#I hope I can somehow turn the development of this game into a school assignment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viastro · 3 years

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pacman | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: being best friends, you and jeonghan know all there is to the disastrous effects of developing feelings for each other. that’s why you both make a sleep-deprived promise at 5 am to never fall in love with the other. however, jeonghan begins to question everything when he tasks himself with making you and the new transfer become a couple.

ミ★ genre: best friends / to strangers / to lovers!au, angst, fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: none !

ミ★ word count: 7,559

ミ★ pairings: jeonghan x gender neutral reader / jun x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! here’s my jeonghan oneshot that was inspired by jaehyun’s upcoming kdrama ! it took me a few days to finish this, so it’s pretty long and i would like to apologize in advance AJSKBGKB i also recommend listening to stay here by gaho on repeat for like top tier reading experience HAHAHA i hope you guys enjoy this oneshot, and remember to give jeonghan lots of love <3

Your eyes are closed as your head rests on the table, waiting for the lecture to begin. Your airpods are in your ears, playing a soft instrumental that has you on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

Until Jeonghan sits beside you.

“I thought you slept early last night?” Instead of hearing the piano, you hear your best friend’s voice fill your ears as you open up one eye. The newly dyed redhead is staring at you with an amused expression on his face, causing you to squint at him.

“Yeah, 2 am this time. Personal best for the year so far.” You tell Jeonghan, sitting up from the desk and stretching your arms over your head. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, knowing that is a lot earlier than the usual 6 am bedtime routine you’ve got going on. He sits down in the seat beside you, pulling out his things from his bag.

Yoon Jeonghan, your best friend of almost eight years now. The two of you met in middle school, having been paired up in science class to dissect a frog. Jeonghan was close to tears the whole time while you were practically gagging over the smell through your mask.

Someway, somehow, the two of you ended up sticking together after that unfortunate occurrence. No words were exchanged either, you both kind of just started sitting beside each other during lunch and waiting for each other at your assigned lockers.

In high school it got annoying, as Jeonghan suddenly started to become... pretty. He grew taller, cut his hair short, and had a smirk that made anyone and anything swoon. Well, everyone except you. It got worse when you both entered university, as Jeonghan is continuing to become prettier by the minute.

You can’t count on your hand how many times someone was jealous of how close the two of you were.

However, the two of you made a vow after watching one too many kdramas with the trope of best friends to strangers due to one of them falling in love. It might be a bit drastic, and it was in the wee hours of the morning when the two of you made this oath so who knows if Jeonghan remembers. You don’t even remember most of what you both agreed upon other than the fact that the two of you can’t fall in love.

“Hannie, our friendship is too precious to end like theirs did!” You say through your tears, with Jeonghan pulling out a bunch of tissues to throw at your face. He nods his head in agreement, running a hand through his black hair as he fights back his own tears, only to pause and turn towards you.

“You think I’d like you?” Jeonghan asks with a look of disgust on his face, making you halt your movements, looking at him with a glare. “Hey!”

“I’m teasing you.” Jeonghan says with a laugh, taking one of the tissues he threw at your face and wiping the snot that’s slipped past your nose from crying. You quietly let him, too tired and sad to tell him how gross that is.

“We gotta stop binging kdramas until 5 in the morning.” Your best friend tells you, and you nod your head silently as you stare into his pretty eyes. He lets out a yawn once he’s done wiping away your tears, turning off your TV and placing the remote on the table.

“Come on, lay down, yn.” You don’t move from your position on the couch, still huddled into the corner as you think of what could happen if one of you ever developed feelings for each other.

A small smile forms on Jeonghan’s face at how deep in thought you are, reaching out and patting the top of your head. You look up at Jeonghan, and he tilts his head at you.

“What’s up? I’m trying to tuck you in and you’re staring off as if you’re going through an existential crisis.” You purse your lips at his observation, wondering if you are having an existential crisis. Jeonghan sits back down beside you, and he rests his head on his hand as he turns his body towards you.

“Let’s make a vow.” You say after a moment of silence passes between the two of you. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, “What kind of vow?”

You turn your body towards his, fixing the blankets on your lap before finally looking into his eyes again. You find Jeonghan’s eyes to be his prettiest feature, as you can always see what he’s feeling through his gaze. It’s how you’re able to tell when he’s lying.

“A vow for us to never fall in love with each other.” You state, and you watch as mirth pools Jeonghan’s eyes while his lips curve up into an amused smile. “I don’t think we can make a vow on something that’s out of our control.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Jeonghan watches as your eyes brighten when another idea comes to mind. He’s a bit taken aback when you suddenly reach out and grasp his hand, holding it tightly between your warm ones.

“Then we make a promise.”

“That’s the same thing as a vow-”

“No, shut up. Let me explain.” You say, and Jeonghan chuckles. He motions with his hand for you to go on, and you let out a breath.

“If one of us catches feelings, then we end our friendship.” Jeonghan stares at you with a serious expression on his face, and you find that you’re afraid at how fast the amusement left his eyes. Jeonghan leans in closer towards you, “You’d want to end our friendship just like that?”

“Nono! I mean like, for a certain amount of time. Essentially we’d just ghost each other until our feelings go away, and the other can’t intervene.” You explain, slightly shoving Jeonghan away, but you see that he still looks a bit put off by your idea.

“I’d feel like ass if you just left without a word, though.” Jeonghan tells you, and you slowly nod your head, understanding where he’s coming from. You let out another sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Pacman.” You peek at Jeonghan, wondering why he mentioned your guys’ favorite game when you were children. He gives you a tired smile, “It’ll be our code word. Instead of leaving without a trace for a couple months, or confessing our feelings and then leaving, we can just say Pacman. It’s not directly saying I love you, and who knows if either of us will remember the word. It’s the perfect thing to say before disappearing for a bit.”

You slowly nod your head, finding that it seems like the best option thus far. And so, out of your 5 am fatigue, you hold out your pinky towards your best friend.

“Pinky promise that you won’t fall in love with me.” You mutter sleepily, and Jeonghan chuckles, reaching out and intertwining his pinky with yours.

“I pinky promise that I won’t fall in love with you.” Jeonghan responds softly, pressing his thumb against yours, sealing the promise.

And now here you both are, still going strong after that sleep-deprived promise you made when you two were barely 16 years old.

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand while Jeonghan scrolls through his phone to try and show you the meme he saw earlier. Only for you to pause your movements when someone enters the auditorium.

“Look, I found it.” Jeonghan says happily, about to hold out his phone towards you, only to pause, seeing that you’re distracted. He turns his head in the direction of your awed state, only to find a handsome guy standing at the doorway, looking for a seat.

Jeonghan slowly turns back towards you, finding you still staring at the man. He’s never seen this expression on your face before when you looked at someone else, but he knows this look. And so, he lets out a grin, before standing up from his seat and walking down the steps.

Your eyes widen when you suddenly see Jeonghan’s red hair flash before your eyes, and you internally scream when you watch him walk up and bow to the incredibly pretty man.

“Hi! I’m Yoon Jeonghan.” This seems to startle the guy, but his eyes almost immediately turn up into an eye smile as he bows back in Jeonghan’s direction.

“Hi, I’m Wen Junhui.” Jeonghan grins back, before motioning over towards where you and him are seated.

“Oh God.” You mutter to yourself when the pretty man looks up at you, causing you to look down at your phone and check to see if you look at least half decent. You internally scream when you look back up to see him and Jeonghan walking up the steps, and you would’ve flipped Jeonghan off if it weren’t for the pretty guy looking at you.

“Yn! This is Wen Junhui, he’s a transfer.” Jun smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back at him, warmth flooding your chest at the precious sight. “Hi yn, you can call me Jun.”

You nod your head, “Hi Jun, let Jeonghan and I know if you ever need any help!”

He sits down in the seat besides Jeonghan and bends down to take out the things from his bag, giving you enough time to quickly smack the back of Jeonghan’s neck. He squeaks, turning and shooting you a glare, only to stop and give Jun a reassuring smile when the pretty transfer looks at him in concern.

“Are you okay?”

Jeonghan nods his head, giving Jun a thumbs up. He glances towards you once more when Jun goes back to preparing his seat, only to find the slight sparkle to your eye as you stare at the transfer student. Jeonghan slowly looks away, knowing exactly what that sparkle will signify in the future.

Jeonghan walks towards the square with both airpods in, hands holding heat packs in the pockets of his coat to keep warm. He notices you sitting on the bench, bundled up in your large jacket as you wait for him, causing a small smile to form on Jeonghan’s face.

He’s about to call out your name, only to halt his movements when he sees Junhui heading the opposite way. Jeonghan looks between the two of you, knowing that you have a raging crush on the pretty man but won’t initiate anything, and that Junhui might possibly be interested in you as well.

It’s been a month since Jun transferred to Seoul National University, and Jeonghan’s slowly been trying to push the two of you together. However, he does it so that it’s not too obvious for the sake of him not getting yelled at by you.

When you yell, you yell for a long time.

And so, being the kind friend that Jeonghan is, he quickly walks unnoticed past you, and places both hands on Jun’s shoulders without a noise of greeting. This promptly startles the transfer student, considering the brief look of fear on Jun’s face, only for it to morph into a smile when he looks into Jeonghan’s eyes.

“Jeonghan!”

“Jun! Are you done with your lectures today?” Jun nods his head in response, and Jeonghan grins at his answer. He turns and points towards you, making Jun peek over his shoulder to see you practically shaped like an onigiri, with your shoulders to your chest and your large winter jacket wrapped around you. “Yn and I were just about to go and get lunch, wanna join?”

Jeonghan notices Jun’s eyes become a bit brighter when he looks at you, before he turns back to look at him and runs a hand through his hair. “That sounds great! I’m starving.”

Jeonghan nods his head, before turning towards you and calling out your name. You glance up at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, looking over to find him and Jun standing a few feet away from you with small smiles on their faces. You shoot your best friend a look, and his smile simply grows wider as you stand up from the bench and walk over to the two.

“Jun! Are you joining us for lunch today?” You ask when you make it over to them, secretly slapping Jeonghan’s side for being a goddamn whore. Jun smiles and nods his head while Jeonghan inconspicuously rubs his waist to ease the sting from your smack.

“Where do you guys wanna eat?” Jun asks as the three of you begin walking out of the square. You think to yourself for a moment while Jeonghan stays quiet, letting you decide on where the gang will have lunch. You let out a grin when you finally think of where to eat, glancing at the two before saying, “Thai food!”

Jeonghan and Jun nod their heads in agreement, and you celebrate quietly between the two. You squeeze the heat packs in your pockets when Jun turns and looks at you, causing you to look back at him.

“What do you usually order at Thai restaurants?” You purse your lips at Jun’s question, fighting back the warmth from rushing to your face at the way he’s staring at you with so much interest. “It depends on my mood, to be honest.”

“Wanna order for me when we get there then? I’m not sure what to eat.”

“Horrible idea. What if I choose something you don’t like?”

“Then I’ll keep eating it, yn.”

“Jun!”

Jeonghan watches as you and Jun unconsciously walk faster until the two of you are now ahead of him. You are in your own little world as you bicker, but Jeonghan knows there’s no malice in your guys’ argument with the way you’re both smiling brightly at each other.

You pause when you don’t feel that familiar presence beside you, and you turn your head to find Jeonghan standing a bit far behind you and Jun. You squint at your best friend, before pulling your hand out of your pocket and waving him over.

“Hannie! What are you waiting for? Come here!”

Jeonghan tightly squeezes the heat pack in his pockets, before nodding his head and walking a bit faster to catch up to you guys. It’s only when he’s standing right beside you that the three of you begin heading towards the Thai restaurant again.

As the frigid temperatures hit him, Jeonghan’s left wondering why the heat packs no longer offer him any warmth as he watches you laugh with Jun.

Jeonghan sits beside you on your couch, invested in the new episode of the kdrama the two of you have been keeping up with. He turns his head when your phone lights up, and his eyes land on the contact name.

jun <3

“You got a text from Junnie.” Jeonghan says, taking a piece of popcorn and placing it into his mouth. You look away from the TV, picking up your phone and reading the message. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeonghan watches the dopey smile form on your face as your thumbs type out a text to your crush.

Suddenly the popcorn feels a bit too dry to swallow as Jeonghan reaches over to take a sip of water. It only goes down smoothly when you place your phone back down on the couch and adjust the blankets over you and Jeonghan.

“I love when the main actress stands up for herself.” You mutter, taking a few pieces of popcorn and tossing them into your mouth. Jeonghan nods his head in agreement, watching as the female lead starts cursing back at the man.

“There’s just something so satisfying about women proving that they don’t need a man to protect them. They need to show this more in kdramas, break the stereotype, ya know?” Jeonghan adds, and you smile softly, pride swelling in your heart at the simple sentence. He turns his head and catches sight of your soft smile, and he feels the undeniable feeling of warmth from the beauty of it.

A sudden bright light makes him glance down at the blankets, finding that your phone has lit up again. You notice as well, picking up the cool metal and reading the new text from Jun. Jeonghan watches as your mouth drops open and how you immediately stand up from the couch.

“Did something happen?” Jeonghan asks, only for your phone to be shoved directly into his face. The redhead curses quietly, muttering about how you need to update your phone to be able to turn on dark mode, before reading the message on the screen.

“He asked me on a date! Me! Wait, is it a date? What should I say?! What if he didn’t mean to send me that text?? Oh my God, I’m so nervous I could actually pee my pants.” You ramble, and Jeonghan’s eyes slowly trail up to your face, watching as you mumble to yourself and begin to pace around the small living room. He bites the inside of his cheek, before grabbing your phone out of your hands and typing out a message. Your eyes widen when you watch your best friend’s thumbs move swiftly across your screen.

“Wait, Yoon Jeonghan!”

“There.” Jeonghan states, handing you back your phone. You stare at the screen in silence.

jun <3: i was wondering if you wanted to go to the aquarium together on saturday? I remembered when you told me how you’ve never been, and the aquarium is having a christmas special even tho it’s november :3

It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna go by the way

you: that sounds great ! i can’t wait <3

jun <3: yay! I’ll pick you up at around 4 on saturday ~

Jeonghan watches as your eyes slowly trail up towards his face, and he wonders whether you’re gonna choke him or scream at him. Or both.

Jeonghan thinks it’s both.

It comes to his surprise when you instead wrap your arms around his frame, squeezing him tightly. Jeonghan slowly reciprocates the hug, cradling your head in his hand like he always does.

“Thank you, Hannie.” You mumble, and Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek at the softness to your voice. He lets out a smile, nodding his head, “Of course, yn. Anything for you.”

“Did you know that you smell good?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at the random question, and the rumble of his chest from laughter makes you giggle in response, squeezing him tighter.

“Really? What do I smell like?”

You purse your lips in thought, before letting out a deep sigh. You close your eyes as you quietly say, “You smell delicate, it reminds me of Spring.”

Jeonghan’s heart thumps against his chest as he pats your head, “How can I smell like a season?”

“I don’t know. You just do.”

You pull away from the hug to flash Jeonghan a bright smile, and you watch as his features brighten at the sight. You rub the back of your neck, about to sit back down to finish the drama, only to pause when you realize something.

“Jeonghan!”

“Yn!”

“I have to choose an outfit for Saturday! Oh my GOD!” You sprint out of the living room and to your bedroom, while Jeonghan remains in the living room. He listens to the sound of your screeches, and the chaotic noises of clothes being pulled out of your closet.

“Hannie, come help! I’m not that stylish!”

Jeonghan bites his bottom lip, turning to look at the long forgotten drama. He lets out a sigh, bending down and picking up the remote, turning off the TV. The screen turns black, leaving him to stare at his reflection in the monitor.

It’s as if Jeonghan is having a staring contest with himself as he stares at the TV monitor, thinking of the answer to a question that he’s not willing to ever admit. He only looks away when he hears the call of his name, pursing his lips at the thoughts he was thinking.

Jeonghan pushes everything in his brain away, letting out a small smile when you walk out of your room with your head stuck in a hanger. You scratch the top of your head, confused as to how you even managed to fit your head through the small space.

“Please help.” You say, and Jeonghan chuckles, nodding his head and walking over towards your room.

“Should I ask how you even managed to get your head through the hanger?”

“No.”

“Good, because I didn’t plan out how I’d react if you told me about it.”

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair as he looks out the window of his apartment, seeing the grand view of the city of Seoul at night. He tilts his head at the sight of a few fireworks shooting up into the sky, even though there’s about ten minutes left until it’s the new year.

“Hannie! My parents want to see your red hair.” He turns his head at the call of his name, finding you sitting at his kitchen table on FaceTime with your family. He grins and walks over to you, resting his hand on the back of your chair as he puts himself in the frame.

“Hi auntie and uncle! Happy New Year!” Jeonghan greets with a smile, and the two of you let out a laugh at your mom’s reaction to his bright hair color. He runs a hand through his hair, sending your mom a thumbs up in the camera. “Do you like my hair?

“I’m honestly just surprised that you pull it off so well.” Your mom responds, and you chuckle. Your dad nods in agreement, giving Jeonghan a thumbs up with a proud smile on his face. Grinning, you reach out and ruffle Jeonghan’s hair.

“Of course Hannie can pull it off! He’s one of the prettiest guys ever, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were able to rock green hair.” Your mom and dad laugh, while Jeonghan just stares at you for a moment, feeling slightly empty when you pull your hand away. Your mom lets out a mischievous smile, and you raise an eyebrow at it. “What are you planning, mom?”

“Since you think Jeonghan is so pretty, why aren’t you dating him yet?” Warmth immediately floods your face, and you let out a whine, causing your mom and dad to holler over in laughter. You turn to Jeonghan to apologize, and he just gives you a small smile, nodding his head in understanding. When you glance back at your phone to scold your parents, Jeonghan’s smile turns bitter, and he looks away from your screen to hide it.

You and Jun have been dating for a month now.

“I’ll talk to you guys later! Jeonghan and I have to take our annual New Year’s photo.” You say, waving at your parents with a bright smile on your face.

“Bye Jeonghan!” Jeonghan glances back over at your phone, finding your parents waving at him with happy expressions on their faces. He forces out a smile, waving back at them with the same energy they’re giving him. “Yn and I will try to visit soon!”

“Yeah you better!” You let out a laugh at your dad’s comment, waving at them one last time before ending the call. You lean back into the chair, closing your eyes to try and muster up some energy.

“Your parents’ love suck all the life out of you?” Jeonghan asks with an amused expression on his face, and you wave him away with your hand, eyes still closed as you do so. He chuckles, reaching out and pinching your cheek before walking back over to the couch.

“Are we gonna take a picture or what?” You open your eyes to see Jeonghan already preparing the polaroid camera, and you stand up and walk over to him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, making Jeonghan stiffen slightly, and he hopes you didn’t notice. However, you’re observant.

“Why’d you freeze? Oh! Is your shoulder bothering you again?” You ask in concern, immediately stepping back and assessing Jeonghan’s shoulder. He watches as you begin to ramble about how he should go to the doctor about his shoulder pain as you poke and prod at him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he moves his shoulder out of your reach, “It’s fine, I just slept wrong last night.” He lies through his teeth, and you stare into Jeonghan’s eyes as your hands slowly fall to your sides.

