needed to heal.” Bucky says standing up.

“She was always there, at the end of the line.” Bucky says harshly and with protection written all over the place.

“Bucky,” Steve stands up to reach him.

“I need to go weddings gonna be next week and I can’t wait. I’m giving her away,” Bucky says as a smile makes a way to his eyes.

“You know I always thought I’d be you at the end of the altar.” Bucky says as he starts leaving.

“Also if you really need to know you should look at social media, everything you want to know about him is there.” Bucky says walking out suddenly he stops.

“Tell the misses I said goodnight.” Bucky says looking up at the house one last time as he gets on his bike driving away leaving a trail on dirt behind him.

Steve sits there for a while emotions swirling in his being.

As he pulls his cellphone out he hears soft steps and he looks up to look at his wife.

“Steve you’ve been here for an hour what happened?” Peggy says taking the chair next to him concern on his face.

“I just- Bucky came over, he just needed someone to talk to.” Steve says as he tries to smile hiding yet more emotions form his wife.

He was good at that, he guessed.

“Oh strange he didn’t stay,” she shrugs standing up.

“Yeah guys stuff you know,” Steve tries to laugh as Peggy smiles at him.

“Oh this also arrived on the mail today,” Peggy hands him a white luxurious envelope.

“Alright I’m going to bed,” She says as she kisses his cheek.

“Okay I’ll be there in a minute.” He says as she heads back inside.

He looks at the envelope and think nothing of it thinking its an invitation from Pepper. As he opens it and reads it he stays silent his eyes roaming all over the written words.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

Bruce Thomas Wayne And (Y/N)(Y/M/N)(Y/L/N)

Who’s nuptials will be taking place in

The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Located at 1000 5th Ave, New York, New York.

Steve can’t even finish reading as he drops the paper.

Anger and sadness fill him as he stares at the mocking piece of paper on the floor.

He takes out his phone opening google and typing Bruce Wayne and thousands of result pop up. He opens the wikipedia article and starts reading. After reading some information he looks at the some pictures and he sees it. You and him on a red carpet for one of his galas or something smiles all over as he click the article states very clear that since you went public with him he was seen visibly happier. He can’t help but mad at him, you, and specially himself.

He sits again in the rocking chair, the one you where meant to grow old together on, and stare at the horizon thinking of you and what to do with the wedding invitation at his feet.

How could he get back to you?

#steve rogers x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #bruce wayne #Steve Rogers #dc #marvel

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cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

♡ — pairing: eren x reader

♡ — tags/warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol. side aruani and yumihisu. honestly just a feel-good fic, with humour and fluff <3

♡ — a/n: honestly, this is the most “romantic comedy” fic i’ve ever written and i love it <3 shout out to @ofoceansandtombstones that beta read this one mwah thank u

♡ — masterlist

There was an ill taste in your mouth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how many drinks you had. And you already had more than a few. From your spot on the table, you could see your friends dancing and having the time of their lives. You really wished you could join them. Nevertheless, you had wasted all your energy forcing a smile and clapping along during the ceremony. Once you had arrived at the hotel reception with the rest of the guests, you had slid a bill to a kind waitress and told her to keep the drinks coming.

Ymir and Historia were dancing in front of you. Stoic, sour-faced Ymir couldn’t help but smile as her sweet girlfriend twirled and giggled, her cheeks red and eyes just the tiniest bit unfocused. Next to them, Sasha, Jean and Connie were owning the dance floor, moving in sync to the happy music. A grin formed on your face as you saw Connie lifting Sasha up and her almost falling to the floor. Jean was holding his stomach as he laughed loudly.

On a nearby table, Mikasa looked over at them, a small smile on his lips. She was sitting next to her girlfriend, who was holding her hand as they watched their friends dance. You saw her girlfriend leaning over to her and whispering something in her ear, to which she chuckled. It was so strange -and so beautiful- to see Mikasa laugh that it took you aback. And apparently, also the girl she was with, because her lips slightly parted as she watched her in awe.

“How’s the party animal doing?”

You looked up and saw Eren staring down at you with a funny expression. He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. The first two buttons were undone, and he was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and a beer on his other hand.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for everyone,” you replied with a shrug. Eren scoffed and took the seat next to you on the empty table, leaving his jacket on the nearest chair.

“I mean, I know attending your ex’s wedding isn’t bound to be a good time, but you’d think you would try to put on a happy face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, at least I’m here.”

“After Mikasa tried her best to convince you during a whole week,” he said. You turned your head to Eren, eyes wide open. “What? Of course she told me.”

“That little… That’s it, I’m going to tell her girlfriend about that one time Mikasa got drunk with us,” you muttered angrily, standing up. Eren was quicker and pulled you back to your seat.

“You and Armin broke up a year ago. Why are you so upset he’s moving on?”

Before you could answer, the music stopped and the dance floor erupted in applause. Eren and you watched as Armin and Annie walked in between their guests, greeting everyone as they made their way to the bride and groom table, covered with a pearl cloth and decorated with the finest flowers. Every detail screamed elegance and you knew Armin had been the one to decide most of it. It had his taste written in every napkin and strategically placed flower.

Armin’s smile was almost too big for his face and if you had to guess, those small red marks on the external corner of his eyes meant he had been crying just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes. So sentimental. On the other hand, Annie’s smile was far less noticeable, but for someone who always repressed her public displays of emotions as much, that little smile must have felt heavenly to her new husband.

Husband. You took a big gulp of your drink.

“I’m telling you this because I care for you,” Eren said, redirecting your attention to him. “You’re looking like a petty ex.”

“Rather be petty than a cheater,” you shrugged, finishing your drink. You gestured to the waitress and she immediately walked to you, handing you a full glass. Thanking her, you wasted no time in taking a sip.

Eren’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Armin never told you why we broke up, right?”

Eren scooted his chair closer to you and you bit back a laugh.

“He said you just weren’t good together,” he said, trying to remember his friend’s words. “And you said something similar when I asked you back then. Where does this ‘cheating’ thing come from?”

You let out a long sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t cheating. Not by definition, at least. But when your boyfriend starts dating someone else a week after you broke up a two-year-long relationship and he gets engaged four months later… you draw your own conclusions,” you explained, taking another sip of your drink and making a grimace. “Fuck, this one’s strong.”

After not getting a response from Eren for a long moment, you finally turned to look for his emerald eyes. You could almost see the numbers flying around his mind, trying to make sense of everything you had just told him. It was endearing.

“Wait, no-- wait,” Eren gestured at you with his hand. He stopped himself again and took a sip of his beer. “The first time Armin told me about Annie was in February. I remember it clearly. We were shopping for Mikasa’s birthday gift and then he went to pick something for Annie. And you guys broke up around Halloween, that’s the time I found you crying-- in Jean's backyard during our costume party.”

“We had a big fight at that party. We hadn’t broken up,” you clarified with a smirk. “He broke up with me after Mikasa’s birthday party. The same party he convinced me not to attend.”