His deep brown eyes bore into yours, seeing a reflection of his own as he does so. After a moment of searching, you look away with a sigh.

Jeonghan’s eyes are your favorite feature of his, as his true emotions always show through them. They’re his most honest feature, you’d say.

so why can’t I tell if he’s lying right now?

You shake your head, before looking back at Jeonghan with a smile. You nod your head, reaching out and softly patting his shoulder as a means to not accidentally hurt him. “Let’s take the photo, I need a post for Instagram.”

Jeonghan scoffs, holding up the polaroid camera, “You only want to take photos with me so that you get more likes on Instagram.”

You smile, peace sign up towards your eye as you nod your head, “Of course. If I have a pretty boy beside me in my photos, then everyone will like them!”

Jeonghan smiles, winking into the polaroid camera as the flash goes off. The film photo immediately pops out, and you take the small photo and wave it around. Jeonghan purses his lips, before holding up the camera again.

“Let’s take one more.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow, surprised that he wants to take another photo with you. You place the polaroid down onto the coffee table before posing without question, as you’re afraid he will immediately take back the request.

“1, 2, 3-” Your hand makes your way to Jeonghan’s face, squishing his cheeks when the flash goes off. Jeonghan turns to face you, finding you giggling happily as you take the developing polaroid, flapping it around a bit before placing it onto the coffee table.

“I wanted to look handsome in that one.” Jeonghan whines, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re always handsome, be quiet.” You respond, and Jeonghan opens his mouth to argue, only to stop when you glance at the time.

“15 SECONDS!” You screech, grabbing the noise maker and confetti, handing one to Jeonghan in the process. You jump up and down as the two of you begin to count down.

“10!”

“9!”

“8!”

“7!” Jeonghan glances at you, feeling as if time is starting to slow down as you excitedly dance while counting down.

“6!”

“5!”

“4!” You laugh happily, doing a small dance as you prepare the confetti in your hand.

“3!”

“2!” Jeonghan feels his heart sink in his chest when you turn to face him with a bright smile, seeing all the stars in your eyes as you stare at him.

“1!”

“Happy New Year, Hannie!” You squeal, throwing the confetti up as high as you can into the air. Jeonghan swallows, noticing how dry his throat has become as he takes in the sight before him. Time comes to a slow as the fireworks explode in the air behind you through the window, while the confetti sparkles fall around the two of you. All the background noise drowns out, all of his senses honing in on you and you only. You look nothing short of ethereal in this moment.

The realization of what he’s been denying for the last three months comes to the surface as he stares at you, and he wishes for nothing more than for it to not be true. That it’s just a fluke.

However, when you turn back towards him and wrap your arms around his frame, greeting him Happy New Year once more, Jeonghan knows it’s the truth.

“Happy New Year, Yoon Jeonghan.” You say softly with a grin, and Jeonghan slowly wraps his arms around you, biting the inside of his cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Happy New Year, yn yln.” Jeonghan mutters, and you pull away to pull out your phone from your pocket. You wave it around Jeonghan’s face with a mischievous smile, “I’m gonna go greet Jun a happy new year, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Jeonghan squeezes his fist at his side, nodding his head as he gives you a smile. “Tell the handsome man I said Happy New Year.”

You give the redhead a thumbs up, before dialing Jun’s number and heading towards the bathroom. Once the door closes behind you, Jeonghan reaches up and clutches his chest, biting his bottom lip harshly as he looks down at the floor. He notices the now developed polaroids, and lifts up the one where you're squishing his face.

You’re staring at Jeonghan with stars in your eyes as you smile widely, hand squishing his cheeks. Jeonghan purses his lips, before pulling out his wallet from the back of his jeans, placing the polaroid into the slot before his driver’s license.

The photo reflects back at him underneath the light from the fireworks behind him, and Jeonghan lets out a breath. Running a hand through his hair, he closes his wallet and places it back into his pocket. Just in time too, as he looks up when he hears your bathroom door open, noticing the happy smile on your face.

“Ready to make midnight snacks to celebrate the new year?” You ask with a wink, and Jeonghan throws on his best fake smile, nodding his head.

“Of course I do, don’t ask me no stupid fucking questions.” Jeonghan teases, and you let out a laugh at the sentence, sending the redhead’s heart into a frenzy.

“Let’s go make food then.” You say, turning and heading towards the kitchen. Jeonghan slowly walks after you, a sad smile on his face as he watches you dance as you walk.

Just one more day. Jeonghan thinks to himself, before speeding up his pace and wrapping his arm around you. You turn to look at your best friend, and he smiles at you.

“Let’s make rice krispy treats.” Jeonghan suggests, only to let out a laugh at how your face brightens just at the mention of the delicious dessert, and you nod your head excitedly. You lead him to his own pantry, and begin explaining who’s gonna do what as you take out all the ingredients. All while Jeonghan watches fondly, knowing that he needs to ingrain this moment in his brain.

Just one more day with yn.

Jeonghan shuffles in front of your door, dreading what’s going to happen as soon as he knocks on the surface. He lets out a sigh, resting his head on the wall for a moment, questioning everything.

What if I just pretended?

I could just walk in and we could hangout like we usually do, like nothing has changed at all.

No.

Jeonghan lifts up his head, raising his fist and knocking on your door without a second thought. He bites the inside of his cheek when he hears you say, “Coming!”

Your front door opens after a moment, and his eyes trail over your outfit. An oversized vest over a white dress shirt paired with straight leg pants and sneakers to match. Jeonghan’s eyes slowly go back towards your face, just to find you staring at him with surprise painted over your features.

“Hannie! I wasn’t expecting you, what’s up?” You ask, and Jeonghan stays quiet for a moment. He gestures to you, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Are you going somewhere?” Jeonghan asks, and you nod your head. Letting out a smile, you show off your outfit and do a timid spin for emphasis on the oversized vest. “I have a date with Jun today, you like the fit?”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond, instead squeezing his fist in his pocket. He looks down the hallway, making you look in the same direction as well. You find Jun walking towards your apartment, and you let out a smile.

“Speak of the Devil. Did you need something from my apartment? You can just lock up when you’re done.” You tell Jeonghan as you turn back towards him, and you find the rest of the words die in your throat at the sadness in his eyes. You reach out to grasp his arm, and he takes a step back.

“Hannie, what’s wrong-”

“Jun is lucky to have you.” Jeonghan cuts you off, and you stare at him as he struggles to utter the next word. He turns back to look at Jun, seeing that he’s almost to your door, having not noticed Jeonghan yet.

“Jeonghan?” You ask, and you watch as the pretty man turns back to look at you.

“Pacman.” Jeonghan breathes out, and you feel your heart stop, unsure of why.

He turns around and walks away without another word, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You step out to ask him what he means, only for Jeonghan to stop and turn around himself. He gives you a bittersweet smile, waving his hand at you.

“You look beautiful, yn. Have fun on your date.” And with that, Jeonghan turns around and walks away, sucking in a deep breath to try and hold back the tears that threaten to escape. Leaving you alone by your doorway, confused.

“Was that Jeonghan?” You turn your head at the sound of Jun’s voice, and he gives you a soft smile. You nod your head slowly, turning to look back in the direction that he left in. “Yeah, he seems sad though.”

“Wanna go and check on him?” Jun asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering the tickets Jun bought in advance for the two of you to go to this garden. Regretfully, you shake your head and give Jun a warm smile. “It’s okay, I’ll check on him after our date.”

You quickly grab your phone and bag, locking the door to your apartment and turning to Jun with a grin. He extends his hand towards you, and you intertwine your fingers with his. The two of you walk towards the elevators, but you’re left in confusion as to what Jeonghan meant, and why he was so sad.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and months eventually turned into a year.

You and Jeonghan haven’t spoken since the day he stopped by your apartment and said that cursed word.

You tried to reach out once you realized what he meant, even stopping by his apartment multiple times to just get him to say something, anything. You were quite literally talking to a door, as there was never a response. There were times that you fell asleep in front of his apartment on the floor, and would wake up in Jun’s arms as he carried you back to your own place.

Many tears were shed, hearts were broken on both sides as you lost not only Jeonghan, but Jun as the two of you broke up four months after Jeonghan left.

“I’ll always love you, but I know that your heart belongs to someone else.” Jun tells you softly, and you bite the inside of your cheek. He gives you a small smile, grasping your face, making you look down at the floor as he presses one last kiss to your forehead.

Jun pulls away, and pats the top of your head. “Don’t be a stranger, yn. I love you.”

You wanted nothing more than for Jeonghan to be there with you at that moment, to help you take the baby steps in healing, but you couldn’t get through to him no matter how much you tried.

It was what you two promised to do, anyways.

He even managed to avoid you on campus successfully, you couldn’t be surprised though. The university is huge, you wouldn’t have been able to find him if you tried, which you did. He stopped frequenting all the places the two of you used to go to, it was as if he disappeared.

And the hole in your heart grew and grew the longer Jeonghan was gone.

Now here you are, a year later, sitting on a park bench as you let the music flow through your airpods. The weather is nice, a contrast to the rain that’s been pelting the city of Seoul for the last few days. The sky is blue, and there’s a slight wind to cool you down from the warmth of the sun. You tilt your head back, letting out a sigh as you remember the pile of assignments sitting on your desk back at home.

And so, placing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, you get up off the bench and begin to walk down the path in the direction of your apartment. Your eyes stay on the ground the whole time, just trying to focus on the soothing piano as you ignore the other people walking by you.

You only look up when you get to the crosswalk, seeing a crowd of people across the street from you. Your eyes trail along the numerous faces you see, and you’re about to look back down when you lock eyes with a familiar pair.

“Jeonghan.” You breathe out as he stares at you with the same amount of shock written across his face. His red hair is now dyed black, emphasizing his sharp features. His eyes still hold all the warmth that you remember as he stares directly back at you, making the pain in your chest more evident at how much you miss him. You bite the inside of your cheek harshly at how much prettier he’s become, wondering how he’s capable of doing so as time passes.

The crosswalk signal turns green, but you remain where you are for a moment, as does Jeonghan. The reminder of the promise the two of you made flooding through your mind.

“Pacman.” You peek at Jeonghan, wondering why he mentioned your guys’ favorite game. He gives you a tired smile, “It’ll be our code word. Instead of leaving without a trace for a couple months, or confessing our feelings and then leaving, we can just say Pacman. It’s not directly saying I love you, and who knows if either of us will remember the word. It’s the perfect thing to say before disappearing for a bit.”

Jeonghan begins to cross the street first, and you look down at the road as you step off the sidewalk, melting in with the crowd as you walk in Jeonghan’s direction. Your heart is breaking within your chest as you do so, knowing that you have to keep the promise you made with Jeonghan.

The two of you pinky swore, after all.

Tightly, you squeeze your fists at your side as the piano instrumental reaches its climax in your ears. Numerous questions flood your brain as you reach the middle of the street.

Is this it?

Are we never going to be best friends again?

Has he already passed me?

Does…

Does he still love me?

All thoughts rush out your brain when a hand grabs your wrist unexpectedly, the sudden jerk of your arm making your earbud fall out of your ear and onto the road, the soft key sounds of the piano disappearing with the wind. You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat when you’re pulled into a tight embrace. It’s only when the familiar scent of Spring fills your senses, that you immediately wrap your arms around Jeonghan’s frame, tears filling your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Hi, yn.” Jeonghan mutters into your ear, tears falling from his own eyes as he holds you tightly, never wanting to let you go. You let out a sob at the sound of his voice, closing your eyes as you clutch onto him just as tight, scared that he’ll disappear without a trace again if you let go.

And so, through your tears, you whisper, “Hi, Jeonghan.”

“Yn! It’s only a few more minutes until midnight!”

“Coming!” You shout back, checking over your reflection once more. You step out of the restroom once you’re sure that you look decent, and walk over to your living room. You let out a smile once you lay eyes on Jeonghan laying upside down on your couch, scrolling through his phone.

“What are you doing, Hannie?” You ask, and the black haired beauty peeks at you past his phone, flashing you a smile.

“It’s more comfortable this way, wanna try?” You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead as you grab the polaroid camera. He lets out a whine, fixing his position so that he’s now sitting properly and not upside down.

“Why’d you flick me?”

“Cause you’re cheeky.” You answer, preparing the polaroid film to take the annual New Year’s Eve photo. Jeonghan grins, quickly fixing his hair to make sure it looks presentable. “Do I look okay?”

You quickly turn towards him, taking in his features. His soft eyes gaze into yours as you stare at his pretty nose and high cheekbones. You reach out and pinch his cheek with a smile, “You look pretty, Hannie. You always do. Now let’s take this photo.”

Jeonghan smiles happily at your compliment, before taking the polaroid camera from you and holding it out as you have trouble doing so. You let out a bright smile at the camera, Jeonghan doing the same as he takes the photo. The flash goes off, and you’re quick to take the film out and wave it around.

“Another one.” You command as you take the polaroid camera out of Jeonghan’s hands, and he chuckles, nodding his head. You hold the camera out and send a wink towards the camera, Jeonghan doing the same pose.

“Okay. 1, 2, 3-” Jeonghan quickly changes his pose last minute, reaching out with his hand and squeezing your cheeks with a laugh. The flash goes off, and you let out a whine, turning back towards the pretty man to see him still giggling as he takes the polaroid out and waves it around.

“Are you happy now that you’ve gotten your revenge?” You ask, and he nods his head with a grin. “Very happy, actually.”

You’re about to respond, only to pause when you see that there’s only 30 seconds left until the clock strikes midnight. You practically screech, standing up from the couch to grab the noise makers. Jeonghan watches you with a fond smile on his face, getting up from the couch to snatch the confetti.

“You’re doing confetti this year?” You ask when you scramble back over, noise maker now in your grasp. Jeonghan chuckles, “Why do we always get confetti when it’s a pain to clean up afterwards?”

You purse your lips, refusing to answer the question as you begin to count down the seconds instead. Jeonghan rolls his eyes at your antics, starting to count down along with you.

“10!”

“9!”

“8!”

“7!” Jeonghan nudges you a bit, and you stumble over, making the latter laugh loudly as you squint at him.

“6!”

“5!”

“4!” You and Jeonghan turn towards each other, bright smiles on your faces as you continue to count down.

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

“Happy New Year!” You both cheer, and Jeonghan throws the confetti up high into the air. You laugh excitedly as it falls around the two of you, feeling your heart warm when he turns to you and grasps your face with his hands.

Your eyes softly fall shut as Jeonghan leans in and captures your lips in a kiss to celebrate the new year. Your hands trail up and rest on his sides, gripping his shirt as a smile breaks out onto both of your faces. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes.

“I love you, yn.” He whispers, and you feel your heart swell from joy.

“I love you too, Jeonghan.” Warmth fills Jeonghan from those three simple words that hold so much depth as the two of you begin to sway side to side to the soft music filling the background.

The polaroid that Jeonghan kept in his wallet for the last two years sits up on the frame behind the both of you as you slow dance, the bright colors of the fireworks exploding outside casting an iridescent glow over the two of you.

As you scoot closer and rest your head onto Jeonghan’s chest, and his hand softly cradles the back of your head, you realize that sometimes,

Promises are meant to be broken.

1K notes · View notes

jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—amortentia.

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: hogwarts/harry potter au / enemies-to-lovers + fluff

⟶ words: 5,486

⟶ rating: pg-13

⟶ summary: jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of an old fic from my old blog since i know some of you were asking about it! i hope you enjoy!!

Jungkook loves strawberries.

He remembers fondly the warm summers as a child when he would go strawberry picking with his grandmother, and revels in the taste and the memory each time he bites into a fresh berry, the juices coating his tongue in sickly sweetness; he likes the smell of all the lotions and lip balms, candles and fragrances, that carried notes of the red fruit in comforting wafts, remembering distantly a time when his mother’s fruity perfume would breathe warm life into his cold house in the middle of a dull winter; he remembers sentimental times spent at the local cafe near his home, loving and basking in the way the homely and warm aroma of a freshly baked pie and the sugary tartness of strawberry lemonade would fill his nostrils and consume his senses, leaving his mouth watering.

Jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him.

Ask any girl that thought Jeon Jungkook is handsome or any boy that thought Jungkook is a god and they would say he smells like the purest form of any man with a harmonious scent of musk, cedar wood, and oak; like fresh rain that soaked in the middle of a mossy forest, spices, and black coffee — but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Maybe he did smell of musk or wood or rain when he was continuously outside, practicing every moment he had with his Quidditch team, but Jungkook was more than just that. Really, though, it made sense as to why people thought that way about him when he had left such a lingering impression on the school.

You can still remember the very first day you saw him; the very moment you had, from your spot in line in front of the Sorting Hat on the first day as a first year, saw the stoic boy step forward. Made up of a nervous face and obsidian locks that fell into his equally dark eyes, the Hat had instantly deemed the boy a Ravenclaw — and perhaps the house’s reputation was what added to his mystique and strange charm. Even then, from what you observed, he had been a silent boy, making his way to and from classes usually alone, and somehow ignoring the gaggle of girls (from all years and from all houses) that trailed along behind him, giggling and clamouring over how cute he is.

As the months went on, you never witnessed much change in Jungkook safe for the friends he suddenly made in the first half of second year (a surprising mix of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins) and the smug attitude he began to develop. A rebel, they said, a bad boy at heart, the very antithesis of Ravenclaws. Someone all the girls craved for and all the boys yearned to be. And while you tried to assume that perhaps there was more to the boy than meets the eye — that maybe he was built on different layers you could one day explore — when he begins to become too conceited with the way he is praised, you grow disenchanted by him and his cocky smirks. Yet, for some reason, he finds it necessary to go out of his way to talk to you no matter what — and you were quick to learn to despise him and his constant mocking, all possibilities of trying to get to know him diffused.

In first year, you had to endure a whole semester worth of Jungkook tugging at your hair when he sat behind you in Charms class. In second year, an unspoken rivalry began in which the two of you would compete to see who could earn the better grades. You can’t quite pinpoint when or where the hatred for one another began, but the irritation that comes as a result of it only grows more adamant with each passing day.

In third year, you distinctly remember being confined to the many dusty oak shelves and rows of leather bound books in the library, your eyes constantly flickering to the ornate grandfather clock nearby you as you wait alone. An agreed time of 6 pm to meet in the library after dinner to work on a partnered assignment had otherwise vanished from the boy’s memory. Had it been up to you to decide what partner you wanted, you would have much rather preferred to pick one of your friends and not the Ravenclaw who was fifteen minutes late. With the project due in two days, and with the nearly three weeks you had to finish it, you had constantly asked to meet with Jungkook to work on it and each time he had made a different excuse.