Eren’s face dropped once all the pieces clicked together. He turned his body to look at the bride and groom table, where Armin and Annie were taking a sip of their champagne glasses and talking to each other enthusiastically, while the rest of their guests kept dancing.

“That son of a bitch,” he breathed out. You burst out laughing at his reaction. “No, I mean it! I really thought you had broken up during that Halloween party! You didn’t upload any more photos together, I don’t even remember even seeing you together--”

“I told you, we were fighting and… not in the mood for photos or public dates. Most of those months were spent at his apartment, fighting over really, really stupid things or just not texting each other for days,” you explained. “Honestly, when he broke up with me he made the decision I was too afraid to take. He was right, we weren’t good for each other anymore. But... fuck,” you chuckled icily. “I wish he would have broken up with me before getting with Annie.”

Eren listened in silence, his eyes still on his friend. You gave him time as you kept drinking, your gaze drifting to your friends again. You really wished you could have the energy to join them and forget Armin and Annie. It was true you didn’t love him anymore, yet seeing them together only made you remember how you had been fooled by someone you thought loved you the most.

You had had many dates ever since, but no one ever stuck. It was fun, getting someone’s attention for a couple of weeks, but then you couldn’t help but ghost them, putting up shitty excuses like wanting to focus on yourself and not having enough time to spare with them. You had lost so many amazing opportunities with both boys and girls that a couple of months ago you had decided to stop dating at all. It was lonely for sure, but at least you didn’t find yourself feeling guilty for not being able to open yourself up emotionally for someone else.

“Want to get back at him?”

You turned to Eren so fast you almost hurt your neck.

“What?”

“I have an idea. Just play along,” he explained, standing up.

“Eren, hey, what are you--”

“Everybody! If you could give me a minute please!”

You watched horrified as your friends started turning to you and Eren, confused at the commotion. Eren kept waving his hand, gathering more and more people’s attention, Armin and Annie included. He even gestured to the DJ to lower the music and she complied. In a few seconds, all the guests of the party were looking at you, who was still sitting down with a confused expression, a drink in your hand. Once he deemed enough people were looking at him, you saw him fumbling with his hands nervously.

“Eren,” you called for him again in a whisper, but all he did was take the drink you had in your hands and put it on the table.

“Sorry for interrupting, I know a lot of you were having a lot of fun dancing. But all I’m asking is one minute of your time. I hope that’s okay with you guys,” he grinned back to the bride and groom table, where they were as confused as all the guests around. “I have something really important to say.”

“Eren, no, you can’t tell them about--”

“No, no, give me a moment,” he hushed you again. The DJ walked to both of you and handed an inalambric microphone to Eren.

You didn’t like how devilish his smile turned.

“Great, thanks, this is much better,” he told the DJ, who just kindly smiled at him. “Anyway, I don’t want to take much of the bride and groom’s time, so I’ll try to be concise. The thing is…” he said, turning to face you. “I love you.”

Your mouth flew open as you heard multiple gasps coming from the guests. Yet, you couldn’t bother with looking anywhere but Eren’s eyes. What was he doing? Since when did he have feelings for you? If he wanted to say something, he could have easily said something a few minutes ago, when--

Just play along.

Oh.

Your questioning glare turned into a big smile and you noticed Eren softly nodding at you.

“You already know how much I love you. Honestly, I never get tired of telling you so. And hiding our love from our friends has probably been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sorry about that, Mikasa,” he said, gesturing to the woman.

You could imagine your friend’s dumbfounded face, but you knew better than to turn and check for yourself. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your laughter.

“So I’m here in front of all our friends and some other guests I don’t know to ask a simple question.”

In a swift movement, Eren got down on one knee. Your hand flew to cover your mouth, trying your best to hide any trace of laughing on your face. The flash of the cameras startled you for a moment, but that only meant Eren’s plan was working. The excited murmurs and squeals only fueled Eren, as he pulled up a ring and showed it to you. You immediately recognized it as one of the rings he had been wearing a few moments ago.

“Would you marry me?”

A huge, honest grin made its way to your face and you nodded quickly. You grabbed the microphone Eren was holding and spoke right into it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

You hadn’t listened to a crowd erupting in applause and cheers as loud as the guests at Armin’s wedding when Eren slid his ring on your finger. Once again, the flash of the cameras were right into the both of you as you leaped into his arms. He stood up while holding your body close to him, even giving you a small spin and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

When he finally put you down, the music resumed and all your friends began running to the both of you.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered to Eren, holding his face between your hands. He laughed.

“Kinda ruined the reception, huh?”

“When the fuck did this happen?” Jean inquired as soon as he reached you.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” Sasha whined, with a small pout. “But congratulations!” she quickly followed, hugging you tightly. As you hugged her back, you felt someone taking the hand that was now wearing Eren’s ring.

“This is one of your rings,” she noted, shooting Eren a dirty glance. He lifted his hands in surrender.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this! But I will get her a prettier one soon,” he said, winking at you. You laughed and shook your head.

“Nah, I like this one,” you replied. You shared a knowing grin and soon it was Connie’s turn to hug you.

While you were hugging your friend back, you saw in the corner of your eye Armin getting up from the table and starting to walk to both of you. Your smile immediately vanished from your face and once Eren caught it and followed your eye trail, he understood the reason why. You heard him mutter a curse before he pulled you from Connie’s embrace.

“Well, we’d love to stay, but my fiancée and I want some time alone.”

“C’mon, you haven’t told us yet how you got together!” Sasha complained.

“Next time, we promise,” you hurriedly assured her.

Eren picked his suit jacket from the table and before Armin could reach your group, you quickly walked away, exiting the hotel. Eren whistled to a taxi and you jumped inside, telling the man behind the wheel to drive. Loud laughter filled the vehicle as soon as it began moving.

“How-- how did you even have this idea?” you asked him, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Dude, Armin looked so upset, we totally stole his thunder.”

“That was the plan,” Eren shrugged, a winning smirk on his lips. “Knowing the gang, everybody’s going to be talking about us and the engagement for the rest of the party.”

“Remind me to never have you as an enemy,” you chuckled, leaning back on the car seat. Letting out a long sigh, you took off Eren’s ring and handed it to him.

He shook his head. “Nah, keep it. As a souvenir of today,” he winked.

“Thank you,” you smiled. You put the ring on your thumb this time, since it was too big for your ring finger anyway. “You didn’t have to do this at all, and yet--”

“It’s okay,” he assured you.

“No, really. It’s just-- I’ve been having a tough time since the breakup,” you admitted. “To have you doing this for me means a lot. Makes me feel someone really cares for me. I never said anything to anyone back then because Annie is also a part of the group and I thought…”

Eren leaned his head towards you.

“You thought…?”