As time crept on and the waning hours of the daylight dwindled to a dull darkness, twenty minutes would pass and it was then that you would grudgingly begin packing your belongings. The wait was not worth the trouble. Yet just as you are standing from your seat, the boy waltzes into view, coming to a nonchalant halt in front of you and placing his bag on the table, as if he didn’t know how late he is. He has abandoned his robe to wear only a grey fleece pullover on top of his white button up, his torn up Converse shoes ruining the uniform outfit with his casual flare. Your stare flickers up to meet his smug face and a frown forms on yours as you spot the other third year Slytherin girl giggling a flirtatious goodbye to the boy who winks in response. Finally, he turns to look at you.

“You’re leaving already?” Jungkook asks. “I just got here.”

“Twenty minutes later, Jeon,” You snap.

The boy quirks a brow, twisting around in his spot to look at the clock. “I could have sworn you said we should meet at six-thirty. I’m ten minutes early.”

“I remember saying six o’clock,” You say. “As well as you telling me that six was perfectly fine. Look, History of Magic isn’t my favourite either but I would appreciate it if you at least put some effort into the class and this project.”

“Shh!”

The hiss that comes from the student studying near you only makes you scowl. You turn around hotly to continue shoving your books and papers into your backpack.

“I was busy,” Jungkook says.

“Busy flirting with every living thing?” You asks.

“What?” Confusion paints his face, and then he is shaking his head furiously. “No!”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You point over your shoulder at the same Slytherin girl who is still within the library, standing just a few feet away from the pair of you. She has an opened book in her hands in an attempt to look distracted but her eyes are fixated solely on Jungkook. When she catches Jungkook staring, his gaze lifting over your shoulder, she hurriedly looks away and blushes.

“So I assume she’s just a friend?” You retaliate. “You know what your problem is, Jeon? You never take anything seriously.”

Immediately, Jungkook tenses. His arms snake around to cross in front of his chest.

“Well, you take everything too seriously,” he says. “When was the last time you had some fun? Any time I talk to you, you’re always fussing about the work or about how much you hate me— it’s like you’re a walking, talking, breathing dementor! You suck the life out of everyone.”

“Shh!”

The snarl this time is much harsher, coming from yet another student who has been devoting his time to writing an essay. But now you can’t be bothered to worry about silence. You slam shut the book in your hand with a very loud thump that seems to echo around the eerily silent room and fling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Well, I’m sorry that I, and this assignment, are such inconveniences to you,” You say, “but from now on I give up on making sure we both don’t fail this class. If you need me, which I assume you won’t, I’ll be in my room, far from you.”

“Excuse me!” The familiar bark of the librarian’s voice hardly makes you jump even as she comes marching down to the two of you. “This is a library, a quiet place to study. It would be greatly appreciated if you could bring your conversation out into the halls.”

Had she not interrupted your conversation with Jungkook, you would have never realized just how loud your voice had risen. Clearing your throat and tightening your grip on your bag and the book, you tear your eyes from Jungkook and stomp defiantly out into the corridors to retreat to your common room, leaving Jungkook alone. He would find you the day after in a sluggish state, his hair dishevelled and his clothes askew as if he had slept in them — or, rather, had not slept at all — showing you all the work he had finished for the assignment the night before.

In fourth year, you are leaving the stands of the Quidditch pitch on a surprisingly warm November evening. Following the slew of students back to the school after a heated game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor — where the latter team won after a fiery race between the two Seekers for the golden snitch — the eager chatter buzzes in the air. Beside you are your two friends who are, just as many others are doing, whispering excitedly about Jungkook’s role as Seeker and his “amazing performance.”

“Did you see the way Jungkook played?” Hana asks from the right side of you. “How can someone be so attractive?”

To your left, Nayeon is practically standing on the tip of her toes, desperately craning her neck to search the crowd for the boy and his friends. “Oooh, look! There he is! He’s so sweaty! Imagine his muscles—”

“You’re ridiculous,” You sigh with a disapproving shake of your head.

Despite your condescending tone, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to follow your friends’ gaze. Laughing in triumph with his team and friends, Jungkook stands adorned in the usual Ravenclaw royal blue Quidditch uniform, the robes somehow accentuating his tanned skin and dark hair that clings to his sweat-covered forehead. Since when had he grown so tall? And maybe Nayeon was right — since when did Jungkook start looking so muscular?

“Your staring is obvious, Y/N,” Hana says.

“And so is your crush on him,” Nayeon murmurs.

“Crush?” You burst out into laughter. “Now that’s funny. I could never have a crush on him!”

“Have a crush on who?”

The familiar voice makes you groan inwardly and the arm that is tossed around your neck almost makes you gag. Your body grows rigid under Jungkook’s touch, though he doesn’t seem to notice that or the way you carefully try to peel his arm off of you but to no avail. Joining him is his typical duo of friends. The other Slytherin boy next to Jungkook is the shy and soft Park Jimin, accompanied by their inseparable Hufflepuff friend, Kim Taehyung. The two boys smirk wolfishly down at your friends, both of whom are so suddenly at a loss for words.

“Evenin’, ladies!” Jimin says. “Enjoy the show?”

“We hate to brag but we taught him everything he knows,” Taehyung says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and swats Taehyung’s hand away. “Maybe the three of you can come down to watch us practice one day.”

Your friends exchange glances and giggle nervously.

“We’d love to,” Nayeon smiles.

Your lack of response clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, nor Jungkook and his friends. As you turn your head to look away from the group, you briefly catch the sudden scent that is Jungkook and your face scrunches. It isn’t so much as gross as it is overpowering. Passed salt and sweat, you can smell something clean like freshly cut grass or some sort of lemongrass shampoo. But instead of telling him out loud what you thought, you pushed him away.

“You smell terrible,” You said. “Go take a shower, Jeon.”

“Always playing hard to get,” Jungkook sighs. “Sorry we can’t all smell like your floraly essence after playing an intense Quidditch game.”

You only hum in response, turning your head to look away from him and his friends. The act seems to earn a smirk from Jungkook and then he and his friends are parting from you, walking back to the locker rooms. After that day, your friends’ profuse pleads and begs for you to come with them one day when the Quidditch teams are practicing would eventually make you cave in. When Jungkook sees you sitting in the stands burrowed in a wool scarf and heavy robes, albeit with a frown on your face and your eyes scanning the pages of a book in your lap, he catches your attention by shouting your name and then winking at you. Seconds later, a Quaffle is thrown his way by a fellow teammate and nearly knocks him off his broom.

In fifth year, you are seated in your Transfiguration class at the back and nearly dozing off as your Professor drones on and on in the early morning about some boring lecture. Jungkook sits in the row opposite you and a seat behind but that doesn’t stop him from constantly trying to catch your attention, whispering your name. It is only when you hear a few classmates near you break out into wondrous awes that you lift your head from its resting place wedged between your folded arms on top of your desk and turn. Soaring above the students’ heads is an enchanted paper bird, its thin wings fluttering its way to you.

You gaze at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before noticing that it is Jungkook who had magicked it, wand in hand as he waves it towards you. As soon as it reaches your table, it floats around your head and lingers in front of your face, beckoning you to take it. Instead, your hands try swatting it away though it doesn’t seem to budge. When you relent and succumb to taking the bird, it is not before you shoot an annoyed glance back at Jungkook. Then, you unwrap the bird in your hand. With thin black ink sprawled out in perfect cursive writing, a single dreadful question is poised in pretty script: Meet me tomorrow at noon at the Three Broomsticks? It’ll be my treat.

“Is that from Jungkook?” Hana asks. She peers over your shoulder from beside you to look down at the paper, her voice incredibly louder than you would have liked. “It is! Is he asking you out? You know, I always knew you liked him. You’re a terrible liar— ”

You gasp. Your hand quickly covers the paper, yanking it out of Hana’s view. “I do not like him!”

“Do too!” Hana laughs. “So, what are you going to say? Huh, who knew Jungkook was so soft and cute? Have I told you how cute the two of you would be together?”

Maybe it’s the way she so suddenly begins to gush over you dating Jungkook, or the way her voice garners the attention of those sitting around you, letting other girls fawn over how cute his simple gesture is, that makes you curdle with embarrassment. But what are you so shy of? You are insistent that you don’t like Jungkook but you were certain that if word spread that you did have feelings for him, your whole life would be drastically ruined. Or maybe you were more fearful of the idea of possibly liking Jungkook in return, even if you had so profusely been lying to everyone and yourself.

“Stop it!” You hiss. “I would rather kiss the squid in the Black Lake than date him!”

Then, as if to emphasize this apparent hatred, you grab your quill and furiously write in big scratchy letters “NO” before crumpling it in your hand and twisting in your seat. Set on chucking the balled up piece of paper right at Jungkook’s smug face, you are startled when you feel the paper being plucked from your grasp by none other than your Professor. She stands before you with a sour look on her face, a willowy old lady with gray wisps of hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“Ah, Miss Y/N,” she hums, “if you have more important matters that you seem to want to discuss with Mr. Jeon, surely you can divulge with the rest of the class too.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You watch, stricken with horror, as she unravels the paper in her hands, her glossy eyes skimming its contents from beneath her half-moon spectacles. She purses her lips, and then shifts her gaze to you and then to Jungkook sitting behind you. The silence that follows as she moves towards him is near unbearable, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“If you would have much rather preferred to flirt with Miss Y/N than listen to my lecture, feel free to leave my class, Jeon,” Your Professor says. She drops the paper onto his desk with a flourish. “Though, it’d be in your best interest to stop your daydreaming and pay attention to my class because I’m afraid her answer was no.”

Your eyes widen as you twist in your seat to look at your Professor and a startled Jungkook. And, maybe, if you looked hard enough and passed the smug smirk, you could see his conceited stare falter as a look of hurt flashes across his eyes. A few murmurs and giggles break out amongst the students, making your cheeks burn hot and forces you to turn back around and away from Jungkook.

“And I suppose that now neither of you are busy tomorrow, you wouldn’t mind spending it in detention with me,” Your Professor says. Then she was rounding on her heel, marching back to the front of the classroom and restarting her lecture.

After the torturous detention where Jungkook suddenly refuses to look or talk to you after what had happened, and a week after the missed Hogsmeade trip, you would find Jungkook walking the halls, hand-in-hand, with another Ravenclaw girl. As they pass you, seemingly unaware of your lingering presence, you see the girl stop Jungkook and lean forward to kiss him, his own hands resting on her waist and tugging her closer to him. Though you tell yourself you’re free from his constant flirting and mocking, you can’t help but feel somewhat let down as you walk away that day.

In the beginning of sixth year, when all the students had found a moment to themselves and a much needed break from all the sudden stress of homework, you would wind up at a party being held in the Room of Requirements. Though you weren’t quite sure how the students were able to smuggle alcohol into the school, you remember drinking until you are blissfully numb and without a care in the world. Most of the evening had been spent chatting to Nayeon and Hana but when they become distracted with flirting with their crushes, you are left alone. It isn’t much long after that you stumble into Jungkook. Drunkenly dancing to the upbeat thump of music that reverberated around the room, you had, somehow, lost your footing. As you fall into the thick crowd, a pair of strong hands reach out to swiftly catch onto yours arms and hold you up. Jungkook’s surprised when you don’t bother pushing him away and let him help straighten you up. Clearly, you’re much too drunk to function, and he makes sure to hold you at a comfortable distance away from him. Then, there, under the dim lights of the room, you are met with his typical smirk tugging at his luscious pink lips (which you find yourself gazing at for longer than necessary).

“Ah, if it isn’t Jeon Jungkook,” You rasp. You sway dangerously in his hold and nearly fall to the floor again. He tightens his grip on you and catches you once more before you can slip away. “What do you want from me tonight?”

“Hey, you bumped into me. I’m just being nice and making sure you don’t face-plant the floor.”

“Yeah, but of course you had to be right beside me. I think I’d rather have face-planted the floor.”

He quirks a brow. He feigns dropping you, momentarily loosening his grip just enough for you to come flailing forward with a yelp of surprise. He doesn’t let you fall too far, though, and catches onto you swiftly once more, hooking his arm around your waist. When you meet his stare with a scowl, he grins. “You were saying?”

“Do you remember that one time you told me I never have fun?”

“Not really.”

“Ah, well, you say a lot of shit to me,” You say. “But that stuck out the most. You called me a dementor. A dementor. My thirteen year old self never forgot that.”

Jungkook winces at how carefree you seemed to say it, at how you still remembered it three years later. His hands drop from you once you’re steady and he runs his fingers through his locks, softly pushing them up and out of his eyes before they ultimately fall flat against his forehead once more.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “I mean, look at you now. You seem to be having a lot of fun. How drunk are you anyway?”

“It’s not fun when it feels like I’m trying to prove a point to you,” You sigh. “But I already know you don’t care about me.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook says. “You’re the one who doesn’t care about me.”

You burst out into a fit of mocking laughter and shake your head at him. Swaying forward, almost precariously close to him, you tap the tip of his nose with your finger. “Jeon Jungkook, you can be real oblivious.”

And then you are kissing him, pressing your soft lips to his. He doesn’t push you away, albeit however incredibly surprised he may be. Instead, as he feels your lips move against his, he finds himself basking in everything that is you. All he can smell is your floral perfume and, passed the liquor that stained your lips, could taste your peach lip balm and the bubble gum you had been chewing earlier in the night. He hates how much he loves it. His hands lift to rest on either side of your face and he gently brings you closer to him, his tongue laving at your peach flavoured lower lip. He hears you moan softly in content as you melt against his chest, your fingers suddenly tugging desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s then that you realize that all you can smell is the scent of freshly cut grass and his lemony shampoo, but all you can taste is something warm and sugary that feels all too comforting.

You come to the conclusion in your drunken mind that you would have loved to keep kissing him. That, maybe, kissing Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so bad. But then just as suddenly as you had kissed him, he is pulling away from you, sending you crashing and burning down from your reverie. With swollen pink lips, wide eyes, and dishevelled hair, Jungkook shakes his head abruptly and mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

He flees from your grasp and from the party before you can stop him — and it is in that moment that you began to hate Jungkook, but not more than you hate yourself for actually enjoying the way it felt to kiss someone like him. You would never learn why he had left so soon until much later when he tells you that he didn’t want you to regret anything you did drunk — didn’t want you to regret kissing someone like him when you had seemed to hate him for years prior.

In the second half of sixth year, when you begin to fail Potions, your Professor does what he thinks is best and pairs you with Jungkook, the smartest student in his class. Hearing that Jungkook, of all people, is remarkable at Potions doesn’t come as a surprise. You are quick to learn just why he had been placed into Ravenclaw, carrying their impressive ambition and intelligence. If anything, you are almost jealous of how easily he seems to pick up on things and can reproduce them at top notch quality.

Your friendship with him is still strained and is perhaps even worse than it had once been ever since the night of the party. Neither of you talk about the moment and, from what either of you were concerned, both of you had long since forgotten the night had ever happened. Unbeknownst to you is that when Jungkook sees how cold and distant you become in the days after, he refuses to tell you the truth that the kiss is always on his mind. So, when you are forced to work with him for any assignments or in-class work, most of your conversations end in constant bickering. Miraculously, somehow, your grades do gradually begin to pick up.

One day, when you both walk into class, you are greeted to the sight of a smoldering cauldron placed neatly on top of your Professor’s desk, a beautiful scent filling the room that seems to be coming specifically from whatever has been brewing. The liquid contents within contains a mother-of-pearl sheen and clear smoke spirals from it in wisps. As soon as everyone is seated at their desks, your Professor steps forward and begins his lecture.

“Good evening, class!” he chirps. “Today we have a very exciting lecture that has to do with what is currently sitting on my desk. Now, can anyone tell me what exactly it is?”

A few shouts of guesses are tossed into the air but all are wrong as your Professor simply shakes his head. Jungkook raises his hand casually and your Professor points enthusiastically at him.

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“It’s Amortentia,” he says.

“Right you are, my boy!” Your Professor beams. “Five points to Ravenclaw! This is, in fact, Amortentia. Now, for those of you who do not know what it is, that is perhaps all the best. But as it is, it’s important to educate you on the various effects each potion can have on a being and why someone should, or should not, administer it. Amortentia, simply put, is a love potion.”

Gasps of awe and murmurs from certain students circulate the room as your Professor carries on.

“And not just any love potion — the most powerful love potion in the world,” he says. “If anyone were to receive such a potion, it would cause an intense infatuation and obsession on the drinker. However, the potion must be continuously administered to the drinker or else the effects will wear off and the drinker will regain his or her conscience and free will. Now, if you ever wanted to know how to identify Amortentia, you can rely on its very distinct smell. Differing on the person who smells it, it will always morph into the scent of whomever you desire most. For instance, I smell lemon drops, toothpaste, and parchment paper. You may all smell something different.”

A handful of students lean forward in their seat, desperately moving closer to the cauldron and the potion that carried such charming scents. Despite not wanting to show your immediate interest in something as strange as a love potion, you sit back in your seat but inhale a slow, deep breath of air and the scent that makes your heart skip a beat. It would pose as an obstacle to focusing on the lecture as your Professor carried on, though you find you’re not the only one so easily distracted by it. Halfway through the class, he stops his lecture and informs the students of their task for the evening: replicating Amortentia perfectly with the help of the partner sitting next to them.

So, you and Jungkook immediately head to work, beginning the tedious process of preparing ingredients and brewing the potion. Naturally, your own potion brewing goes faster than others as Jungkook seems to know what to do with everything. For the most part, you sit back and watch, as Jungkook refuses your help any time you offer, claiming you would only just slow him down. When it’s done, and the entire class is still halfway through theirs, you fold your arms over your chest and look up at Jungkook, noting the way his eyebrows scrunch together as he peers down at the glistening potion.

“I can’t smell anything,” You say. “Did you even do this right?”

Jungkook grimaces, though his stare falters. He doesn’t admit it aloud, but he worries for a moment that maybe he isn’t as good at Potions as he thought he was. In the next second, he scowls and shoots you a look.

“What kind of question is that?” he asks. “Of course I did it right! I followed everything properly. It even looks perfect.”

“Well, obviously it isn’t perfect if neither of us can smell anything,” You say.

“Well,” Jungkook says, irritated, “maybe if you didn’t bathe yourself in your ridiculous floral perfume, I could smell something.”

“Me?” Your mouth drops open in an appalled gap. “Now it’s my fault? You’re one to talk. Did you have practice this morning? All I can smell is grass and your stupid lemon shampoo or whatever it is. It’s disgusting.”

The bickering continues on between the two of you until you’ve seemingly grabbed the attention of the entire class. Near the very end of the period, it’s Taehyung who finally says something, leaning back in his chair to look at the two of you.

“Jungkook didn’t have practice this morning,” he says. “He also didn’t shower because he slept in late. Or did you forget that, Jungkook?”

“And Y/N?” Nayeon chimes in from beside you. “Didn’t you run out of your perfume last week?”

Jungkook clamps his mouth shut. Your own heart stops. Suddenly, your face is burning intensely and Jungkook’s own cheeks are pinched a bright red as, slowly, the realization seems to dawn on the both of you. Chuckles emit from your friends as your Professor signals that the time is up. You don’t dare look at Jungkook as your Professor grades each potion, and then anxiously await the chance to dash out the door when your Professor claims yours and Jungkook’s potion was done just perfect. As soon as he moves on to the next pair, you have gathered your belongings and have darted out the room. You are nearly halfway down the corridor when you hear Jungkook calling after you, begging you to stop.