“I thought you would pick her too. It’s stupid, I know,” you shrugged, turning your head to Eren. “But Armin had just broken up with me and a week later he was already in public with Annie. Back then, I thought everyone knew we had just broken up and if no one had said anything was because they didn’t care. So I just… stopped hanging out with all of you as much as I did before.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he muttered.

“You did?”

Eren nodded. “That’s why I asked Mikasa to pressure you into coming to the wedding. I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“You could have just asked me to hang out, you know,” you teased him. Eren chuckled, pushing some of his loose hairs behind his ear.

“I think we know by now I don’t take the conventional route.”

“Yeah, all of the guests know that too,” you quipped, making both of you laugh.

This time, when the laughter came to an end, you realized how close your faces were. Your noses were almost brushing as you both were lying your heads on the back of the car seat. You looked into Eren’s emerald eyes and noticed he wasn’t looking away from yours either. Was it the alcohol that made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink? If it was, then you could say the warmth crawling up your face was its fault too. It had to be the alcohol, or else, you would have to also ponder about the reason your heart was beating out of your chest at having your friend so close to you. He was handsome, he had always been and you knew this. But why were you losing all your composure just now?

A brief look at Eren's lips gave your thoughts away and, in less than two seconds, he was pressing his lips against yours.

For a spur-of-the-moment kiss, as you thought this one was, it was rather soft. Eren kissed you as if he thought you were the most expensive and fragile thing he had ever seen. But of course, this was just a product of the adrenaline and the fact that -as far as you knew- he hadn’t been dating anyone as well, right?

Your small theory crashed and burnt when you felt his hand softly cradling the side of your face. No. This wasn’t an adrenaline kiss, neither one that you gave without a thought. Maybe it had been unprompted and maybe you hadn’t seen it coming, but it sure as hell seemed he did. Eren’s lips gilded against your with ease, revealing a soft tenderness you didn’t know he possessed. You kissed him back, matching his rhythm as you softly pressed your hand against his chest.

Eren pulled away from you softly, and if his longing eyes were any indicator, a bit reluctantly.

“Hi,” he breathed out, making you grin widely.

“Hi,” you replied. You gently caressed his cheek with the knuckles of the hand that was previously resting on his chest. Eren took it and kissed your palm, making your heart flutter.

“Sorry to interrupt kids, but where are we heading?”

The voice of the taxi driver startled you, making you pull away from Eren. He chuckled at your reaction and then looked back at the man.

“Take us to that pizza place near the central park. Gotta have a celebratory dinner with my fiancée,” he said cheekily, taking your hand into his. You squeezed his hand back, his ring digging a little on your skin.

“So young and engaged already? Congrats!” the driver said, turning left and heading towards the direction Eren had given him.

“Thank you!” you smiled brightly at Eren while he took your joint hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

A part of you knew you weren’t taking that ring off anytime soon.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren fluff

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page150 · 3 years

Text

Not A Friend - (Sister to Oscar "Spooky" and César Díaz)

Request: "i was wondering if u could do a fic where oscar and cesar have a teen sister and she’s sexually assaulted and tells oscar??"

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Guns, Cursing

A/N: I usually don't do a author's note before the imagine, but this is a sensitive topic so if this might be triggering please click away.

Y/N - Your Name f/c - favorite color

Y/N sat quietly in her room, reading a book, illuminated by a white lamp sitting on her dresser.

Outside her brother, Oscar laughed with some men and her other brother, César had left a while ago on another adventure with his friends, leaving Y/N by herself in her room. Placing the book down, she moved the curtains away from her window. She looked at the gathering of Santos socializing in the backyard. Red solo cups in hand, dancing and eating. She remembered how Oscar had let her help decorate the backyard for the party only to be later excluded from it. Looking at him laughing with a with his arm around someone she betted that he had forgotten that she was inside.

She had gotten used to being forgotten and treated differently by people. Ever since she was born her brothers didn’t know what to do with her. Oscar had never expected to have to raise a brother by himself and especially not a sister. Even though she was only a year younger than César, Oscar's idea of keeping her safe was keeping her hidden.

She was only allowed to go straight to school then straight home, never alone either. If César or Monse weren’t going to a place neither was Y/N and that’s how it always was. She was especially not allowed to hang out with any of Oscar's friends, making life extremely lonely.

Glancing at a photo that was taped next to the window, she smiled at herself situated between Jasmine and Monse with Jamal, Ruby and César in the back. César’s friends were nice, but they were his friends not hers. He was the one invited to all their parties. He was the one they had tried to save, not her.

This left school to be the only place Y/N could socialize, but no one wanted to be friends with a girl from a gang. She was labeled dangerous before anything else, leaving her by herself. Always forgotten, and always alone.

That night she went to sleep feeling sorry for herself and woke up the same way. It continued the next few days until one day when while sitting in her algebra class, a new student was introduced. He was placed next to her and, ignoring the strange looks the class gave to him, he introduced himself.

“I’m Luke. Can I sit here?”

Y/N looked up at the blond haired boy. Her table partner had moved schools a few months ago and no one bothered to sit with her since. He looked nice, he had a nice smile and it made her want to lower her guard slightly, “Yeah, you can sit here.”

Luke sat next to her and immediately tried to start a conversation. He talked about how he moved from Florida. She noticed, as they talked more, how similar they were. They both had interesting families. He had two brothers, she had two brothers and they both lived near each other.

Y/N found herself laughing more than usual at his jokes. This led to the teacher having to stop class multiple times to scold them. Y/N never had a connection to someone like this, especially not on the first day. At lunch Luke went to sit with with her and -

“Who’s this?” César asked, suddenly sitting down at the lunch table next to his sister and wrapping an arm around her. Jamal, Ruby, and Monse also sat down. The table that previously consisted of two people quickly turned to six. Other kids nearby, eyed the two “dangerous” siblings sitting together.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the unexpected attention that was now forming. “This is Luke, he’s new.”

“Lukeee,” César trailed, “I’m Y/N’s older brother-”

“By a few months,” Y/N butted in.

“Whatever, I’m César, these are my friends Jamal, Ruby and my girl Monse.”

Monse laughed, “I’m not your girl.”

“Not yet,” César winked.

Y/N sighed and threw César’s arm off her. She turned to Elliot and apologized.

“Sorry for them.”

“No they’re cool,” Luke grinned. “Any friend of mine is my friend as well.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “We’re friends now? It’s only been a day.”

“Of course, you’re cool.”

With the compliment Y/N cheeks turned red. As childish as it was, having an established friendship with someone made her feel nice.

“This must be how César and Oscar feel all the time.” She thought.

“I don’t know if Oscar will like you having a friend that is a boy.” Ruby remarked. “No offense, Luke.”

“None taken.”

“Oscar doesn’t like anyone anyways.” Monse muttered, taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Don’t worry” Luke smiled, “I’m one of the good guys.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jamal said suspiciously. He leaned in close to Luke’s face and gave him some crazy faces.

“Okay, great talk guys,” Y/N said sarcastically, “I would love to chat with you more but lunch is about to end and I have to show Luke where his next class is. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah I have to go, but it was nice meeting you guys.” Luke stated, before he was dragged away by Y/N.

The next few weeks Y/N spent all her time with Luke. He sat next to her in the classes they shared, they talked at lunch and while walking home after school. They even stayed up at night so they could talk on the phone. She found herself smiling every time he talked to her. Every time he offered to carry her books. He was just so nice.

One Friday afternoon, Luke came running up to Y/N, putting her items in her backpack after her last class. He put his hands around her eyes, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Guess who?”

“Mrs. Kurt, I told you we can't see each other here.” Y/N whispered.

Luke removed his hands and his face went white. Y/N turned around and started crying with laughter. She had to sit down, her face turning bright red as she continued to laugh, gasping for air.

“I don’t even want to think about you dating my mom.” He trembled, before returning to his cheerful self. “Stop laughing, I have important news. There’s a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Y/N stopped laughing and thought about it before responding. “I don’t know. I don’t think Oscar would want me to. You know how he is about stuff like that.”

Luke smiled and picked her backpack off the floor. He then put out his hand and helped Y/N to her feet.

“Which is why César and his friends already said they are coming too. Oscar doesn’t have to know you're going as my date.”

“Your date?”

“If you want to be. I want you to be my date.”

Y/N smiled, a pink blush covering her cheeks. “I can be your date.”

“Great,” He took her hand and began to lead her out of the classroom. “It’s going to be amazing, don't worry.”

That night Y/N drank water out of a red solo cup, while sitting on the couch of a kid she had never met before. This time she was the one laughing and partying. Colors flashed around the room as more and more kids came into the house. The air was foggy with smoke and smelt like a mash of perfumes and colognes. Y/N nodded her head to the music enjoying the energy in the room.

To her surprise Luke pulled her up to dance with him. She giggled feeling his hands go around her waist. She put her arms around his neck just like she saw in the movies. Rap was blasting out of speakers placed on the ground. Somewhere someone joked about getting a noise compliment to which the crowd began shouting the rap lyrics louder. Taunting the idea, almost hoping for it so the party could gain extra excitement. Y/N shouted along with them in bliss. Ignoring the past fear she had felt once she noticed César had left. Ignoring the looks she had gotten when she first walked in the party. Ignoring how Luke had moved his hands past the dip in her back...

When she felt his hands squeeze her butt she whispered for him to stop which he did, but she still felt weird. A sinking feeling sat in her gut that this was a mistake. Suddenly the small action made the party feel like too much now. She could smell the stink of alcohol on Luke’s breath and weirdly on herself as well. How did she get drunk?

Y/N moved from Luke to where she had placed her cup. Now she could see scribbled on with a black sharpie, someone else’s name. She must have grabbed the wrong cup sometime during the party. Swaying slightly, she moved back toward Luke.

“I need to go home,” She hiccuped. “I drank someone's drink.”

In the darkness she didn’t see Luke’s small smile. “Wow, I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

The two exited the party and began to walk home. Y/N felt more tipsy as she walked, eventually having to lean on the blond boy. She didn’t feel really drunk, she could still tell what was happening, it was just her body felt a little out of balance. Luke seemed the same way, but before they reached Y/N house he grabbed her hips. The sudden movement left her in shock.

“You looked really nice tonight, babe.” He said, pulling her into a kiss as he ran his hands on her back, slowly moving lower onto her butt, then up to her breasts.

Immediately Y/N pushed Luke off of her, moving to wrap her arms around herself. “What the hell? I’m a Santo, pull that shit again and it's over” She yelled, backing away from Luke.

“Like you would, I’m the only one who cares enough to pay attention to you. Do you really think anyone else wants to be around you? I’ll do whatever I want. You would be an idiot to lose me.” He fumed.

Y/N froze. Luke had never acted like that before. He couldn’t truly mean what he was saying. She ran into her house and locked the door behind her. She waited a few minutes to check that he had left, which he did.

After her shower she convinced herself that Luke must have been really drunk. That’s why he acted that way, but on Monday he proved that that was not the case.

At the beginning of algebra it started off okay. Luke kept his eyes on the board and focused on his work. It was okay up to the point where he started rubbing on Y/N's leg. She told him to stop but he ignored her. First rubbing small circles on her knee. Then moving up to her thigh moving closer and closer upwards. No matter how many times she moved his hand he kept putting it back. Eventually she had to stay quiet out of fear of distracting the class, but he kept going. She begged silently for it to stop. Suddenly feeling powerless as he continued to do as he pleased for more days.

At lunch even though Luke continued to joke with César she started to go silent. It was a constant internal battle. If she pushed Luke away more, it would cause her to lose her only friend. If she didn’t she would continue to feel uncomfortable. She told herself it would stop eventually, that things would go back to normal, but they didn’t.

As more days went by Luke tried to do more things. The more he tried to do the quieter Y/N got. But luckily César began to notice. He noticed that Y/N wanted him to sit between her and Luke more. How she stopped laughing at his jokes and how Luke changed his tone when talking to her. It wasn’t always playful like it used to be.

Even though César wasn’t really close to his sister he acknowledged that they had to look out for each other. Y/N had been the one to get Oscar to let him back in the house many times. She looked out for him, and he had to look out for her.

Which is why when César and Monse accidentally walked in on Luke kissing her in an empty classroom while she tried to push him off, he freaked out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted, pulling Luke off of her and close to his face by the collar of his shirt. “I'm Lil’ Spooky I’ll have your face in the dirt if you do that shit again.”

“César, stop what are you doing here. You’re going to hurt him.” Y/N yelled. Monse gently pulled her away from Luke, but she pushed Monse back.

César punched Luke in the eye and he fell down, crumbling into a fetal position. César continued to kick him in the stomach until Y/N pulled him away.

“You’re hurting him! You can’t do this here! César stop please!”

César turned and grabbed Y/N's arm. He led her out of the classroom and out of the school with Monse trailing after them. Y/N’s items in hand.

“I can’t believe he was on you like that. Shit, Y/N. Wait, don't cry, don’t cry, it's okay.”

Y/N hadn’t realized she was crying until he said that. Tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks. She choked back sobs, trying to keep herself somewhat together.

She was thankful for César stopping it, but afraid for what would happen next. Once they reached their house César guided her up the stairs and inside where Oscar was smoking a cigarette at the dinner table. Hearing the door burst open and crying he instantly got up. He reached for his gun, but seeing that it was his siblings he stopped.

“Shit, what the hell happened César. Why is she crying?”

“Tell him,” César said softly. Monse ran in and went to Y/N’s side pulling her into a hug.

“Tell me what. Why are you crying?”

“He 's not mad at you hermana. Él va a ayudar.”