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N! Wait up, please!”

Your feet quicken in pace as you round the corner. Just when you think you’re free, you feel a hand clasp around your wrist and pull you back into a hardened figure. Jungkook. He’s standing so incredibly close to you now, his gaze softening as he looks you once over. You can only avoid his stare, though your eyes fall to the distraction that is his hand clamped around your wrist.

“I really am not in the mood to talk right now, Jungkook,” You mumble. “Just leave me alone.”

“What else did you smell?” Jungkook asks.

His question makes you stop. It’s what causes you to carefully lift your stare to look at him.

“What?” You stammer. “What does it matter?”

“Just tell me, please,” he says, his grip tightening around your wrist. “I need to know.”

You could have shaken your head at him, pushed him away and walked off, but the longer you stare at him, the faster you begin to cave. Your mind is instantly brought back to just moments ago and the love potion that had filled your senses. As you think about all the lovely things you could smell, you whisper the answer in a sheepish voice:

“Strawberries.”

There is a split moment where all you can see is Jungkook’s beaming grin before he is pulling you toward him for a kiss that nearly sweeps you off your feet. You collapse against his broad chest, your hands flying up to bundle in his shirt and pull at him tightly as he kisses you and kisses you. You wonder why he had done so spontaneously but then it seems to hit you.

All you can smell on Jungkook, all you can taste, is lemon, grass, and strawberries.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

#btsbookclub #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fluff #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jeongguk fluff #jeon jeongguk #jeon jeongguk fluff #bts fanfic #bts oneshots #bangtan #hogwarts au bts

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smutbymia · 4 years

Note

classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno:

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few.

You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment.

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height.

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out.

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project.

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze.

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path.

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat.

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face.

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides.

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen.

JENO: It’s Jeno

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm.

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want.

JENO: Just be there we have work to do.

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun.

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich.

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at.

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered.

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school.

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back.

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen.

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes.

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing.

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons.

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you.

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off.

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer.

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything.

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you.

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression.

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you.

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back.

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke.

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin.

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip.

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot.

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured.

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes.

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee.

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against.

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving.

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact.

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable.

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.”

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts.

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder.

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned.

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned.

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast.

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin.

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking.

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed.

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure.

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you.

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over.

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room.

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth.

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body.

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...”

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs.

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers.

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms.

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression.

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing.

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself.

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly.

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out.

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate.

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power.

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate.

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment.

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned.

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off.

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly.

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night.

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him.

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you.

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane.

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven.

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there.

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer.

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him.

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence.

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping.

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression.

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips.

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms.

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips.

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace.

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words.

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile.

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum.

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin.

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream.

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more.

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again.

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious.

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash.

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently.

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno.

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered.

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said.

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him.

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for.

#tell me your thoughts please😣#wtf i wish i was in this fic #jeno scenarios #jeno smut #jeno imagines #jeno angst #lee jeno #nct jeno #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct au #switch!jeno #nct imagines #nct scnearios #nct fanfiction #NCT Dream Scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

Text

DON’T THINK, JUST DO — na jaemin.

SUMMARY. an overthinker, a piece of advice, a sudden confession, and a subtle meltdown.

PAIRING. na jaemin x g.n. reader GENRE. high school! au, f2l, fluff, humor WARNINGS. swearing WORD COUNT. 1.6k TAGLIST. @danishmiilk @wownajaemin @leejunini @astroboy-lele @unknown5tar @yunoyeol @w0nni3wrld @charm-art @bat-shark-repellant @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet @kpopscape

NOTE. surprise LMAO take this quick fic that i wrote in a couple of hours after a bathroom apology for being mia this past week, for not keeping my promises, and for my further disappearance within the next few days/weeks because i am, quite frankly, about to mcfreaking die <3 enjoy.

Self study period. Eight in the morning. Everything was normal— seemingly normal— save for the empty spot beside you where your deskmate should be occupying, perhaps pestering you yet again about the importance of eating breakfast if he were here, but he wasn’t. It was odd.

He’s never been late before.

Saying that makes it sound like you were closely knitted with Na Jaemin, the present absentee and your deskmate for about three years, but you couldn’t admit that you were. You couldn’t admit that you weren’t, either. Still, even if you weren’t as bro with him like his members in the school’s dance team, or as involved in his personal troubles as his childhood best friend, but at least you’ve seen the kind of lunch he brings to school every single day for three straight years. That was probably enough to form some sort of bond— though trivial, maybe even feeble, but it was enough.

That was also enough for you to develop an unsurprising crush on him. Your self-awareness was annoying enough to throw away any ounce of denial.

Which was also why you were worrying over your head when he missed the first period, even more so when he arrived like a disheveled zombie midway through the second.

“Na Jaemin,” you greeted his tardy arrival with your eyebrows creasing in worry. He greeted you with a usual good morning and his usual smile— or so he attempted to. But that smile lasted for approximately 0.813 seconds before he fell onto his seat with a contorted groan. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Did you practice too hard yesterday? Gosh, you should know better than to overdo it.”

Jaemin only whined when you reached out to pitifully caress his hair, his gaunt face and evident dark circles down buried in his arms. “I’m so tired.”

Dear lord, what happened to the model student that seemed to shine day in, day out despite his overly packed and strenuous schedule? You frowned, telling him that he should just sleep through the rest of the morning and you’d cover for him, but he rose from his slumped over position and waved you off.

“I can manage,” he gave you a tired smile. “I already missed a lot by being late.”

“You idiot, are you trying to die?” you huffed, snapping your attention off of him in annoyance. “Wait a minute, why does he look fine? Tsk. Lee Donghyuck were you slacking off while your team members were dancing to death?”

The man in question flinched, dropping his phone with a painful noise onto the table when you turned around and smacked a notebook onto his desk.

“Oi, what the fuck? What would you know when you weren’t even there?”

“Then why do you still look fresh while poor, tired Jaemin over here is—”

“It’s not that.”

You turned back around to the worn out voice beside you.

“I just didn’t get any sleep last night.”

To your surprise, Jaemin was the one who came to Donghyuck’s aid.

Donghyuck’s glare was enough to drill two gaping holes into your skill, and you simply bowed and gave him a sheepish grin in apology before switching your attention lanes back to Jaemin. Not the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done, but shameful all the same. “Then why didn’t you say so— anyway, that’s not the point. Did you stay up playing games again? Gosh, did Lee Jeno force you to rank with him? I swear, you guys should—”

“It’s kinda nice to see you worrying about me,” he chuckled, falling back down into his desk with his arms crossed and looking up at you with an invisible, fond grin. “But it’s not that either.”

Damn your stomach for suddenly deciding to stumble over at that insignificant gesture of his. He wasn’t even doing anything, but look at you. All of a sudden, guilt decided to gnaw at your conscience because while Na Jaemin was barely holding onto his consciousness, you were busy fawning over his charms despite the fatigue. You didn’t deserve to sit next to him.

“I was thinking.”

Your thoughts froze.

“About?”

“Things.”

“Like…?”

“Whether I should do this or not, whether I should just give up or not, whether I’m actually stupid or not...” Jaemin sighed, eyes closed in contemplation, or perhaps finally in drowsiness. You hoped that he’d just give in and sleep. “...those things.”

What could he have possibly been thinking about that the poor boy couldn’t even sleep? Whatever it was— cure that entirely. This was a crime. Maybe you shouldn’t confiscate his thermos of coffee later.

“Aish,” you raked your fingers through your hair, expelling an exasperated sigh. “Na Jaemin, as a professional overthinker, let me give you some professional advice—”

He perked up, eye now a little wider and looking at you in a swirl of interest and attentiveness.

“—don’t.”

And now confusion was thrown into the mix.

“You see, it’s an endless, torturous cycle with the only endgame being regret. You believe that you’re only gonna mull it over for a mere moment, weigh your pros and cons, and come up with a decision after a few minutes of thinking—” you breathed it sharply, shaking your head in faux dismay. “—but the ‘what if’s’ come around and before you know it, it’s already five in the fucking morning and you have to go to school in a few hours looking like a contaminated corpse.”

Jaemin blinked his sunken eyes at you. He wasn’t sure what to say, but somehow your speech full of vigor, confidence, and a ridiculous form of charisma drew out all the exhaustion from his veins. He buried his face back into his arms to avoid looking at you.

“Right?”

He pressed his lips together to prevent a smile from forming too wide, but you wouldn’t be able to see, anyway. “Right, you’re right,” but maybe you could hear it in the tone of his muffled voice.

You grinned, proudly nodding to yourself at his affirmation. “Which is why, before you end up following me into this hidden circle of hell— you should just stop. Don’t think. Fuck impulse control. There’s no time to regret when you’ve already done it. It’s not easy. Absolutely not. But it’s better to just get it over with and deal with the consequences after rather than living in an endless loop. So repeat after me— don’t think.”

Slowly, Jaemin peeked out from his huddled position, sitting up straight and looking right at you.

“Don’t think.”

“Just do.”

“Perfect! You got it,” you beamed. “Don’t think, just do, okay? I believe in you, Jaemin.”

The advice that was haphazardly spilling from your lips was seemingly a bit crooked in nature— arguably so— but he seemed to be genuinely considering it. Jaemin was silent for a moment, blanking out at the rows in front of the both of you before he softly spoke up, eyebrows scrunched together, his head cocking to the side.

“Should I...?”

“Yeah, definitely! You don’t have anything to lose if you do it, right?” he spared another moment of consideration, and you kept going. “...whatever it is— but that doesn’t matter, just do it. If you do, you wouldn’t lose another night of sleep because of it.”

Self study period went on as is, but luckily you two weren’t the only ones not studying. You left him alone to rest and think about it more while you scribbled down answers for an assignment that was due later— highly contradictory to your suggestion of not thinking, but all was released when you heard Jaemin drop his pen to the table, followed after by a long, deep sigh.

“Alright.”

A bright smile overtook you as you busied yourself with the assignment.

“I like you.”

That smile disappeared with a loud and violent cough.

Oh, what the fuck.

“You told me to just do it, so there, I just did it. I like you,” he yawned as he melted into his books, peering over to look at the utter shock and disbelief in your frozen expression. Jaemin had to hold back a laugh. “You don’t have to follow your own advice— take as much time as you need— but I don’t want you losing sleep over me just as I did over you.”

With that, he decided that this was the best fucking time to finally disappear into sleep. You wanted to scream— the feeling of your throat twisting over itself with the indignant desire to squeeze out something, but there was sharp heat at every breath that prevented you from doing so.

You settled for two words only.

“Holy fuck.”

“Thank you for that quick and eloquent response,” Jaemin flipped over, looking at you with tired eyes and an equally tired smile, but despite all that he was still lively. “At least it wasn’t a blatant rejection.”

You thought that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him when his bangs were messily covering his eyes, but your regret came late when you caught the subtle quirk of the corners of his lips when you looked down at him in your daze. “W—wait, who said anything about rejecting you? How dare you drop that bomb onto me when I’m unprepared? I’m never giving you advice ever again.”

Self study period over. Nine in the morning. The bell rang and before your deskmate of three years, your crush of a little less than that could slip back into the slumber that he’d missed because of you, he managed to speak in a soft voice.

“Take your time.”

#NCT-WRITERS #cznnet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #na jaemin fluff #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #nct fluff #na jaemin scenarios #jaemin scenarios #announcement #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream x reader

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obeymeluv · 4 years

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Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours.

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he’s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

#Obey me!#Obey me x reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Levi x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader

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krisdreaming · 3 years

Text

PART 2 | A PLAN

｢ Masterlist ｣ | Next >

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

Summary: Somehow, you ended up agreeing to bring your non-existent boyfriend to the family Christmas gathering at your grandparents’. Your chem lab partner and fast friend, Kuroo Tetsurou, agrees to play the part. Your developing feelings for him won’t cause any problems, right?

WC: 1.7k

A/N: As you’ll (maybe) notice there are a few small tidbits I lifted from the original fic, but this is very different from it in a lot of ways! I hope it isn’t seeming too repetitive for those of you who have read the first one. Also, I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I promise it’ll really get going in the next part.

You plan to meet Kuroo at the coffee shop again a week later. This time, you beat him there, which gives you the perfect opportunity to gather your thoughts. As you wait in line to order, you remind yourself for the hundredth time that this is really happening. Kuroo Tetsurou with his messy hair and his teasing jabs and that stupid smile has agreed to spend three whole days pretending to be your boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily, before your mind can concoct an answer, your turn to order comes up. Remembering last week, you order a cup of black coffee in addition to your usual macchiato. It’s a french roast, described as “dark and bold” on the menu. For the guy who reminds you daily that adding anything to coffee is only for the weak, it seems fitting. The comment is always paired with a teasing wink that shoots right to your middle, but that’s definitely not what you need to focus on as you carefully carry the two mugs to a table by the window.

You get situated and you’ve just taken your first sip when Kuroo plops down across from you. “Hey.”

“Hey! Here,” You push the mug in his direction.

“Oh,” He peers into the mug and gives a small, approving nod, “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s for last week,” You say with a wave of your hand, watching as he lifts it to his lips and takes the first sip. When he sets it back down, he holds the mug in front of himself with both hands.

“You were right,” He says suddenly, “This coffee shop is better than the one on campus.”

“Oh really?” You grin smugly.

“Don’t look too proud of yourself,” He laughs, lifting his mug and taking another sip, “You’re the one who has to hire a fake boyfriend.”

“I didn’t hire you,” You snap back quickly, “And it was your idea, if you’ll recall.” You sigh, propping your chin on your hand. Judging by the expression on his face, he’s already enjoying this far too much.

“Details, details,” He waves his hand. “Doesn’t matter. I am curious, though. Why exactly did you tell your family you have a boyfriend when you don’t?” The question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but you still feel your cheeks begin to burn. You glance down into your own mug so you don’t have to look him in the eye.

“It just gets old, you know?” You mumble to your coffee. “Having everyone ask about it at every family gathering. It seemed so easy to just make up a tiny story. It wasn’t supposed to get this big,” You laugh weakly. “I know it was stupid to lie. I guess I just didn’t want them to be disappointed in me.”

“I get that,” He says softly. “But hey, what do you need me to do?”

You shrug. You haven’t thought about that end of things as much as you probably should have. “Just... be my boyfriend. Charm their socks off. I know you’ve got it in you.” You chuckle. “It’ll be nice to have someone there,” You add after a beat.

“Yeah?” He says, leaning in a little closer. You’re a bit surprised by how much he genuinely seems to care. Half of you had expected him to treat this whole thing like it’s a big, elaborate joke.

“A lot of my cousins have significant others already. Maybe that’s why I felt like I had to make one up. Sometimes I just feel like the odd one out. Don’t get me wrong, I love them,” You add quickly, “But it’s just…”

“I get it,” He saves you from your floundering. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there. And as an honorary grandson, tell your grandma she can feed me as much as she likes.”

You stifle your laughter behind your fingers. “You think it’s a joke, but she might just take that as a personal challenge,” You shake your head, already feeling a little bit lighter. “Anyway, we need details, don’t we? About our ‘relationship’?” You lift your hands to make exaggerated air quotes.

“Probably a good idea,” He nods, “How awkward would it be if our stories didn’t match?”

“I’d rather not think about it.” You squeeze your fingers tighter around your mug. “So we started dating a few weeks into the school year, I guess?”

“Sure, makes sense,” He props his chin on his fist, his lips curling into a half smile as a teasing tone cuts into his voice, “And was it love at first sight?”

You think back to that first day of class. You’d been running late because you were having trouble finding the room. You’d slid into one of the few open seats left, next to that ridiculous head of hair, and you’d glanced at him in a silent apology as he flashed you a quick smile. Love? Probably not, but you can’t forget the slight leap you’d felt in your middle and chalked up to nerves.

“Why not?” You say lightly instead, adopting his teasing tone. “And for our first date… we saw a movie, then came here for coffee after. That’s normal, right?”

“Sounds like it to me,” He shrugs. “And you can call me Tetsurou. I don’t mind. Or even Tetsu.”

You think about it for a moment, mentally testing the words on your tongue. His full name seems strange enough, never mind shortening it to a nickname. “Tetsurou,” You clear your throat, “Tetsurou is fine. Thanks. And you can call me Y/N.”

“Perfect. Y/N.” He says it experimentally, a strange small smile on his face. Something in the air between you feels just a little heavier, but you push forward before you can think about it too much.

“And I should warn you,” You run your fingertip absently around the edge of your mug, “My grandma is going to show you every single photo she’s ever taken of me. Last year, it took her almost an hour to get through them with my cousin’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, perfect, I was running out of things to make fun of you about,” He just barely dodges your hand as you reach across the table to swat him.

“And my family loves all kinds of games, so we’ll probably end up playing a lot of different ones,” You continue, choosing to ignore the playful jab. “So I hope that’s not too boring for you.”

“Are you kidding? Boring is sitting at home with my dad and eating the dinner he ordered from the store. Honestly? I’m looking forward to this. Christmas with your family sounds kind of like paradise.” He looks into his mug for a few moments before lifting it to his lips and draining the last swallows. “If you want the truth, I think you’re pretty lucky.” He finishes softly.

Your breath catches in your throat for a few moments. You forget, sometimes, that not everyone has a close, crazy, embarrassing family like yours. You open your mouth, but before you can come up with a response, his expressions shifts back to his easy smile as though he hadn’t said a word.

“We’re going to have a great time. I won’t let you down,” He lifts his hand, pinkie extended, and you don’t catch on right away. “Promise,” He prompts, sticking his hand out a little further. After a moment of hesitation, you reach out and link your pinkie with his. He grins.

“Thanks. Hopefully I don’t let me down,” You say with a chuckle, pulling away and lifting your mug to swallow the lukewarm dregs in the bottom. “I should be getting back,” You say as you set the mug back down, “I have a history exam before break starts, and I really need to study for it.”

“I should get back too, I have an assignment due tomorrow that I haven’t started yet,” He admits sheepishly.

“Tsk, tsk,” You tease as you push back your chair and stand, knowing full well that you’re the last person who can scold him for procrastinating. Judging by his incredulous expression, he’s fully aware of that fact. Side by side, the two of you step out into the early winter darkness.

“Really though, thanks for helping me out,” You say as you start making your way down the sidewalk, your words puffing steam into the air, “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He knocks his arm against yours. “To be honest, after all your talk about your grandma’s cooking, I might have tagged along even if I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend,” He laughs.

“You certainly won’t go hungry,” You agree, “She’ll make sure of that. Just don’t blame me if it affects your volleyball physique.”

“Don’t worry, I’m naturally slender,” He pats his middle, “I’ve got the quickest metabolism you’ve ever seen.”

You shake your head with a chuckle. “If you say so.”