Y/N sniffled and buried herself into Monse’s shoulder. Trying to hide her embarrassment she whispered, “My friend at school was touching me in a weird way, Oscar. He wouldn’t stop. I told him to stop, though. I did. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

“We’re not mad at you and he’s not a friend anymore, Y/N. That should’ve never happened to you.” Monse murmured.

The room went silent. Monse still slowly rubbed Y/N’s back and César stood tense. Oscar looked from César to Y/N.

“César, do you think he left school yet?”

“Uh yeah, school ended right after I pulled her out.”

“Come on,” Oscar grabbed his gun and began to walk out the door, César following after. Y/N ran after Oscar begging for him to stop.

“Don’t Oscar, don’t hurt hm. He’s my only friend. He’s a kid, it was just a mistake.”

“No no!” He shouted. Oscar turned and placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulder’s. Looking into her teary eyes.

“It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault hermana. My job is to keep you safe. I've failed at a lot of things, but I refuse to fail at that again. Get in the house and rest. He just needs to be taught a lesson. Stay with Monse. Te amo como una hija bebé espeluznante.”

He left with César, leaving Y/N on the lawn. Monse guided her back into the house. She remembered what her dad did whenever she was going through a lot. She treated Y/N the same way. Reassuring her that it will be okay. That it wasn’t her fault.

César and Oscar didn’t come back until later that night.

“We got you this,” Oscar muttered, walking into the house and tossing a stuffed bear to Y/N. “We saw the idea online.” It was a f/c bear with a heart on it that said ‘Te Quiero’ with little messages César and Oscar wrote on the back. There weren't a lot, but the few ones there were were heartfelt.

“Thank you, I love it” Y/N smiled, holding the bear close. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying.

“And pizza,” César quietly cheered. On his face was a bandage, but he moved his face so Y/N couldn’t see it. “Monse do you want to spend the night?”

Monse looked at Y/N, “Yeah I already have clothes here so I’ll stay,”

She picked up a slice of pizza. “Soo, what did you guys do?”

“We took care of it,” Oscar said, sitting on the couch next to Y/N. “He won’t mess with you again. If I didn’t have a reputation I would’ve reported it.” He lowered his voice. “You can always go to us Y/N, we’re going to protect you. If that cabrón messes with you again I’m coming for him. ”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. “I just wanted a friend, how dumb is that.”

“You can always hang out with us,” Monse added, “We’re your friends. We love having you around.”

Y/N sighed, “I mean my own friend. I love you guys too, but it gets so lonely. No one at school wants to be near me. Soy un marginado.”

The room went silent again. Before Monse spoke up, “You know you’re really smart Y/N. There’s a school in BrentWood that might offer you a scholarship to go there. I know you could pass the entrance exam. ”

“I could get a job for the tuition,” César added, rising from his seat at the dinner table. “Oscar what do you think? You’ve been making more money lately. It would keep her safe. She is really smart.”

Oscar looked at the ceiling, a good sign that he was thinking about the idea. Y/N kept her mouth shut, trying not to get too excited.

“How would she get there?”

“It’s a long bus ride,” Monse remarked, “But it’s safe. Only a bunch of rich kids. Most of them will be nice to you, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re strong. Not a lot of them are like that there. No one will know who you're related to. I can get my mom to help get you in.”

César, Monse, and Y/N looked at Oscar. He took a deep breath and released it. Pulling a cigarette out his pocket, he lit it. Breathing deep he puffed out the smoke.

“I failed you today as a hermano, if I can keep you safe I will. I’ll work on getting you there.”

Y/N smiled and hugged Oscar, feeling César join as well.

“Thank you Oscar. Thank you Cesar. Thank you Monse. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah” Oscar grinned. “Get off me I’m going to bed. I think I’ll go to the beach tomorrow. Want to come?”

“Yes!”

Author's Note: My DMs are always open to anyone who needs it. I am also on twitter to anyone who wants to talk @/thepage150. Requests are open. You are important. You are valued. You are loved. Have a wonderful day ~c'k

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glassartpeasants · 3 years

Note

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears.

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’ on my clothes. Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.” You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit.

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them.

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you. He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now.

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room.

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes.

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain.

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you!

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

#tomura shigaraki #mha #bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #mha tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #never threaten bob again anon :)

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bittermuire · 3 years

Text

a nightlight and a bottle of wine

recently I’ve really loved nezriel and wanted to write a lil thing for them. this will be two parts, this is the first. modern au

---

It’s not like Nesta really knew what she was doing when she moved out. All she knows is that there is a rift between her and Feyre; a scar splitting their shared skin, a wound opening and reopening, never to heal.

And so she’s away. They’ve made their mistakes and let them be. They’ve hurt each other and even tried to love, but sisters love each other too much for love—and so she’s away. The guilt is still there, but farther from her, now. Nesta stirs it into her morning coffee and drinks the sleep, wiping it from beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth.

Every so often Cassian will text her, inviting her out to dinner or to a work party, and Nesta resists the urge to throttle him. He’s a very smart, thirty-five year old man. He should know what cutting off someone means.

(He knows, of course he knows. She guesses he just thinks it doesn’t apply to him.)

His roguish charm, his smirk, his low voice, all inviting her to one thing—sex—was beginning to exhaust her. It’s a surprising relief to be away from him. She feels like she can wear tank tops and let her hair down and go out without a bra, relieved he won’t be there to stare.

(Was she really so afraid of him?)

So Nesta lives her life and drinks her coffee, wears her tank tops and sleeps in her underwear, finally a woman in the way she’s always wanted to be; she feels discrete from the rest of the world but in a near comforting way. She has no one to disappoint, no one to miss. Her world is confined to very few people and her mind allows for one.

•

But there are things that trip her up. Remaining ties.

One such: the nightlight clipped to her bed. It’s cheap, a gaudy silver. She’s sure Azriel bought it for no more than two dollars.

But she uses it every night.

(This trips her up.)

It’s a routine she’s given to herself, written into the margins of her life; she climbs into bed, smooths the blankets over her legs, grabs her book, opens it on her lap, then twists and switches on the light. It illuminates the page with a pretty, golden sun. She uses it religiously. She thinks that if she lost it, some intrinsic part of her might be lost as well, and this frightens her.

Remaining ties should be snipped. These last threads should be spooled up, put away, hidden in the bottom drawer.

She switches it on anyway, watches the light trace the letters.

(Sometimes she thinks she is the black stamp of letters. The utter bleakness of them on the smooth page. Sometimes she thinks she is what ruins the paper. She is what ruined the paper. There’s a reason she is here and they are there.)

•

November 19th.

Happy birthday to me.

She buys a cake from the supermarket and blows out the candle.

There’s a knock at the door, late at night. Not thinking to check, she goes to open it, and there stands Azriel, still in the doorway, bottle of wine in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he says bluntly.

She lets him in for some reason she still doesn’t understand, and they end up drinking a glass together. It’s from Cassian, the wine—his favorite. Azriel tells her that Cassian didn’t think she’d take it from him.

“So he asked you,” she says.