The remainder of the walk back to campus is relatively silent, the two of you walking with your hands shoved down in your pockets against the cold. Occasionally, his arm brushes against yours. It’s nice in a way, just being next to him like this. You don’t feel any pressure to fill the silence with mindless chattering, and he obviously doesn’t either. You’re content to just walk together through the chilly night.

Winter break starts in less than a week, and you and Kuroo will be leaving for your grandparents’. In an odd way, you’re looking forward to this. Of course you always enjoy spending the holiday with your family, but knowing that Kuroo will be there too has you anticipating it just a little more than usual.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it takes a few moments to realize you’ve come to a stop in front of your dorm building. “Alright, guess I’ll see you in class Tuesday,” Kuroo says, lifting his hand in a wave.

“See you then,” You wave back, watching his retreating back for a few moments before turning to go inside. You close your hand into a light fist at your side, remembering the feel of his pinkie linked with yours. It isn’t until you’re back in your dorm that you realize that, despite the long walk in the chilly evening, you don’t feel cold at all.

#haikyuu #Haikyuu imagines #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #kuroo x reader #Haikyuu x reader #queued #hqd fluffmas

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saintqueer · 3 years

Text

On Being 13

by saintqueer

Date Written: July 2019

CW: brief mention of an eating disorder

I will be posting a series of old creative nonfiction essays I wrote in 2019-20 every Friday and tagging them #a saintqueer original. Some might be a little outdated but I'm getting my feet wet in the experience of sharing my own writing again. Hope you enjoy! My inbox is always open.

Your name is Jordan. It is 2006 and you just turned 13. You are officially a teenager. Not a preteen. Nor god-forbid a tween. You’re in eighth grade at middle school in the Bay Area suburbs and you just got your first cell phone. It’s a silver LG flip phone without a camera. Modern social media has been born but is not yet widespread. Myspace and AIM are still the name of the game. And your friend’s Top 8s are literally worth crying over. You buy songs you like on iTunes for 99 cents. Songs like Far Away by Nickelback and Jesus, Take the Wheel by Carrie Underwood. That is, until you wizen up and start using LimeWire in 2007. By that time, you’ll think your tastes much improved. You’ll illegally download songs like Buy U a Drank by T-Pain, Wait For You by Elliott Yamin, and everything Chris Brown puts out. Every single feeling you have is so large it’s like it has the potential to kill you. Weird shit is happening to your body. You started puberty early but it shows absolutely no sign of stopping. Things just seem to be getting weirder and more emotional. You cut your own side bangs and they look hella cool.

Ok, let’s pause there. I’m gonna go ahead and break the fourth wall here. Reader, I was planning on doing this entire piece as a kind of immersive second person experience. But. I. Just. Can’t. It’s too hard and writing about being 13 is difficult enough. I think that intro was enough to get you in the right head space of Jordan circa 2006-2007.

Over the last year, there has been more truthful explorations of the adolescent experience in media than ever before. With shows like Pen15 and Big Mouth and films like Eighth Grade, I feel like for the first time I’m starting to come to terms with my own adolescence. Being 13 is really fucking hard. And 13-year-olds get such a bad rap when, honestly, they’re just trying to do the best they can with all the shit they’ve been thrown.

I first felt compelled to write this piece when reading a section of a book from my favorite podcaster, Karen Kilgariff. Karen describes a lecture series she went to in which one of the presenters made a case in defense of 13 year olds. Karen writes that being 13 “is the hardest age you ever have to be because of all the chemicals and hormones constantly raging through your body. It’s like you’re being drugged and then woken up with speed on a daily basis. All social structure implodes and resets itself in a totally unfamiliar way. You’re simultaneously the oldest version of a child and the youngest version of an adult, so you don’t belong anywhere. You don’t get babied, and you don’t get respect.” Basically, it fucking sucks!!!

At 13, my eating disorder was already in full swing and my body-dysmorphia-riddled brain had no shortage of reasons for why my life would be so much better if I weighed 25 pounds less. They would weigh us in gym class, one by one, and assign us our BMI classification (mine was “overweight”). I was constantly dieting, with resounding approval from family and peers; starving my growing body of whole food groups and then binging. My school used to sell these pizza hot pocket things in plastic wrapping called pizza sticks (they were so DELICIOUS). One time, I found an unopened and still-warm pizza stick on the floor next to a garbage can. Wildly hungry from my meager carb-less lunch I picked it up off the floor and shoved it into my mouth, facing the wall, in as few bites as possible so no one would see. OFF THE FLOOR…OUTSIDE. I think it was on a pile of leaves and other trash (though unopened, it was slightly flattened on one side so it might have been stepped on?). This is actually the first time I’ve told anyone that I did that. Blogging is fun.

I was truly beginning to understand that my body was a commodity in society. I couldn’t take up space as a girl and to be beautiful was to be frail. My body was a sexual thing but I was not allowed to be a sexual being. Boys were the horny ones, not girls. But boy, was I! The thing was I couldn’t tell anyone, only the bathtub faucet could know. This was heightened all the more by my church and my faith. Youth group taught me the importance of dressing modestly and how we had to do everything within our power to help easily tempted boys remain sexually pure. I had so much shame that I had any kind of sexuality at all.

A majority of us wanted to fit in when we were 13. And I wanted it desperately. It’s not necessarily that I wanted to be cool, it’s more like I just wanted to belong. I wanted to have best friends. I wanted boys to have crushes on me. I wanted to be wanted. And it never happened for me. I didn’t develop deep lasting friendships until my late teens. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 21, for god’s sake. My friends at 13 were changeable and excluding. I felt like I was constantly vying for their approval and as I entered high school in 2007, my social life became the center of my world.

Admittedly, high school felt much more enjoyable than middle school. I had established my place in the cool crowd and shirked academics. I stopped listening to Christian Rock and started listening to Lil Wayne and learning how to twerk. I cut class with a friend to straighten my hair with my hot pink straightener in Starbucks. I got in trouble with the cops for underage drinking. I got better at actually starving myself for a few days at a time instead of just dieting. I was significantly better at swearing. However, every single thing still felt like the biggest deal ever and it felt like it would always be that way.

Now, over a dozen years later, I hardly ever think about how it felt to be 13. I always forget that I “fell in love” with a boy named Alex at church summer camp who I saw from afar five times and talked to once for two minutes. It’s hard to believe now that I wrote his name in sharpie on my converse sneakers and sang I Drive Myself Crazy by *Nsync while crying and staring directly back at myself in the mirror.

This might seem unforgiving but I feel like the one redeemable thing about being 13 is that it doesn’t last forever. It ends. You grow and you change and you work through your trauma. If you’re lucky, you get better friends and you go to therapy and do some healing over ten years later by watching tv shows and movies that remind you of every painful feeling. Then you look back and laugh. You laugh at that school dance where Peter said he’d never, ever slow dance with you. You laugh at the school dance less than a year later where you grind provocatively on a dude you don’t know to Get Low by Lil Jon and the Ying Yang Twins. You laugh (hysterically, I might add) at eating that pizza stick off the floor. You laugh at smoking weed for the first time using a plastic water bottle your friend somehow turned into a shitty bong. You laugh at shoplifting your first thong from Ross. You laugh at your self-cut side bangs. You laugh and you laugh and you laugh and then you, finally, move on.

#a saintqueer original #creative nonfiction series #honestly this kind of made me cackle out loud reading for the first time in two years #especially that pizza hot pocket story hahahaha im losing it lol #i remember this was very fun to write two summers ago #i was dating a girl for the first time and just having a wild summer and it was so nice to look back and reflect on my adolescence #with humor rather than cringing #anyways hope y'all get a giggle out of this #eating disorders tw

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

Another Life

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

I’ve decided to take this story to properly introduce Switch!Jack to the AU. Because I think I’ve come up with a great way for him to fit in and I’m really excited to see more of him :D And most of the others are, too. Except for Anti. Seems like his trust issues are acting up. Those two just need to get to know each other, it’ll be fiiiiiine. Anyway, hope you guys like this story, and like Switch!Jack as much as I do ^-^

More of this AU found here

It was noon on a Friday, and Anti was getting off a bus. He watched as it pulled away from the stop, then sighed. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this. But the others did, and so here he was, reluctantly going along with their plan to get to know this new guy: Jack, Sam’s friend.

He never understood why the others—JJ and Jackie especially—were always so eager to add new people to this group. Especially people they barely knew, like Jack. Really, what had he done so far? He’d showed up at the park and got Anti home after that incident at the Aspen Street house. Then told the others that he was fine. And...that was it. But because he was connected to Sam, and they knew that strange little eyeball to be friendly, they thought it was a good idea to get to know the guy. Anti just didn’t see the point. They didn’t know anything about him! What if this was some sort of trick?

Sighing, Anti started walking, heading towards the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. At the very least, he could use this as a way to figure out what was going on with Sam. See if they could learn what Sam was, and things like that.

They’d invited Jack to The Waffle Cone, one of their usual places, thinking the casual, familiar setting would be a nice getting-to-know-you environment. But instead of their usual spot at a table near the window, they’d instead taken one of the booths near the back, in a slight alcove with no windows nearby. So that Sam could fly around the semi-hidden area without being seen by passerbys. Though Anti couldn’t help but notice when he walked in that Jack, and therefore Sam, were nowhere to be seen. Why was that? A harmless reason, or something else? He sighed as he walked towards the back to join the others.

“Hey Anti!” Jackie stood up, reaching out but pausing before actually making contact.

“Hey.” Anti patted Jackie on the back. It was a casual contact day. “Wow, so Highlighter Hair is even later than I am?”

“Highlighter Hair? C’mon, Anti,” Jackie sighed.

“Well he’s right, his hair is really bright,” Marvin pointed out from where he was sitting near the wall. “Why woul’ anyone want t’at? Doesn’ it just draw attention?”

“Some people want that,” Schneep muttered. He was sitting opposite Marvin, but when Anti showed up he stood and walked out of the booth, letting Anti have the seat by the wall.

“Yeah, the question is why,” Anti said, sitting down. “Like, if you have a magic eyeball companion, you’d want to blend in, right?”

After a bit of musical chairs they ended up with Anti by the wall, Schneep next to him, then Jackie on the end. On the other bench were Marvin and JJ. Maybe it’s for work? Jameson suggested, signing slowly.

“For a job? Is that what you said?” Anti asked. JJ nodded, and at that, Anti considered the idea. “Well, what does he do that needs neon-colored hair?”

JJ reached into his pocket. After a bit of rummaging, he took out his wallet, and put the card Jack had given him into the middle of the table. Everyone leaned close to look. “Oh, so he’s a musician,” Jackie said.

“A musician with a weird floating eyeball companion who can talk with him telepathically,” Anti stressed.

“You know, considering you are the only other person here with dyed hair, you really should not be judging people on their appearance,” Schneep commented.

“I—that’s not the point!” Anti protested. “He’s got to be something more!”

“Well we can ask him, because he’s showin’ up,” Marvin said, gesturing towards the front entrance. At that very moment, Jack was walking in, hands in his pockets and highlighter-bright hair practically glowing in the sunlight, and looking around. Jackie stood up and waved to draw his attention. Jack smiled and waved back, then headed over.

“Hi everyone. Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding into the empty spot next to JJ. “I got lost. This place is pretty far from the tourist-y parts of the city I’ve been in so far.”

“Oh my god!” Schneep threw his hands up in the air. “Why is everyone Irish?!”

Anti and Marvin burst into laughter. “Hey, I’m not Irish,” Jackie pointed out.

“Your mom is, it is the same thing if you are half,” Schneep rebutted.

JJ picked his pencil and notebook up from the table and wrote, I’m definitely not Irish. 100% British.

“Oh, god, Jems, that’s even worse,” Marvin snickered.

JJ gasped exaggeratedly, then nudged Marvin’s arms, making him laugh more.

Jack was chuckling as well. “Yeah, I was just thinking to myself that this city has a lot of Irish people in it. Even the name sounds more Irish than British, right? ‘Mirygale.’ I’ve been all over, and that’s not very English if you ask me. Wonder why that is.”

Jackie shrugged. “I guess maybe there’s always been a bunch of Irish people in the area. I bet if you looked up city history there’d be something interesting there.”

“You sound like a primary school teacher assigning a topic to a kid’s first essay,” Anti muttered. “Is Sam here?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jack took off his backpack and unzipped it. The moment it was open enough Sam flew out. They looked around, taking in the setting, then floated back down to the table, scooting closer to Jack, who patted them, smiling. “We always go everywhere together. Which is why I was so worried when they decided to come here on their own and didn’t tell me.”

Schneep hummed. “They did that without telling you? Is that not a bit rude?”

“We’ve already talked it over by ourselves,” Jack said. “So if you’re trying to get them to apologize, they already did.”

“Okay, Jack. Mr. McLoughlin.” Anti leaned across the table, getting as close to Jack as he could without Schneep shoving him back. “Time to talk about this. Where the fuck do you get a floating eyeball? Where did they come from? Why can you talk to them but nobody else can? Also what the fuck are they? None of us have ever heard of a floating green eye. What are you?”

“Anti,” Jackie said, putting a hand on his arm. “Can you back off a bit? We just met the guy.”

Jack was unphased by Anti’s hostile tone and blatant mistrust. He just adjusted his glasses and said, “Yeah, Sam’s told me all about you guys. You’re all magic or something, right?”

“Well, technic’lly Jems is the only magician,” Marvin pointed out. JJ nodded, then pulled his usual parlor trick of tiny blue fireworks.

“Whoa.” Jack whistled. “I’ve never really talked to a real magician before.”

JJ tilted his head. So...you know there are real magicians?

“Sort of, yeah. Sam and I have met some, but it was always a lot of questioning and exchanging information, you know, kinda like what Anti’s trying to do.” Anti jumped at being called out like that, and Jack laughed a bit. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. But if we’re at a restaurant, can we at least order food first? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, of course. Hang on.” Jackie handed Jack his menu. “Here, let’s all find something then I’ll go up and order.”

A while later everyone had their food, eating and chatting about nothing. Except for Anti. He just kept staring at Jack, eyes narrowed, listening to everyone else talk about movies and video games and books. Sam was curled up around the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table, constantly turning around to follow the thread of conversation. “So does Sam need to eat?” Anti asked the second there was a lull in the conversation. “Because they never did when they were staying with me.”

Jack shook his head, taking a moment to swallow the bite of his sandwich he’d just taken. “No, but they get really upset when I don’t. We like, share energy. Mostly. They just kinda get hangry.”

You share energy and you can hear their thoughts? So you ARE connected somehow, JJ quickly wrote.

“Guys, we really shouldn’t be asking questions Jack doesn’t want to answer right now,” Jackie pointed out.

“No no no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Jack reassured him. “I’m not actually upset about it. I just thought we’d get to know each other a little first. Sam’s told me a lot about you guys, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Sorry, JJ signed. Then realizing Jack probably didn’t know what he said, he wrote Sorry out on the paper instead.

“Really, it’s alright.”

“Jackie, it is fine,” Schneep said. “We are all curious, Jack is fine with it, really there is no problem.”

“Wait, t’ere was a problem?” Marvin asked, confused.

“No, no problem!” Jack repeated. “Man, there is no train of thought with you guys. Or there is, it’s just all winding around and no one is driving.”

“Thanks, it’s the ADD in two of us combined with the bad social skills of the others,” Jackie said.

“Wh—well, we know, but hey,” Schneep said, mock-offended.

“Anyway, back to the question,” Anti said, rubbing the side of his head where an ache was starting to develop. “You and Sam are connected?”

“Uh-huh.” Jack nodded. Sam wiggled their way out from between the salt and pepper and hopped over to Jack’s shoulder. “Of course we are, they’re my eye.”

There was a moment of silence as the others all collectively processed that statement. “Wait, y’mean...literally?” Marvin finally asked.

“Yep. Here, I’ll tell you the story.” Jack leaned back, tapping the table with his fingers. “I was about...nine or ten, and one day, my right eye just started really aching. My family took me to the doctor, but they couldn’t find anything wrong, so they just gave me some bandages to cover my eye and told me to keep it closed. Don’t remember why. But a couple days later, I woke up in the middle of the night and the whole right side of my head hurt. So I got out of bed, went over to the mirror on my desk, and took off the bandages to see if something looked wrong. The minute I did, plop! My eye fell out.”

“Oh my god!” Jackie gasped.

“You can bet that freaked me the fuck out,” Jack continued. “And then I looked down, and it was green, and glowing. And then it started to move, and it looked at me. And that was Sam.”

And you didn’t TELL anyone?! JJ asked, aghast.

“Jamie, please, what was he supposed to do?” Schneep asked. “He probably thought he would get in trouble with his parents.”

“Actually I thought that if I told anyone the government would come take me away,” Jack corrected. “So, uh. Yeah. Same idea, I guess. Same result. Sam stayed a secret, and over time they started getting bigger and able to fly, and now here they are.” Sam bounced, then nuzzled Jack’s neck.

“What about your eye now?” Marvin asked.

“That’s even weirder. I went back to bed, and in the morning, my eye was back in place. But Sam was still around. Of course, I was ten, so that made perfect sense to me at the time, but freaky as fuck looking back on it.”

“So it’s not fake?” Anti asked skeptically.

“Nope.” Jack tapped his cheek below his right eye. “Can see out of it and everything. I do kinda wish it looked a bit cooler, though. Like your thing, with the different colors? That would be cool.”

Anti didn’t say anything, not taking Jack’s clear peace offering.

I’ve never heard of something like this happening, JJ wrote. And neither has anyone I’ve spoken to. Have you, Jack?

Jack shook his head. “As far as I know, Sam and I are one-of-a-kind.”

“That is fascinating,” Schneep muttered. “I wonder why that happened? There was nothing that could have caused Sam?”

“Not that I remember,” Jack shrugged. “I’m just a guy, really. A guy with a living eyeball that has their own personality.”

“That’s not something that happens to ‘just a guy,’” Anti insisted. “And what do you do with this one-of-a-kind opportunity? You can’t tell me that you do regular shit when your life is like this.”

“Anti, I—” Jackie sighed. “Anti, can I talk to you? Somewhere private?”

“We’re in a restaurant, Jackie.”

“Then let’s go to the bathroom. C’mon.” Jackie stood up. Sighing, Anti started to get out of the booth, waited a moment for Schneep to let him out, then followed Jackie into the men’s bathroom.

“Well, we’re here,” Anti said, checking to make sure that nobody else was in the stalls. “And we’re alone. What’s wrong?”

“Look, Anti, I know you don’t like meeting new people,” Jackie said. “But you’re being...well...more dickish to Jack than usual. What’s the deal? Did you not like Sam or something?”

“No, I like Sam,” Anti said shortly. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let them stay with me. Would’ve given them to one of you guys.”

“Okay, well, Sam and Jack are clearly a package deal, so what’s up?” Jackie folded his arms. “Because honestly? You’re being ridiculous. No, you’re being actively hostile. You weren’t like this with Marvin and JJ, you know. You weren’t like this with Stacy. What is it about Jack that’s causing this?”