He smiles. “Because you like me.”

1:00 AM, and they’re still drinking. They barely talk. They just sit; they sit on the kitchen stools, then the rickety chairs, then the floor, then the couch, then back to the floor. His cheeks are pink, his words slurred.

“Why’d you come?” she asks, peering down at where he lays, splayed out, on the carpet.

(He’s not the kind for favors, she knows that.)

Opening his eyes, he fixes his gaze on her. He smiles sleepily.

“Happy birthday, Nesta.”

•

She doesn’t really celebrate for the holidays. Her apartment is bare, save a pair of twinkling bells on the kitchen counter, tied with a red ribbon. Sometimes when she’s cooking she’ll give them a little ring.

The letter comes in the mail—from Feyre, clearly put there by her own hand. It’s an invitation to dinner, for the winter solstice. They’re celebrating early this year because they’re going out of town for a few weeks.

(Please don’t feel pressured to come. We were going to leave you be but Az, since he’s so considerate, thought you might appreciate an invite.)

Nesta picks up her phone and texts Feyre a simple no thanks.

•

The next morning, she opens her door to a bottle of wine. Its neck is tied with a cherry red ribbon, and there’s a note—“If you’re ever lonely, give me a call. It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t need to see who it’s from to know.

She smiles and picks it up, taking it inside.

•

It bites, the loneliness.

She wasn’t prepared for the quiet.

She traded in insults and jabs and sweaty hands at dinner tables for nothing, nothing, nothing. Silence in the shower, silence over breakfast. Over time, it’s begun to grate on her skin, sift between the strands of her hair, and she feels like she’s swimming a meter below the surface, ears clogged, vision blurred.

And slowly, she’s started to cry; she cries when the silence is too loud, when her aloneness is real, when she realizes the ugly truth of it all. She’s alone, she has nobody, she’s alone.

She picks up her phone and dials his number. “Let’s drink your wine.”

A small quiet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know, Nesta,” he laughs. “I’ll be there.”

•

They don’t drink at all, actually. She starts crying again the minute she sees his face.

“Nesta?”

•

“I’m fine, really.”

They’re walking down the aisle of the grocery store, weeks later.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m doing better, I am.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. Pick a flavor. We’ll eat it, we’ll watch a movie.” He looks her up and down, brow creased. “You need two things—no, make that three things.”

She huffs a laugh, sticking her hand into the freezer and pulling out a carton. “What?”

“Sleep, ice cream, and company.” He grins. “And now you’ve got me.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.”

•

He’s seen her beautiful; he’s seen her ugly. He’s seen her in her rattiest apron with flour crusted into her fingernails. He’s seen her laugh so hard she cries, watched her slam her head into an open cupboard door, driven her to the hospital when she sliced her hand open with a knife. They’re together a lot, she realizes. They’re not halves; they’re one and one, and one and one make two, and they stand as two together on sidewalks, squinting at menus in the windows of restaurants, and they pet dogs in the park (Nesta always asks, because Az gets shy), and they take walks at midnight, and they live their lives contentedly next to each other’s. She starts to wonder if he splits his life into two—into Cassian and Rhys and Mor and Feyre, and into her, the girl who walked away. She’d like to know why he followed her.

Sometimes she’ll catch herself staring. Even before Cassian, she’d thought Azriel was the most beautiful of the three; all graceful, sloping shadows, soft and deep eyes, curling black hair. Her heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It skips a beat when she sees him, but calms when she’s near him. It races when he leans close, falls to steadiness when he slings his arm over her shoulders. She can’t decide if she loves him like this or loves him like that. He means so much to her, means so many different things, that to give him a singular word wouldn’t fit.

She calls him Azriel, Az, Steve, Steven Shadow, Mr. Shadow, Ralph, Ron, He of the Candied Pecans, You. He responds to all of it. Recently he told her that it wasn’t because of the name, but because of the voice—(of course I don’t know who Ralph is, Nesta, but your voice, it’s your voice you use for me)—and she felt warm for reasons she couldn’t understand.

She shows up unannounced at his apartment when it’s a bad night. He does the same.

•

“Tell me the truth,” she begins, tipsy. “Did you like me before?”

“What?”

“Did you like me before?”

He frowns. “Elaborate.”

“Before you learned I’m a nice person. Back at the townhouse. When I hated everyone and was rude to you.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little. “I always liked you,” he says, and then his face settles into something like sadness. Nesta watches him closely. “I didn’t like… the way you made me feel, though. I’d see you down the hall, tired and everything, a stick of a person, and Rhys would make some joke, and I’d hate him.”

She blinks.

He looks down. “I’d never hated him before.”

There’s a tension between them. It’s common enough to be recognizable, but not enough to be familiar. She’s on edge, unsure.

The silence seeps in.

“And I hated myself, too,” he says. His eyes flick back up to hers.

Her breath catches in her chest. “I hated myself because I didn’t do anything. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, overwhelmed. Everything is building; everything is quiet. His eyes are deep and dark and swirling. He shakes his head slightly, leaning closer, slowly, slowly, and she sees it all happen—he takes her face in his hands. She can see the stray strand of hair on his forehead, the one eyelash resting by his nose, the mole right above his mouth.

“I watched you fade,” he breathes. “I watched them pull you around.”

She twines one finger into his hair, trying to bring him closer, trying to have him closer. Come here, Azriel. Come with me. Be with me, love me, because I love you.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because it’s all she can say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, and kisses her.

•

“Wait,” he says, reaching up.

“What?”

He touches the nightlight. “You kept this?”

She laughs, curled into his side, and says, “Of course I did.” He drops a kiss to her hair. “They all bought me books. You made it easy to read them.”

—-

@acosfisfeysandpropaganda I finally wrote it!!

#nezriel #nesta x azriel #nesta archeron #azriel shadowsinger

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you��re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Where Loyalties Lie

(Technoblade X reader)

Request 3: Can we get a little angsty fic or headcanon of Techno trying to get the reader to leave L’manberg?