Anti shifted on his feet, not looking at Jackie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flipping it open and closed a couple times.

“If you want to leave, you can leave,” Jackie continued. “You don’t have to stick it out. If you’re staying because you want to know more about Sam, then we’ll tell you later. But...I just want to know. Are you just having a bad day and taking it out on him? Because right now it looks like you’re actively trying to make him uncomfortable—”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” Anti blurted out.

Jackie blinked, then put his hands on his hips. “Anti.”

“Don’t use your Dad Voice on me, it’s not like—I could’ve said that better.” Anti took a deep breath, switching his knife to his other hand, where he continued to flip it open and closed. “It’s—he’s too nice. It’s...weird. Like—okay, you mentioned when we met Jackson and Marvin for the first time. You know how they reacted to my asshole comments? Marvin called me out on it, and Jackson...well, Jameson’s a really nice guy, but he at least looked surprised when I said something like that. You know, uh...what’s the phrase? Caught off guard. Taken aback. But Jack is just...nice. It’s freaky.”

“Maybe Sam just told him what to expect,” Jackie suggested.

“There’s a fuckton of difference between hearing something and experiencing something,” Anti pointed out. “I keep pushing him to get a normal reaction, and by now he should’ve blinked a couple times, o-or given me a weird glance, but he hasn’t, and it’s freaky. It’s—” He ran his free hand through his hair. “Is he trying to get me to like him? Why? Nobody’s that nice without wanting something from you.”

Jackie paused. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Well I mean...I’d say that I was ‘that nice’ to you when I kept showing up at your room in the hospital despite you actively telling me to fuck off.”

“I—that was different,” Anti insisted. “You’re a doctor, it makes sense for you to check on a patient.”

“I don’t think it was that different. I mean, I didn’t have to keep showing up, but I did.” Jackie walked up to Anti’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed a bit, but when Jackie started to withdraw, he reached up and put his hand on top of his. “And Anti, I never wanted anything from you. I still don’t.”

Anti took another deep breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. “I—it’s just—I can’t—” He gave up, frustrated that he couldn’t put it into words.

“Do you want to leave?” Jackie asked.

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Are you good with Jack?”

“I won’t be as dickish,” Anti said carefully. “I’ll maintain my usual level of dickishness.”

Jackie laughed. “That’s fine. You ready to go back?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon then.” Jackie smiled, and led Anti back to join the others.

———————

“Daaaad! Someone’s at the door!”

Anti turned around at the sound of Will’s voice. “I’ll be right there!” he called, quickly pausing the game he was playing and all the recording software. Who could that be? He checked his phone real quick, but didn’t see any messages from the others saying they were coming over. Then again, last time someone dropped by unexpectedly it was Marvin, mind-controlled by Distorter. He should probably answer. So he stood up and left his recording room.

Will was sitting at the kitchenette counter, swinging his legs while he munched on a bowl of grapes from the fridge. His plushie rabbit Brian was sitting on the stool next to him. The doorbell rang, and he helpfully pointed at it. “I got it, bud, don’t worry,” Anti said as he passed him.

He opened the door. And immediately wished he’d thought to look through the peephole first. Jack was standing outside, looking pretty much the same as he had a couple days ago when they met him for lunch. “Hi,” he waved. “Sorry for dropping in all of a sudden, but—”

“How’d you get this address?” Anti interrupted.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You gave it to me. I walked you here the first time we met. In the park, remember? I mean, I didn’t walk up here, but I asked a couple of your neighbors and—”

Anti groaned. “Those stupid—it’s my address, don’t give it away—what if someone wanted to kill me or something, dumbest move ever...” His complaints faded into angry muttering.

“They probably didn’t mean anything by it,” Jack said. “Anyway, I was—”

“Dad, who is it?” Will got off his stool, grabbing Brian as he did, and walked over to the door.

“Oh, uhhhhh...” Anti looked down at Will, now standing next to him, then back up at Jack. “This is...Jack. He’s...a new...friend.”

“You don’t make friends, Dad,” Will said.

“Well, friends make me, so it’s the same thing, really.”

Jack looked a bit shocked at first, but he quickly got over it. “Oh, so you’re Anti’s son? I should’ve known. Sam did say he had one. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will,” Will said, waving. “Do you want to come inside?”

“If your dad’ll let me.”

“I—” Anti sighed. “Yeah, step inside.”

“Thank you.” Jack didn’t walk too far into the apartment, hovering near the doorway as he looked around. “So this is your place?” For a moment, Sam peeked out from a gap in the zipper of his backpack, then they disappeared again. And Jack nodded, as if responding to someone. “Yeah, I see.”

“Sooo...why are you here?” Anti asked, closing the door.

“Oh, I wanted to see if you wanted to go somewhere,” Jack explained.

Anti fought the urge to glare at him suspiciously. “Why?”

Jack shrugged. “I just kinda felt like we got off on the wrong foot. Sam’s told me a lot about you, but I want to get to know you myself.”

Anti paused. “Is this a date? Because I don’t do romance, or...” He glanced at Will. “...the other stuff, either.”

“No, no no,” Jack hurried to say. “That’s cool, but I’m not into guys.”

“Oh good, we needed a token straight in the group.” Jack looked a bit surprised at that, and Anti just had to laugh. “Yeah, bet you weren’t expecting that.”

Jack laughed a little, too. “I mean, no. Goes to show how open-minded I should be. Anyway, not a date. Just sort of a friendly, let’s-talk-to-each-other thing.”

“Right.” That didn’t sound any more appealing. “Look, I was actually in the middle of work—”

“You should take a break, Dad,” Will interrupted. “You’ve been at the computer all day, and Mrs. Benson says you should limit your screen time.”

“I...well, she’s right,” Anti said carefully. “But this is for work.”

“You pause things all the time,” Will insisted. “Go have fun.”

Anti huffed. “I thought I was the parent here.” There was a bit of a smile on his face, though. “But speaking of that, I can’t just leave you on your own. And I can’t find a babysitter at the last minute like this.”

“I’m almost ten, Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“I...Will, honestly?” Anti bent over and whispered loudly. “It’s more for me than anything. I’d be worried, especially with what just happened.”

“Hmm.” Will’s face scrunched up as he thought up a solution to this problem. “Oh! You two can take me to Michelle’s house, first. There’s a bus stop close by!”

“I—Michelle’s ren might be busy, Will.”

“Then you should text them first.”

Jack smiled to himself. “Sounds like the kid’s got all the possible problems covered.”

Anti didn’t hold back on glaring at him this time. But, unfortunately, he was right. At this point, he couldn’t think of any more excuses to give to placate Will and his insistence that his dad have friends. “I wish you weren’t so smart sometimes, kid,” he muttered, straightening. “Alright, Highlighter Hair. Give me a minute to get everything ready then I guess I’ll go—where are we going?”

Jack paused. “Uhhh...well honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You know what? I’m not that familiar with the city, anyway, where do you want to go?”

Oh. Anti hadn’t been expecting that. He blinked, considering the options. They’d just gone out for food, so he didn’t want to do that. A movie might be good, it would keep conversation from happening, but it also meant at least two hours out with Jack, and nothing good was playing, anyway. “We can just walk around,” he finally decided. “That’s fine.”

“Alright. Hey, you can show me some of the local sights!”

“Yeah. Sure. Now sit down while I wrap all my work stuff up.” Anti pointed at the sofa, and Jack quickly sat down, waiting patiently. He gave him one last look, then disappeared back into the recording room to shut everything down.

While in there, his eyes landed on the glass shelf where he kept his knife collection. After a moment’s hesitation, he unlocked the case and grabbed one, entirely black with a four-inch drop point blade. It came with a matching black sheathe, and he slipped the blade inside it, quickly grabbing his jacket with the largest pockets and putting the whole thing in the left pocket. Just in case. Of what, he wasn’t sure. But just in case.

———————

After taking the bus to Rama and Michelle’s house and dropping off Will, they ended up going to the shops. Not the more popular shopping district of the city, but the area on the west side that had a bunch of small shops in rows. Bookstores and art-and-crafts places, mostly, but there were also music shops, a video rental place, and a survival-type store that sold equipment like climbing ropes and sleeping bags. Jack seemed interested, and asked questions about what the shops were like, if Anti liked them. But eventually, the conversation topic turned to more personal matters.

“So, uh, Anti,” Jack said slowly, zipping up his jacket as a gust of wind made the chilly day even colder. “What do you like to do?”

Anti shrugged. “Hang out with the others. Do stuff with Will. Play video games. Normal shit.”

“Really? What’s your favorite game?”

“I like horror.”

“Oh I’ve played some horror before. Like what?”

Anti sighed. Jack’s questions were persistent. “There’s this game that came out like a year and a half ago that I like. It’s called Doki Doki Literature Club.”

Jack laughed a bit. “That’s a horror game?”

“Don’t fucking judge it by the title, okay?” Anti snapped. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I played it on request, and got gut-punched by what happens in the story.”

“Hey, I wasn’t saying anything!” Jack raised his hands.

“You laughed.”

“Well you got to admit, it sounds a bit out there. But I guess it’s one of those ‘subvert your expectations’ types.”

“Exactly.” Anti nodded. And to change the subject, he asked, “What’s your favorite game, then?”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “Have you ever heard of Shadow of the Colossus?”

“No.”

“Oh, dude. It’s so cool! It’s on the PlayStation, and you play as this guy called Wander trying to defeat these creatures called the Colossuses—Colossi? I can never remember. Anyway, you have to find each one and then...”

Anti let Jack ramble on for a while, occasionally nodding or asking a question to get him to keep going. The streets were pretty empty; it was late November and chilly, nobody wanted to be out walking. But there were quite a few cars driving past. Though after a while they turned onto a dead end, the street ending in a square paved with red bricks and lined with a few benches, a couple concrete planters holding thin, leafless trees. Jack headed over to one of the benches and sat down. Anti followed, and after a moment, sat down on the opposite end, leaving about two feet of space in between them.

“So did you never have a PlayStation or something?” Jack finally asked. “Oh, PlayStation 2, I should say. Cause lord knows there are a million of them now.”

“There’s just four,” Anti said, rolling his eyes. “And no. No Xbox, either, before you ask. Or SNES.”

“Man. That must’ve sucked. Were they not big on video games in—uh, where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

Jack let out a huff of laughter. “Well no shit, I mean what county are you from?”

“Which one are you from?”

“Offaly.”

“Oh, of fucking course you are,” Anti muttered. “I should’ve guessed you were a middle-of-nowhere type by your accent.”

“Hey, yours doesn’t sound that much different!” Jack said defensively. “I bet you’re also a middle-of-nowhere type. Where is it? Longford? Westmeath?”

Anti gave up. “The first one, actually.”

“Knew it!” Jack said triumphantly. Then he paused. His expression shifted as a thought occurred to him. “Hey, did you—this is a fucking wild question, and you don’t have to answer it, but...did you happen to know a Ciara McLoughlin?”

Anti suddenly stiffened. He’d been avoiding looking directly at Jack this whole time, but his head snapped over at him. “What was that name?”

“Ciara McLoughlin, middle name Lily, I think. It’s a bit out there, but—”

Before Jack could even finish that question, Anti lunged. He knocked both of them off the bench, and they landed on the ground with a single solid thump! as Anti pinned Jack. A faint green glow rolled out of the gap in Jack’s backpack zipper, but Anti didn’t care. He’d reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife he’d packed—still in its sheath, but a threatening display nonetheless. “Who fucking sent you?” he hissed.

“Wh-what?!” Jack was completely shocked, surprised by the reaction and a little scared of the covered blade Anti was poking into his chest.

“Who sent you!?” Anti repeated, snarling. “It was her, wasn’t it?! This is what you wanted, this is why you’ve been so weirdly fucking nice! How’d you find me?!”

“What are you talking about?!” The shock was fading into confusion, mixed with a healthy dose of nerves.

“You! You you you youuuu...youuuuu...” Anti shook his head. “You can’t fucking pretend anymore. How did you find me?! What does she want?! And why does she care now, of all times?!”

“Anti, please, calm down,” Jack pleaded, trying to keep his voice gentle. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about! I—what do you mean ‘she’? Do you mean Ciara?”

“Of course I do, who else would I mean?!” Anti demanded, pressing the sheathed blade a bit further. “And you need to stop being all confused like this, the jig is up, I knew it, I knew you weren’t just that friendly, it’s impossible, nobody’s like that, everyone needs something and I don’t know if it’s for your own sake or you’re doing this for her, but I know, I know now, I know why you’re like this, is it information? Is that what you want? Or are you going to try to convince me to go back? Either way, fuck you, you’re not getting either of those.”

Jack just gaped at Anti as he ranted, not moving. Then, out of nowhere, a bright green light flew up towards Anti’s eyes. Gasping, he leaned back, not dropping the knife but pulling it away from Jack long enough for him to sit up and scramble back. Sam bumped against Anti’s forehead, slapping his face with their nerve-tail as if to say ‘get a hold of yourself!’

“Fucking hell, dude,” Jack said, a bit out of breath. He ran his hand over the spot where the knife had been poking him, but luckily he just found a little imprint, no blood. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Anti pushed Sam away from his face and gave Jack a closer look. “You...really don’t know what...what I’m talking about?” he asked haltingly.

“No!” Jack shook his head furiously. “But I can figure it out! You clearly did know Ciara, and you clearly have some sort of issue with her. Did she do something to you?”

Anti didn’t answer. He looked down at the knife in his hand—oh god, if he hadn’t brought the sheath, he’d have—his hand opened and let the knife clatter to the bricked ground as he covered his eyes with his hands. His pulse was racing, loud enough for him to feel in his neck. God damn it. He had to get himself under control. Just...breathe. Take a moment to just focus on breathing.

“Sorry,” Jack repeated, softer this time. “I-I didn’t know it would...be like that.”

“Course you didn’t,” Anti muttered, lowering his hands and looking around. It was lucky nobody had seen that.

“No, really, I-I didn’t,” Jack insisted. “I...When you said you were from Longford, I remembered that she lived there, so I wondered if you knew about her.”

“How do you know her?” Anti rebutted.

“She was my aunt,” Jack explained, taking off his glasses to make sure they weren’t damaged. “And I didn’t really know her, she never visited the family or anything. But. Yeah. My dad’s sister.”

“Oh.” Anti fell silent for a moment. He didn’t know that Ciara had a brother. A brother with kids. How was it possible that she’d never mentioned them?! That was a massive thing to never—in all that time—Anti groaned and rubbed his head. God, this hurt him, almost physically. If he’d known that—if he’d just—well, the past was dead. He’d killed it. So there was no use thinking about what might have been. But something sounded...off. In the way Jack talked about her. “What do you mean, she ‘was’ your aunt?”

“Well.” Jack hesitated for a moment, then said, quite bluntly, “She’s dead, actually.”

“...oh.” Anti waited for a reaction to rise up within him. Some sort of emotion, good or bad. But he felt...empty. Though maybe that made sense. “When?”

“When I was like...seventeen or something. Over ten years ago now. She got hit by a car.” Jack paused again, but Anti didn’t say anything more. So he stood up, slowly, and Sam flew around him. “I’m fine, Sam, don’t worry. No, nothing. Really.” Sam, worried, curled up in their usual spot on his shoulder.

“...Sorry,” Anti mumbled. “About the whole...thing. With the knife. I didn’t—I didn’t actually want to hurt you.”

Jack nodded. “Just don’t do it again.” He offered a hand, and after a moment, Anti took it, letting Jack pull him up. “Hey, uh...you’re probably not gonna answer this, but...are you okay with...telling me how you knew her?”

“No.” Anti shut down the notion immediately. He wasn’t about to share that whole mess with basically a stranger, when his close friends only knew the barest of details.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Jack took a step back, giving Anti some space. “Um...can I tell you something? I think you picked up on this, anyway, but...I’m not just a drummer. I do do that, but it’s to help pay expenses and stuff, you know?”

Anti’s shoulders raised. “What are you, a cop?”

“No! God no, I couldn’t do that,” Jack hurried to say. He took a deep breath, then continued. “There’s...not really a name for it, I think. But Sam and I travel around and...we help people. Not like a vigilante or anything, I hear you guys have one in this city? We don’t do stuff like that. I mean more...you know, mentally.”

“You’re a therapist?” Anti asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really.” Jack shook his head. “Though I guess I could be. I’d just need to go back to school and shit. I just...support people. Kinda encourage them. If any of this makes sense. Like, i-if you’re having a hard time and your house is messy, but you can’t find the energy to clean, I can do that for you. Or if you need to talk to someone to get something off your chest. Again, I’m not a therapist, but I can listen and give advice.”

Anti suddenly laughed. “You’re a life coach?! Oh my god, Highlighter Hair. You do not look the part.”

“That’s still not—” Jack sighed. “Okay, look. Sam’s been staying with you guys for a while, right? They have this ability, this...this feeling they get, sometimes, that they need to do something. What happens is they can sort of tell where we’re needed next, but a few weeks ago, they got this feeling, and they could tell they needed to go alone. So, they headed here. And...they found you guys. And they could tell something was immediately wrong. Your...your kids went missing, right?” Jack asked that last part slowly, cautiously.

“...yeah,” Anti muttered.

“Right. And you were all going through it.” Jack glanced down at Sam. “And if they’d told me where they were going, I could’ve been here to help with that, but apparently they suddenly needed to leave right then in the middle of the night.” Sam swished their tail. Somehow, they looked guilty.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Anti sighed. Actually, he probably understood more than Jack or Sam knew. He’d run into Sam the night of the kids’ disappearance, the night when he’d...had a breakdown. Just like he used to, years ago. And just like years ago, he might’ve continued on those random wanderings, out of his mind, if Sam hadn’t showed up and kept breaking up the routine. They’d probably saved him, in a way. Just like Jackie had, years ago, when he kept showing up in the hospital room of a nobody who didn’t care for him. “So...the real reason you guys are here is to fix us.”

“Don’t use that word,” Jack said firmly. “Nobody in your group is broken, you just need a little bit of help.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“I’m serious, I—” Jack sighed.

“Right. Just like you don’t want anything from us. How much are you offering for this?”

“I don’t charge for this,” Jack said. “We just...do it. Because some people need it.” He folded his arms. “Like you, Mr. I’ll-Threaten-You-With-A-Knife-For-Mentioning-This-Lady.”

“I said sorry,” Anti insisted.

“Are you sure you should be carrying knives around if that’s how you’ll react?”

“I—shut the fuck, up, I—I need to.” Anti realized his hands were shaking, so he folded his arms as well. “And usually, that doesn’t happen. I’ve just been—”

“A bit stressed lately?” Jack prompted.

Anti closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply for a long, long time. Then he let out his breath, equally slowly. “Does the rest of the group know about your life coaching?”

“It’s not life—I was going to explain it next time I saw them,” Jack said.

“Cool. Go see them now, there’s enough time left in the day for that. And if they still like you after that, then I guess you can hang around.” Of course they’d still like him after knowing that. It was the kind of people they were. Marvin and Schneep might be a bit upset that Jack didn’t tell them immediately, but they’d get over it. JJ would insist on including Jack in more group activities. Maybe Jackie would, too. Actually, he could see the two of them having a lot in common. Fitting that their names were almost the same, then.