Requested By: Anonymous

~~~

“Tubbo please take a deep breath,” You followed him around the rubble as he paced restlessly.

“I’m president of a crater (Y/n)!” The boy pulled on his ears with a loud whine, “What am I gonna do. I can’t believe Wilbur blew it up-” He felt your hands touch his own and gently pull them away from his oversensitive goat ears. “What am I gonna do? I-I’m a kid…” You frowned, moving to cup his cheek with your hand. He nuzzled into it desperately, welcoming the comforting touch of someone who he considered family.

“You’re going to get through it because you’re strong.” You told him, “and so brave little ram.” He flushed pink letting out a whine of protest especially because he was still surrounded by most of his friends.

You watch as Quackity walked over to the both of you and placed his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder squeezing it, “We’ll rebuild. We’ll be right behind you Tubbo.” He smiled at the kid and you couldn’t help but smile over at him.

“Thank you both. Truly.”

There was one thing that had you were worried you may come to regret, and that was not taking Technoblade’s hand as he fled from the country. You were close almost touching it, he looked like he wanted to beg for you too but one desperate cry from Tubbo had you pulling away. He looked heartbroken but at the same time, you saw understanding in his deep red eyes.

Family came first.

That day he pulled you close pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back for you.”

You murmured a soft I’m sorry, turning to find Tubbo to make sure he wasn’t injured or dying. The thoughts of the festival replaying in your head, you couldn’t go through that...not again especially because now Tubbo was officially on his last life. Tommy couldn’t fathom how you didn’t blame Technoblade for what happened that day, but to you, two things were clear: one was that Tubbo didn’t blame him which made it easier on your end to forgive him; two Schlatt was manipulative and overwhelming as fuck you can’t blame someone for something they were peer pressured into doing. Speaking of Tommy you ended up finding Tubbo and him in the rubble that day, the taller male was pressing cloth to Tubbo’s bleeding arm desperately, when you took over and Tommy seemed grateful.

However, you had to push your possible regrets aside and focus on the new nation you’d help build, and build it you did. You worked endlessly for months on end creating a lovely new nation for people to live in, Tubbo had dubbed it New L’manburg. You felt his pride and happiness, he just loved seeing everyone together again and happy once again. Finally, the server felt somewhat normal after all that destruction, even if there was a Techno-shaped hole in your heart. Things changed rather quickly when Tubbo was, in your eyes, manipulated to exile Tommy by Dream. You had tried to argue for the boy saying that not only was he Tubbo’s friend but just a kid. You were shut down harshly by not only Dream but Tubbo as well, the look in his eyes was filled with so much loathing and frustration. It’s the first time he ever snapped and was harsh to you, you felt your own frustration bubble up in your chest. You turned on your heel and marched back up into your house, you were not going to put up with this behavior. When you slammed the door shut, and turned around to find Technoblade standing in your living room, with your cat purring fondly on his shoulders; you almost screamed.

“Heh- why are you scared it’s just me?” The hybrid complained his nose scrunching up, “Don’t be cringe- oof-” Techno grunted as you threw your arms around his waist, the man flushed to the tips of his ears and looked away from you, Taffy hopped off his shoulders disgruntledly, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.” He pet the top of your head tenderly and you looked up at him with a smile.

“What’re you doing here Tech? If Tubbo finds out he’ll have your head.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find me then huh?” He mused lips, quirking into a smile, and you nodded in agreement. “Other than that just running some errands. I’m in retirement now you know. I have to say that ‘New L’Manburg’ is certainly a name.” He did air quotes around the name and you nudged him,

“Be nice.”

“Boo Cringe. I’m a Blood God starlight. I don’t do nice.”

“Bullshit,” You punched him in the arm, “Tea?”

“Please.” He cracked a smile as you walked over to your tea kettle heating the water and grabbing some tea bags.

“So, you came here to run some errands huh? I almost thought you missed me?” Technoblade shuffled a little behind you, how could you read him so perfectly? It was complete and utter bullshit. You heard him click his tongue distastefully behind you and you couldn’t help but smirk cheekily,

“Get off my back woman.” He stated gruffly as you laughed, “but I guess I do miss you a little bit.” You smiled fondly and softly cooed at him and he let out another scoff,

“A little bit?”

“What is this interrogation? You a cop now?” You placed his tea in front of him and he took a sip,

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to do a strip search. Drop your pants.” Technoblade choked on his drink, face turning the darkest shade of red you’ve ever seen from him. You howled with laughter sliding down in your seat beside the man.

“I changed my mind. I didn’t miss you at all, you’re a terror.”

“You love me, admit it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He murmured looking at you with a sudden softness that was out of character for him. You didn’t notice the change but it was there, oh if only you knew how much of what you said was true. He did love you. He ran his tongue across his teeth and reached out to interlock your hands within his own.

“Come live with me.”

“Tech…”

“I’m in retirement now. I’m going to get some turtles hopefully, maybe some other pets while I’m at it. There’s a lot of room...It gets lonely all alone you know. It’d be nice to have you there with me.” He watched hesitance flicker across your face again just like the day Wilbur blew up L’Manburg. Your thoughts went to Tubbo and how much he needed you, especially now that Tommy was exiled. However, you were also brought back to a few moments ago where Tubbo snapped at you for trying to help. You took a ragged breath and pushed his hand away, he frowned sadly bringing his hand back down to his lap.

“I need to be here for Tubbo. He’s a kid Tech...way over his head. Dreams sniffing around him like a dog looking for his next victim to manipulate. I can’t let that happen, not to him. I know he’s President of this nation and you hate him for that, but he’s my brother and I love him. He’s a tough kid with a lot of fire, but I can’t just leave him in the dust. I love you,” You reached up and cupped his cheek and Technoblade felt his cheeks burn at the implication, “but I can’t leave until Tubbo is safe.”

“I’ll convince you one day.” Technoblade shot back even though his heart ached, that you wouldn’t be coming home with him. But Technoblade wasn’t known for giving up. He was stubborn as hell, he’d win you over yet. You’d come home with him, he’d confess to you and he’d make you the happiest person in the world. You just...didn’t know it yet.

“I’m excited for the day you do Tech.” You snickered softly, you both were startled by harsh knocking on the door.

“That’s my cue. See you soon Starlight,” Technoblade hummed slipping right out the window, you watched him go longingly. You shuffled towards the door and opened it slowly, on the front steps stood Tubbo who was rocking nervously on his feet.

“Hi…”

“Hey LR...you okay?” Tilting your head to the side,

“Is LR supposed to stand for little ram?”

“Problem?”

“No…I suppose not.” He murmured before clearing his throat and straightening his back, “I wanted to talk with you.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow watching him nod his head sternly, you walked outside and closed the door behind you so you could lean on it. “Shoot,”

You watched as Tubbo swallowed thickly, “First off I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to snap.” He watched you nod a little urging him to continue, “however, I am the President now and you have to respect my authority.” Eyebrows furrowing together in frustration you opened your mouth to counter him but he held up his hand, “Dream has an idea of how to rule. He can steer me in a better direction-”

“Pardon me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, “A better direction? Tubbo, are you forgetting everything we all fought for, we fought him for independence. He killed us!”

“He might’ve changed!”

“He exiled Tommy!”

“He deserved it!” Tubbo shouted back as your nose scrunched up, “He’ll steer me in a direction that you never could!” He snapped before realizing what he said, he slapped his hands over his mouth eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-”

“Go home Tubbo.”

“(Y/n) please,” He reached out towards you and you held up your hand,

“Go reset the day. You need rest,” You frowned, turning back into the house “see you tomorrow.” Inside the house you shut the door on him and slid down onto the floor, you brought your hands to your mouth and swallowed thickly. A part of you wished Technoblade was still here just so he could tell you to get over yourself, he wasn’t skilled in the art of comforting others, but he could make you laugh. To keep yourself sane you reminded yourself that Tubbo was a child and needed you now more than ever, especially if he thought Dream was dishing out good advice. But you were hurt and a selfish part of you wished you could just go live in retirement with Technoblade and not worry about the new country forming, but you couldn’t ditch Tubbo.

Running a hand through your hair you sighed loudly, one might wonder what exactly could Tubbo do to make you listen to Technoblade’s offer. Honestly, you had no idea if anything would make you do that unless of course they just started executing people or something ridiculous like that.

Restless was how you’d describe the rest of your night, you tried to sleep but after a few hours of tossing and turning you gave up. You decided to make yourself a ‘healthy’ midnight snack, a small bowl of mac & cheese, you didn’t care, you were sad. You sighed softly scratching behind your cat’s ears, “It’s just you and me against the world Taffy isn’t it?” Her purrs rang in the air as she snuggled against your hand, distracting you just enough to swipe a noddle from your bowl. “You fat bitch!” You hissed as she ran off back up the stairs, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, literally nothing was going your way today. Just as you finished up your snack you heard a soft ping upon your window, turning to the sound you noticed your neighbor Phil awake in his house. He held up a hand and waved at you through it, and with a small smile, you waved back. He shuffled back into his home, I guess you both were insomniacs together, Techno knew how to pick a certain type of friend it seemed.

You walked back up to your bedroom and slid under the covers once more, maybe you were wrong and things were going to get better.

Months went by and nothing seemed to change much to your disappointment. Tubbo and you were still a little rocky, you had forgiven him for his harsh words but he always put Dream’s and even Quackity’s opinion before your own. When you came back from visiting Niki one day and saw wanted posters of Technoblade all around the country you almost had a stroke. You confronted Tubbo about it and only half answered you before running off when Quackity called him. That worried you, he normally didn’t like lying, especially not to you.

The same day you were walking into the market to get some fresh fruit when a hand shot out from the wanted poster and pulled you behind it. You were held flush against someone’s chest who chuckled gruffly, you recognized that chuckle anywhere. “Techno! What’re you doing here?” You asked looking up at him with eyes filled with concern, “don’t you know you’re a wanted man?”

“I think that just makes this all the more exciting.” Techno mused running his fingers through your hair, “Plus it’s not like anyone here can catch me.”

“Wrong I could catch you.” He dared to laugh in your face,

“Sure you could, and I’m half sheep.” Technoblade mused and he watched you huff cutely, “Don’t get all huffy at me you know I’m right.” You only waved him off, “seriously though I’m here to do some trading with Phil.”

“Oh…” You gave a nod, “Will I see you more frequently then?”

“You could see me all the time if you moved in with me.” Techno joked again and was surprised to see your face fall a little. Are you serious? Was he getting you to crack? “Starlight?”

“Ask me again in a few months and I might say yes,” You teased brushing the question off swiftly, Technoblade didn’t pry but he could tell you were almost convinced. Just what was going on in this country to make you want to leave your little brother? “Now shoo, go see Phil before he gives up on you.” You gave him a little shove and he stumbled off with a huff sticking his tongue out at you in the process.

After that encounter, you didn’t run into Technoblade for another very long stretch of time. About a month or so after that encounter, Tubbo had shown up at your doorstep a complete nervous wreck. He begged you to help him, claiming he needed diamonds for an upcoming project and wanted you to acquire them for him. “Tubbo I don’t understand why I need to go on this trip? I have diamonds I can just give you. You know I don’t care.”

“But I feel bad about it,” Tubbo argued with you “please just do this for me.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to get them this way I’ll do it. I should be back tonight is that okay? Do you need them sooner?” Tubbo looked relieved as he took your hands in his own,

“No tonight is perfect!” The boy chirped sounding more like himself than he has in months, you couldn’t help but smile. You ruffled his hair a little before kissing his forehead,

“Then tonight you shall have them, Little Ram.”

Tubbo helped you gather the materials you needed for a trip down into the mines, Tubbo even gave you some fire resistance potions. You thanked him for the potions before putting on your armor and heading down into the tunnels. As you were down in the mine the concept of time was always an illusion, so when you finally found diamonds for Tubbo and you left the cave you were surprised to see the sun was just setting. You hummed softly to yourself walking back into New L’manburg excited to show off to Tubbo you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed them for in the first place. However, when you entered town you were greeted by a gathering going on at the center. Everyone seemed to be there clad in what looked to be butcher’s outfits, your vibe was immediately thrown off eyebrows furrowing in concern. Quackity was giving some sort of speech and that finally drew your eyes towards the podium, locked inside a cage was a fuming Technoblade. You rushed towards the group, pushing past Ghostbur and a blue sheep, and grabbed tightly onto Tubbo’s arm.

“Tubbo what the fuck is happening?” He tensed turning towards your face. It was no secret that you and Techno were friends, this wasn’t good at all.

“(Y/n)! You’re back early!” He spoke nervously rubbing his hands together as Quackity turned towards you,

“Welcome back!” Quackity hopped off the podium with a smirk, “Fundy grab them.”

“Quackity hey wait a minute-” Tubbo started as Fundy roughly grabbed onto your arms pinning you in place,

“Ow hey! Watch it! Let go of me!”

“Get your hands off them!” Technoblade snarled nostrils flaring grabbing the bars of the cage tightly.

“Quackity you said we’d leave them out of this!” Tubbo argued and your jaw dropped staring at Tubbo, “You promised!”

He waved Tubbo off with a scoff, “they’re just as bad as Phil, Tubbo. She needs to be punished. We can't play favorites when trying to run a country. We’ll execute Techno then deal with the other traitors.”

“Execute?” You choked, “you can’t be serious! Tubbo you cannot be serious, since when are you okay with public executions?” He refused to look at you, his hair covering his eyes, he only nodded his head in Quackity’s direction.

“Do it.”

“Tubbo!” You shrieked watching Quackity grin maliciously, moving over to pull the lever that would allow the anvil to fall and crush the man below it.

What happened next was a cluster fuck, someone began trying to set off TNT, and Quackity pulled the lever. It fell rapidly towards Techno and he pulled something out of his pocket, in a flash of bright colors and bursts of light Technoblade was ripped apart and pulled back together again. He was alive, Technoblade really doesn’t ever die. He hopped on top of the anvil and jumped the bars of the cage, Fundy had long since lost his grip on you, he noticed Dream ushering him inside a cavern and he paused a moment. The hybrid turned towards you holding out his hand one final time, the world seemed to stop a moment and it was just you and him. His face held a desperate look in it, almost pleading you to take his hand within your own. You flashed back to the day Wilbur blew the country up, Tubbo called your name you glanced over your shoulder once towards Little Ram. You reached into your bag and dropped the diamonds you found for him on the ground, you grabbed Technoblade’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Technoblade smiled and yanked you forward, leaving a heartbroken Tubbo in your wake.

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