Jack smiled widely. “Great! Glad to hear that.”

“Hear what? I’m telling you that my tolerance of your presence depends on what the others think.”

“Yeah, that’s great! I mean, c’mon, you haven’t exactly been welcoming. Or hiding the fact that you weren’t welcoming. So that’s a step up.”

Well he had a point there. Anti bent over and picked up his knife from where it had landed, slowly slipping it back into his pocket and buttoning it closed. He turned to leave. “Well, I’ll be going now. You can find a bus stop by yourself.”

“Sure,” Jack nodded. “I’ll be seeing you, then?”

Anti paused. Then he turned back. “And another thing. Don’t fucking analyze me without me saying. Believe it or not, I actually minored in psych, so I don’t have any fucking patience for armchair psychology from someone who probably only did a few searches on the Internet and is armed with just some sort of—of great attitude and a nosy want to help people.”

“I don’t do that stuff, Anti,” Jack reasserted. “But...don’t worry. If you don’t want help, I won’t offer. Unless it looks...bad.”

That sounded like it was as good a promise as he was going to get. Anti turned back around and started walking back down the street they’d come from. Jack called “Bye!” after him, and he raised a hand in response.

A few streets later, he found a bus stop for a line that he didn’t think Jack would take, and sat down to wait. And the moment he did, everything that just happened started bombarding his thoughts. Sam’s friend was some sort of...travelling...mental...helper. Who showed up here because he wanted to help the group with their problems. Sure. That made sense. And this guy was also her nephew. Who he didn’t know even existed, despite all the reasons he should have known. “God...fuck,” he muttered, looking up into the sky.

If Jack was going to be so present in their lives, how long would it take him to figure out...everything? Everything about Anti? The very thought raised a sense of panic in his chest.

No, Jack wouldn’t know. He’d make sure of it.

Well, Anti had to acknowledge one thing. Jackie was right; this new guy hadn’t wanted anything from them. He wanted to give something to them. That thing being some sort of help. That was...unexpected. In Anti’s experience, people didn’t offer aid for nothing in return. Or at least, they rarely did, as Jackie had reminded him the other day.

As the bus approached in the distance, Anti stood up, making sure the driver could see him. While getting on, he reflected that there was one thing he could count on: they’d be seeing a lot more of Jack in the future.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #antisepticeye #programmer anti #switch!jack and sam #all the boys show up but those two are the most important so im sticking to them #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Note

PORNSTAR!HARRY WITH THE NEW BEARD (me? wet)

“What d’you think, then?”

Harry scratches absentmindedly at the thick stubble covering the lower half of his face, the coarse, light brown hairs heavily dusting his upper lip and haloing around his mouth and chin.

His eyebrows perk up at Y/N expectantly, awaiting her response as he sits across from her in the break room, laid out on the sofa with his head mounted against the elbowrest. His arms tighten around the maroon velvet cushion he’s hugging to his chest, a certain anxiousness jittering in his veins. He doesn’t know why her opinion matters to him or why the suspense is tearing his stomach to shreds, but it does and he can’t stop it and it’s fucking annoying, to say the least.

In his line of work, Harry had learned not to make severe emotional attachments to his partners. A platonic relationship is fine— he tended to naturally attract people without much effort and he thrives in social settings; friendships were bound to form— and a casual “friends with benefits” type of arrangement isn’t off the table, either. However, the industry had hardened him into being the kind of person who doesn’t care what others think of him. He never put much thought into people’s mundane concerns towards him (like whether his new beard was attractive or not) unless he had started to develop deeper connections, which then leads to him harvesting feelings, which in turn causes him to act like a complete lovesick moron and usually topples him into an actual solid dating situation. And if there’s anything Harry has painstakingly learned through multiple trials and errors is that being an adult entertainer while simultaneously engaging in a serious relationship never mixes well.

Yet here he is, waiting for their assigned filming room to be ready so they can go in and shoot a scene for a new video. Here he is, playing with a loose seam thread on the couch pillow, tugging at it nervously to give himself something to focus on other than the silence suffocating the room— a silence he himself had instilled by asking such a random, pointed question. Here he is, with sparks firing off in the pit of his tummy as the leg hanging off the side of the sofa bounces restlessly on his heel, toes curling in his pastel yellow Vans. He hasn’t felt this like this in so long he thinks he might vomit right onto the coffee table.

Y/N is extended across the loveseat opposite his, her legs draped over the armrest, knees bent and feet swaying back and forth distractedly. Her hands are cradled against her stomach, fingers sifted together as she taps at her knuckles, head snuggled into a throw pillow identical to his.

She had snapped her head to the side at his sudden question, surprised by the low thrum of his voice reaching across the still air since she thought he had fallen into a nap.

She’d run into him earlier as he had hurried inside the building, Nike gym bag slung over his shoulder and thudding against his hip as he made a beeline for his dressing room, itching for a shower. She figured that after exerting himself with a heavy workout and washing away the tension in his muscles with warm water, he’d probably want to get some sleep in before their shoot in order he to be at the top of his game. But evidently, Harry is wide awake, staring at her over the glass table between their makeshift beds, eyebrows raised in curiosity at her thoughts on the facial hair he’s sporting.

Y/N stares at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in this never before seen appearance.

She’d been working for this company for just over two months now and she had never seen Harry with more than just a light bit of stubble. One can imagine her shock when he had waltzed in with a decently thick bushel covering half his face. She almost didn’t recognize him, being so used to his clean, boyish face rather than a hairy, full-fledged man. She hadn’t quite processed the change since their fleeting interaction prior to his bath, but apparently her take on it interested him and for some unknown reason, that notion makes her cheeks sizzle.

The response she blurts out makes her wish she could implode on command.

“You kinda look like Paul Bunyan.”

Harry blinks at her blankly exactly three times, shifting upwards higher against the armrest and cocking his head to the side in awed confusion. “Pardon?”

Y/N parts her lips to speak but her brain can’t seem to find a way to justify the idiotic, nerve-induced comment she’d just made. After a moment of charged silence, she splutters out a semi-acceptable explanation.

“Y’know, Paul Bunyan. The lumberjack guy? With the blue ox?”

Harry continues to stare at her, emerald irises twinkling with a mystified haze and eyebrows scrunched down in bewilderment.

She swallows quickly, feeling heat crawl up the sides of her neck. “He’s this folklore legend that they use to tell us about back in grade school. Disney even made a cute little short film about him.”

He blinks at her again, not sure how to react to her response since he has no fucking clue what she’s going on about. All he knows is that he wants to calm the ragging in his belly and possibly ebb some type of compliment out of her to tide over the craving for her approval.

He takes a wild stab and hopes for the best.

“So he’s a lumberjack, yeah? That must mean he was ripped. Was he hot?”

Y/N bursts into a round of easy laughter, feeling all the tension wash out of her in a huge wave of relief. Leave it to Harry to be a total dolt at the perfect time.

“Yeah, he was, actually. I used to have a crush on him, despite the fact that he was a literal cartoon.”

Harry’s lips break into a cheeky, satisfied grin, his dimples pinching into place. He sits forward, dropping the couch cushion into his lap and leaning back onto the palms of his hands, head lulling on his shoulder as one of his knees bends upwards to rest his heel at the edge of the sofa. He gives his brows a cocky shrug, well aware of how her gaze momentarily flickers to ogle at his widely parted thighs. He’d made the right call to wear his Adidas joggers, the thin polyester material obviously strained by what resides between his legs.

“Guess that means you have a crush on me now, too. By association.”

Y/N’s glazed eyes dart back up to his face and she tries to cover up her little escapade by snorting humorously, shaking her head lightly in amusement. “He was a bit taller than you, though. Makes him sexier.”

His voice comes out slathered with fake pained insult. “That’s no fair, I can’t even control that! How tall was he? Bet I could take him.”

She bites into her lower lip, a small playful grin peeking around her teeth at the ensuing banter. “Well, according to the myth, he’s seven feet tall.”

Harry scoffs dismissively, swinging an arm forward and settling his wrist over his bent knee, hand turning palm upwards for emphasis. “I can take him, no problem. A foot is nothing.”

Y/N props her chin onto her shoulder, maintaining her comfortable position stretched out across the couch, her back supported by the armrest. She sucks at her teeth in disagreement, pursing her lips with exaggerated contemplation. “I dunno, H. A foot is more than you think. What are you gonna do, jump on his back?”

He points at her warningly with his index finger, tone adamant. “I just fucking might!”

She releases another fit of bubbly giggles, cupping her tummy instinctively and for some reason that simple, unintentionally adorable action makes Harry’s pulse flutter in his temples.

He remains quiet for a bundle of heartbeats, just admiring the way her entire face glows when she smiles. He loves how bright she is— how lively and tender and easy-going. Her personality always shines through, no matter the instance. Whether it’s at a restaurant with their friend group, or at a get together at someone’s house, or when they’re sitting in the break room having a random, silly chat, or when he's balls-deep inside her with cameras trained on their every movement and there’s people watching every brush of their swollen lips, every caress of their heated skin, and every desperate plead whimpered onto eager tongues — no matter the tone and texture of the situation, she’s always the most blinding factor in the room. She’s just so golden.

“So you really think I can’t take this Bunyan bloke?” Harry inquires with a joking edge, his two front teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth to keep himself from grinning like an enamored fool.

“He’s a pretty big guy.” Y/N quips matter-of-factly, giving her shoulders a gentle shrug.

The edges of his lips twitch into a sly smirk. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty big, too...and you can attest to that.”

Even from across the room, he can see the way her whole body tightens at his lascivious dig. Her fingers halt the tapping on her knuckles and her eyes can’t seem to break free from his coy gaze, air struggling to expand her lungs.

Harry somehow always manages to make her speechless and she wishes he didn’t have that hold over her. They’re friends and coworkers; this influence on her could end in a real mess if she isn’t careful and the gig she has here at the company is too good to risk it. The porn industry is littered with producers that exploit their workers and women are more susceptible to this abuse than men, but somehow amidst the pile of shitty businesses, she had managed to book a permanent spot at a facility that treats their workers with the respect and dignity they deserve. Harry had been working here way longer than she had— he’d been here before she even knew the company existed. If things went downhill, she would have to be the one to leave.

Technicalities aside, Y/N’s worst fear is ruining her relationship with Harry. He had been the person that had comfortably eased her into the whole world of sexual entertainment and she would forever be thankful to him for making her experience smooth and seamless. They’d developed a decent friendship along the way, their personalities clicking together perfectly from the second they had been introduced, their chemistry practically palpable. Harry had been her partner in almost all of her videos— save a handful she had done with other stars as a way of testing the waters and branching out— and had introduced her to all of the friends she had made here. He’d shot with her for her first ever video in this profession and helped welcome her into something she had been extremely terrified to try. She cherishes him beyond words, which is why the idea of allowing some harmless flirting to grow into something with the potential to end in disaster outright ices her blood.

What she hates the most is that such a simple cocky comment had sent her into a midlife crisis.

She anchors herself back into reality, clearing her throat softly as her lashes flutter. “You’re a moron.”

Harry cracks a self-assured simper, messing with the chunky rings of the hand hanging off his knee. “You’re not denying it, though.”

Y/N huffs offhandedly, finally breaking the intense eye contact he’d pinned onto her, glossy eyes zoning in on tracing the checkered pattern of her worn sneakers. “Your dick is obviously big or else you wouldn’t have a job here.”

The deadpan bluntness behind her tone sends Harry into a round of boyish snickering. “I know, but I just love hearing you say it. Strokes my ego like nothing else.”

Y/N picks at one of the tears of her cosmetically tattered jeans, a strangely contented smile threatening to string across her lips at the idea of him enjoying the way she specifically praises him. “And we both know how much you love having things stroked, now don’t we?”

Harry bites into the inside of his cheek, humming in agreement deep in the back of his throat. He absolutely adores the way she can go toe to toe with his vulgarity. “Touché. Although, if I recall correctly, you never seem to have any complaints about being the one doing it.”

“S’part of the job.”

“I’m pretty sure your kitchen isn’t one of the designated filming rooms.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

Y/N’s jaw clenches as she feels Harry’s delighted condescending stare boring into the side of her face. He swings his arms out from behind him, slumping into the backrest of the couch, flexing forearms settling across the light blue fabric of the vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt stretching over his broad chest. The foot resting on the ground braces itself onto the edge of the coffee table, the one on the couch shifting some, his thighs parting open even wider. She has to resist the urge to look, having to make due with the blurry image registering from her peripheral vision. Even out of focus, he looks incredible.

“D’you know what we’re shooting today?”

The change in topic gifts her the chance to recuperate and regroup; work talk is a sanctuary she is more than happy to inhabit.

Y/N cranes her neck to look over at Harry, refusing the impulse to check him out in his new, much more revealing position, meeting his eyes with an indifferent attitude that hides how buzzed he truly has her. “It’s something for a series you’re doing on your channel, right?”

Harry bobs his head in an easy nod, thumbing over the inside of his right elbow— a mindless mannerism. His lips twitch into a goofy grin. “Wanna know what I named it?”

“Something dumb, probably.”

“How Many Licks Does It Take To Make a Cherry Pop?”

Y/N sighs heavily through her nose. “Expected no less. It’s a bit long, though, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little but the Wow Factor outsells.”

“Whatever you say.” Y/N checks the time on her phone, slipping it back into her rear jean pocket. They’d been sitting here waiting for their call for almost fifteen minutes now. “So from the looks of it, it’s mainly based around eating girls out?”

Harry scratches at the back of his neck casually, playing with the ringlets that curl along the nape of his neck. “Mmhm. Just thirty minutes of me making you cum as many times as I can with my tongue.”

The shells of Y/N’s ears burn. “Sounds like a dream. I’m getting paid just to lay there and I won’t even have to take off all my clothes.”

“Good karma, I suppose.” Harry glances impatiently towards the door of the break room, eager to get started. He doesn’t really know why, but he’s just gained an abrupt hunger to be nose deep between her thighs right this second. “Although, do you think you can pull your shirt up? Y’know how much I love a good view and you just look so fucking good in lace.”

She kinks an eyebrow up in mild shock at his accurate statement, pushing down the way his admiration makes her pulse skip a beat. “How did you know I was wearing lace?”

His tongue sweeps over the front of his teeth teasingly, Cupid’s Bow curving with a hint of perceptive glee. “Because you know it makes my balls ache.”

Y/N’s thighs unintentionally clasp together at his crudeness and she decides to put his insight to the test. “What color am I wearing, then?”

Harry sits forward, interest elating his limbs, forearms flushing against his thighs as he twiddles his thumbs between his separated knees. He takes a second to think it through, tilting his chin up slightly with a confident air. “Pastel peach.”

Her hands slap down against her tummy, the action tainted with disbelieving outrage. “How’d you know?!”

He chews on his bottom lip pensively as if carefully sewing his words together. “Because I complimented you the last time you wore it.”

A rush of white hot energy surges through Y/N’s entire nervous system. “Didn’t think you’d remember since you always compliment everyone.”

Harry shakes his head gently, twisting a metal rose ring around his middle finger. “Always remember you.”

An electrified silence falls between them, zizzing every molecule in the chilled air.

Y/N is well aware of the large number of people Harry’s been with and she had always assumed she would melt into the masses without much of a second thought. But here he was, telling her that she stood out to him enough that he could vividly recall the little odds and ends of flattery he gave her. It probably wasn’t much of anything and he was just being his polite, courteous self, but it made her stomach somersault nonetheless.

Her lips part open as if to speak, but her vocal chords can’t seem to find the pitch of her voice. She just lays there with her mouth agape for a second or so, fishing for a response that her brain has yet to conjure. Harry waits in anticipation, wanting to know her thoughts on small but meaningful confession.

Y/N is saved by a collection of swift hard knocks to the door of the room.

The knob turns and the door cracks open, a familiar face peeking in, bare chest covered in a sheen of short, disheveled hair and a complimentary company robe. Niall— a mutual friend and fellow entertainer— throws up a relaxed wave, icy blue eyes lighting up with the effortless jolliness he’s so well known for.

His voice filters through the heavy atmosphere, his thick Irish accent cutting the tension like a knife. “Oi, Jeff told me to come get you. Room’s set up.”

Harry licks over his lips absently, keeping his muted olive irises glued to Y/N for an extra heartbeat before breaking away, forcing an easy smile for Niall’s sake and matching it with banter. “Couldn’t come get us himself? Lazy prick.”

The sky-eyed young man shrugs his shoulders sloppily, his exorbitant laughter bouncing off the walls. “Was headed for my dressing room to clean up and you guys happened to be a pit stop on the way so it wasn’t much trouble.”

Harry pushes himself onto his feet, stretching out his back and twisting his torso from side to side. “S’about time, too. Been sitting here so long I thought my bones were gonna cement.”

Niall whistles sympathetically. “That’d be real shit for business.”

The British boy sputters into his next sentence with a flurry of giggles. “Fuck off.”

Y/N speaks up for the first time since before Niall burst in. “Jeff would basically lose all his income. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘World renowned adult entertainer Harry Styles hospitalized, leaving mother company in shambles!’”

“A right Shakespearean tragedy, that is.” Their blonde friend cackles, the suspicious bite marks on his lower lip tinting darker as his skin stretches.

“Lucky for me, I already have experience with Shakespearean tragedies.” Harry quips proudly, walking towards the exit and standing beside Niall with his arms crossed over his stomach nonchalantly.

The fellow pornstar scowls jestingly, reaching forward and tugging at the corner of Harry’s mustache. “Romeo and Juliets: The Four-Crossed Lovers doesn’t count, Obi-Wan.”

“Whatever.” Harry snaps in return, slapping Niall’s fingers out of his facial hair and smothering him with the palm of his hand, shoving the boy out the door. “Go clean the jizz off yourself.”

“Go clean the jizz off yourself.” The shorter man mimics mockingly, backing away from the door with both of his middle fingers prevalent.

Once Niall’s gone, Harry glimpses back at Y/N over his shoulder, coughing awkwardly. “So I guess I’ll see you in there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She gives him a timid, watery smile, barely nodding her head.

“Alright. Show time, Peach Lace.”

The joking nickname eases the pressure of the situation to a bearable level. She repeats his phrase in agreement, shrugging her brows as cool and collected as her churning tummy will allow. “Show time.”

Harry’s messy quiff of curls disappears down the corridor that leads to their designated room and Y/N can properly gulp down air for the first time since he asked her what she thought about his beard.

It’s then that she realizes she never really answered his question directly, but she gets the feeling that he knows where her opinion lies.

#pornstar!harry #drabble

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gascon-en-exil · 3 years

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Who Can Say if I've Been Changed For the Better?: Ferdibert Does Wicked

This concept has been a bit in building. It started from a much-loved cover by Hubert and Ferdinand’s VAs inspired by their support line and the broad observation that these two are a musicals couple who absolutely would sing their feelings in all manner of theatrical AUs. It continued through my later observation that there’s ample material to carry that idea even further, albeit with a shift outside of Crimson Flower for a better tonal match. Still, I’m not quite sure what to call this project; it’s not really a headcanon nor is it fanfic by any means. I’ve written a handful of longform character/narrative explorations before, although when it comes to FE I’ve previously been inspired to do so only for Jugdral characters. That setting is somehow both underdeveloped and deceptively dense - and I suppose in a way you could say the same of Three Houses as well, insofar as it’s been incredibly popular for fan content of all sorts.

Regardless of what this post is in terms of my fandom output, the following isn’t exactly a Wicked AU as such. Rather, it’s how I would envision a hypothetical blend of the non-CF routes of FE16 centering around the Eagles trio and set to the structure and songs of the musical as organically as possible. There are no 1:1 analogues with characters and plotlines from Wicked, because few if any would exist without a lot of tweaking; to use the VA cover example, Ferdinand might be a decent proxy for G(a)linda, but the mere presence of Edelgard substantially complicates Hubert’s claim to the Elphaba role. The similarities only unravel further from there, but I did my best.

Writing this out gave me the opportunity to play around with Edelgard’s character as a way of addressing what I and many others in my circle have long considered to be some of the major problems with her canon presentation. For Ferdibert meanwhile I got to make use of my headcanons for how their relationship would develop outside of their support line, in a way that mostly preserves Hubert’s delightful evil wickedness. Add some ruminations on how one would splice together the non-CF routes in a dramatically satisfying fashion, some snark directed at the non-character of Byleth, and a bit of background Dimidue/Lions OT5 for spice and that just about sums it up. Enjoy this…whatever this is.

Act I

“No One Mourns the Wicked”

The show opens on the citizens of Adrestia celebrating the death of their emperor and the end of her bloody war. Ferdinand rides in, resplendent on his steed, and is hailed as the new Duke Aegir as he relates to the crowd the news of Edelgard’s death at the hands of the combined army of liberators. The “Are people born wicked?” flashback sequence is replaced with a summary mostly in pantomime of Edelgard’s backstory: the Insurrection, her being taken to Faerghus and then returning, and then being experimented on by the Agarthans before agreeing to work with them. Notably Hubert is not named or referenced anywhere in this song, appearing only as a boy at Edelgard’s side at appropriate times during the flashback.

“Dear Old Shiz”

Someone in the crowd finally brings up Hubert, the emperor’s vile and murderous minister, and accuses Ferdinand of having been his friend. With Ferdinand even more flustered than Glinda since his “It depends on what you mean by friend” definitely carries sexual undertones, so begins the flashback to Part 1. There’s an equivalent intro of Garreg Mach, so one may feel free to insert any headcanons for school songs here. The following dialogue scene establishes the student body in general and the dynamic of the Eagles trio in particular: Ferdinand pompous and eager to one-up Edelgard at any opportunity, and Edelgard and Hubert cold and dismissive toward his antics and just about everyone else for that matter. Edelgard is instantly enamored of the quiet new professor, of course. Because the room assignment conflict doesn’t make a lot of sense with the monastery’s setup, instead Ferdinand is incensed that Edelgard is chosen as the Eagles’ house leader over him even though it’s been ages since a Hresvelg has attended. Neither Nessarose nor Morrible has an exact equivalent (although Seteth can act in Morrible’s role as the academy’s main authority figure), so the segue into the next song ends there.

“The Wizard and I”

Now alone together, Edelgard and Hubert have a brief dialogue outlining their villainous plans for the school year. This establishes Hubert’s hypercompetency but also how detached and professional Edelgard is around him. Then comes the song, now “My Lady and I,” which serves as Hubert’s character introduction. In tones more sinister than Elphaba ever reaches - you know he’d have fun with “When people see me they will scream” - he outlines his history with his lady, that he delights in serving her because she validates his work ethic and gives him an outlet for his ruthlessness and cruelty. Where Elphaba fantasizes about the Wizard removing her green skin, Hubert instead goes full Nice Guy, believing that once he’s given Edelgard her continental empire and crushed all her enemies she’ll be so grateful that of course she’ll put out for him.

“What Is This Feeling?”

You could rip the tone of this one directly from the Ferdibert C support and change nothing - homoerotic subtext included. I like the thought of Hubert replacing Elphaba’s deadpan one-word summation of Galinda with a mocking imitation of Ferdinand's most memetic line: "He is Ferdinand von Aegir!". The chorus can be made up of any number of other students excluding Edelgard, who’d happily agree that Hubert is ugly, creepy, and downright unpleasant.

“Something Bad”

The content of this song and surrounding scenes would have to be completely altered, but they work as a necessary reminder that the plot of Part 1 is still going on in the background of all the school drama. Seteth runs through the major events up to Chapter 9 of the game, including the bandit threat, Flayn’s kidnapping, and the experiments on the Remire villagers. The audience/accompaniment for this exposition dump ought to be Dimitri and Claude with Byleth as a silent observer (more on them later), with Edelgard brushing off the news and eventually being the one to shut down the song as Morrible does. There could be some small side character moments in here as well particularly involving the Lions and Deer since they get so little focus in this story.

“Dancing Through Life”

Speaking of which, this was an awkward sequence to place. It matches up chronologically with the ball in Chapter 9 and the main part, Fiyero’s, is a dead ringer for Sylvain and his flirty, hedonistic nihilism (“Nothing matters / but knowing nothing matters!”), but it’s hard to tie into what’s going on with the Eagles trio particularly with the Ferdibert timeframe preserved, i.e. unlike Elphaba and Galinda they don’t become closer until after the timeskip.

As such I see this song as an opportunity for little vignettes with the other students: Dimitri angry over how Dedue’s talked about and hoping they can share a dance (fitting contrast with the coldness of Edelbert), Felix prickly between Dimitri’s recent outbursts and Sylvain’s showboating, Claude hinting toward the bigger picture with Hilda flitting between her excitement over the dance and knowing more than she's letting on, Dorothea casually taking note of Edelgard’s fascination with Byleth (see just below), Bernadetta as a wallflower who doesn’t want to be disturbed (a setup for Act II), etc. Thanks to one of the Forging Bonds events in Heroes I had the thought that the "You/we deserve each other" through line that later gets attached to Nessarose can become one for Dimitri's relationships, with Felix initially throwing it out at him and Dedue and the two of them then turning "We deserve each other" into a romantic line...and then an ironic one and finally a triumphant one come Act II, by that point with Felix et al included as well.

I’m not sure that the following scene of Galinda and Elphaba bonding on the dance floor really needs an equivalent, although it could be altered to something Edeleth-related. In any case Ferdinand ought to get a dance scene of some nature, so he can try to show up Edelgard as he brags about in canon.

“Popular”

It would be a travesty to have a musical starring FE16’s cast and not give Dorothea and/or Manuela a solo. This song works quite well for the former, and it doesn’t intrude on the Ferdibert development with the aforementioned timeframe and how the lightly sapphic vibe doesn’t translate well to two guys. Dorothea has taken note of her good friend Edie’s crush on their mysteriously wooden professor, and she senses the opportunity for a makeover. Not as exaggerated as Dorothea trying to make over Hubert, naturally, but I still think this works out well. Also, Galinda’s observation on leaders, “Did they have brains or knowledge? / Don’t make me laugh! They were popular!”, is darkly comedic when said to Edelgard.

“I’m Not That Girl”

This song comes with preceding dialogue scenes for setup, so those first. Edelgard emerges fresh from her makeover (given her general hot for teacher fixation, I’m thinking she’d lean pretty hard on the naughty schoolgirl look) to Byleth silently grieving Jeralt’s death - bad timing there. She’s as callous about it as she is in canon, only now with more clumsy flirting, and while it’s impossible as always to tell if Byleth notices or cares Hubert most certainly does. The scene segues into the Eagles trio together, with Edelgard alluding to the upcoming events in the Sealed Forest and indicating that Hubert should meet up with her later for some more villainous scheming after he’s ditched Ferdinand. Ferdinand, indignant about being left out of the loop as he is in canon, grumpily points out that he was a much more splendid dancer at the ball than Edelgard, makeover or not. To his utter surprise, Hubert acknowledges that this is true before leaving. This leads into the actual song, altered from homoerotic via triangulation of desire to an outright sexual awakening for Ferdinand. He realizes that part of his jealousy toward Edelgard is that he wishes Hubert were devoted to him instead, and tells himself not to get his hopes up because he’s, well, not that girl or even a girl. We shall of course leave aside how anyone could be attracted to someone as repulsive as Hubert; that’s part of the inherent comedy of this pairing.

“One Short Day”

This was the hardest song to place in this whole project. The touristy trip to the Emerald City just doesn’t have an analogue in the story of Three Houses, especially not late in Part 1 when tension is mounting toward the upcoming reveal and war. It took me a while to realize that it works wonderfully as an Edeleth piece: Edelgard invites Byleth to Enbarr for her coronation, but that scene is left offscreen in favor of a light romp through the city that further highlights Edelgard’s crush as well as her emotional immaturity in spite of everything she’s about to do. She just wants to have a fun day out and take in the sights and eat sweets with her beloved teacher, and it’s all very “Edge of Dawn”-esque where Edelgard knows she’s about to do terrible things that will change everything forever and hopes to prolong the time until she has to take that step. Adjustments to the lyrics could even work in reference to that song to make the similarities more apparent. An awkward/funny issue here is that I envision Byleth to be totally silent throughout this musical with no sung or spoken parts, which would naturally make them having a duet impossible and make Edelgard’s fascination with them even weirder. Even their gender should be left ambiguous throughout, somehow never confirmed if it’s m!Byleth or f!Byleth. It would take a lot of reworking, but I can see the value in it.

“A Sentimental Man”

The core of the Wizard’s character is not all that different from Rhea’s. Both were thrust unexpectedly into positions of authority that required them to enact a large-scale deception to maintain their power/safety, and both are driven somewhat by parental feelings. The tone of the Wizard’s songs doesn’t align well with Rhea, but once you cut out the vaudeville and do some rewording I could see this one working as Rhea addressing her child (among other things) Byleth at the Holy Tomb just before the Flame Emperor reveal. Of course the dramatic irony hits differently; Rhea knows who and what Byleth is whereas the Wizard doesn’t learn about Elphaba until the end of the show. Nonetheless this would still establish Rhea’s character and motivations as well as set the stage for the impending betrayal.

“Defying Gravity”

Said betrayal being Byleth’s, who decides to stand by Rhea and condemn Edelgard as the Flame Emperor when she arrives with her army. This is another song in parts that would need to be broken up. Edelgard gets the bulk of it, but the middle sections between Elphaba and Glinda could work as a kind of separated duet with Edelgard and Hubert attempting to convince Byleth and Ferdinand respectively to join them. Because of Byleth’s silence only Ferdinand can reply in song; only he and Edelgard add the “my friend” bit to the end of this segment, to illustrate the unevenness of Edeleth and Ferdibert at this point in the story. Then things turn to full bombast, albeit darker than in Wicked proper. Edelgard does the belting, Hubert’s sinister laughter reverberates below her (would it be too tasteless for him to be leering up her skirt the whole time?), Ferdinand has Glinda’s mournful “I hope you’re happy!” toward Hubert, and through this and the reprise of “No One Mourns the Wicked” the major events of the timeskip are enacted in pantomime or silhouette. Byleth tumbles off a cliff, Rhea is taken captive as is Dimitri but Dedue rushes after him, and Claude makes a tactical retreat. Side note: “And if I’m flying solo, / at least I’m flying free” is classic Edelgard fixating on Byleth and forgetting that Hubert exists.

Act II

“Thank Goodness”

A surprisingly tough one here. The core of the song, pivoting around the double meaning of “I couldn’t be happier,” suits early Part 2 Ferdinand perfectly, second-guessing his choice and, outside of CF, melancholy about fighting his homeland. In terms of plot it’s an easy translation too, with the crowd announcing the terrible things the Empire has been doing to win its war - persecuting believers, abducting civilians and turning them into Demonic beasts, consorting with inhuman shadowy figures who can disguise themselves as ordinary people - and the assembly working as a way to bring together the leads of the three routes: Byleth, Dimitri (who had Dedue always at his side and thus never had a full psychotic break), Claude, and Seteth, with Ferdinand representing the Adrestian resistance. It’s only the wedding announcement that’s hard to pin down, and I toyed with a number of ideas including Dimidue making yet another public declaration of devotion to one another or Ferdinand planning to follow through with his arranged marriage to Bernadetta they have in their supports (which makes more sense in light of the following sequence). In the end though I don’t think the marriage element is strictly necessary, leaving the song as a means of catching up with the cast five years later and seeing them united against Edelgard - with Ferdinand’s private regrets the only sour note.

“Wicked Witch of the East”

More a dialogue than a song, but still important. Bernadetta is arguably the Eagle other than Hubert most comfortable supporting Edelgard, because all Edelgard has to do is put Count Varley under house arrest for Bernadetta to sing the emperor’s praises. I can also see her as the same sort of self-centered, negligent ruler that Nessarose becomes in Wicked, not because of an unrequited attraction but because of her reclusive desire to be left alone. I see this scene playing out as Hubert surprising Bernadetta at her estate, angry about rumors that she may be helping the rebels and/or engaged to Ferdinand if going with that plot point after Edelgard has done her the favor of locking up her father. He’s fully prepared to, ahem, “persuade” Bernadetta, but before he can break out the torture implements Ferdinand arrives asking for her to support the rebels’ cause.

Farcical, sure, but it gets the two of them together again after five years and underscores how strong their UST has become in their time apart, with Hubert too flabbergasted to attack a known enemy and Ferdinand expressing how happy he is to see Hubert again despite everything. Each learns that the other isn’t as happy about his chosen path as he’d hoped, in Hubert’s case because his lady has grown ever more distant from him as the war has dragged on. Bernadetta cuts through the tension by bringing things back to the song (sort of) and blurting out that she knows both sides are marshalling their forces near Gronder Field. Ferdinand is too caught up in the fraught romance angle to do more than leave with this new information, but Hubert recovers enough to condemn Bernadetta for her flagrant misrule (venting by inference his frustrations toward Edelgard in the process) and resolve to set her on fire for her treachery.

“I’m Not That Girl (Reprise)”

The Gronder rematch happened offscreen - and Bernadetta was indeed set on fire - and on the Imperial side Edelgard is left increasingly frustrated over her losses and hurt that Byleth still refuses to listen to her and continues to fight her regime. You may notice that I’ve shuffled around the middle of Act II, necessary at this point in order to better line up with FE16’s story and Hubert and Edelgard’s separate narrative climaxes while also ensuring that those climaxes don’t overlap too much. This song is only a brief reprise, but it’s a significant one; Hubert finally realizes that Edelgard will never love him. It’s also kept gender-neutral, because Byleth.

“As Long as You’re Mine”

That segues naturally into this moment. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr using his unexpected stealth powers (I usually talk about Dedue having them, but Ferdinand shows he’s no slouch in his Mercedes supports) and encounters Hubert. Their UST boils over in a furor of awkward, impassioned sex and also this song. I like the idea of rewording some of Fiyero's lines to incorporate Hubert's acidic snark: “Maybe you’re brainless, / maybe you’re wise.” It’s all very desperate and sensual, ending with Ferdinand taking Elphaba’s line about feeling wicked for the first time - which will have a dark reverberation two songs from now.

“Wonderful”

Again, axe the vaudeville and it’s a solid Rhea song. There’s just the small problem of Rhea being captured at this point in the plot; I thought about moving this number toward the very end at first before reconsidering. While Hubert and Ferdinand are rolling in the sheets, a distraught Edelgard confronts Rhea in prison. Rhea responds to Edelgard’s frustrations with Byleth with her backstory in song, much more somber than the Wizard but, like him, still willing to rehabilitate her estranged listener. The bits of this song about the nature of history are especially relevant to what Edelgard falsely believes about the church and what she views as her own legacy, so I could see this as an interesting character study on what Edelgard actually wanted with her war apart from dragon genocide. There’s a lot that could be done here in the dialogue surrounding those revelations.

“No Good Deed”

However the interrogation of Rhea turns out, Edelgard takes a leaf out of SS Dimitri’s book and visits Byleth alone at the monastery, only to be as harshly rebuffed as is possible to be without the rebuffer speaking. Then comes this song, which was incidentally the one where I realized that Edelgard would need a major role in FE16-does-Wicked even with the Ferdibert focus. Hubert fully embraced his evil wickedness long ago and wouldn’t think twice about being wicked or being perceived as such, but Edelgard is a different matter. Here she breaks down, admitting that her good intentions were largely selfish and that she regrets that her war has cost her any relationship she could have had with Byleth (continuing the joke at his expense, Hubert goes unmentioned when Edelgard names the people she’s lost/failed). It ends with a foreshadowing of her Hegemon form, the sign that she’s abandoned all pretense of goodness and become truly wicked.

“March of the Witch Hunters”

Another ensemble/vignette piece, checking in with the various members of Byleth’s army as they prepare to storm Enbarr. Dimitri hopes for the chance to forgive his stepsister, Claude has big plans for the continent and wants to remove the threat Edelgard poses, Seteth is desperate to find Rhea, and Byleth…is there. As in many of the songs, the self-righteousness of the crowd here rings more sincere and less hypocritical than in Wicked given Three Houses has actual villains, but it still works.

“For Good”

The song that inspired this whole thing, now with many paragraphs of context to set it up instead of only some fluff based on the Ferdibert A+ support. Ferdinand sneaks into Enbarr (again) ahead of the battle, and their second love ballad is more somber as they resign themselves to their fates. As in the VA cover, Hubert refuses to ask forgiveness for anything and Ferdinand is fine with that.

“Finale”

Wicked reduces the final battle from The Wizard of Oz to silhouettes backed by sections of “No One Mourns the Wicked,” and that’s what comes here: Ferdinand and Hubert facing each other in battle, Edelgard becoming the Hegemon before being defeated and then dying as in AM’s final cutscene, and Dimitri taking the throne with Dedue at his side and proclaiming his intention to do all he can to restore both the Kingdom and Duscur - and that his first act as king is to announce that he and Dedue have decided to open their marriage up. This is met with much manly cheering and stripping and someone (Ashe?) saying incredulously that he didn’t even know they were married. End silhouettes.

The final scene with the Wizard and Morrible becomes Claude, Seteth, and Byleth rescuing Rhea. Rhea names Byleth her successor as leader of the church and says that she will go into quiet seclusion and do what she can to correct her mistakes. This all suits Claude just fine, who tells everyone that he’s off to take care of some other business and that Byleth will make a great archbishop - and also they can have the Alliance, no big deal. As with the King of Faerghus’s gay orgies, the King of Almyra’s grand ambitions are too large for this story to do more than allude to.

Next, Ferdibert does a version of the Elphaba/Fiyero scene, with Ferdinand revealing that he had Hubert spared on the condition that he help root out any remaining Agarthans and that he remain under house arrest at the Aegir estate. Ferdinand was also required to assume governance of the Empire, because Dimitri wasn’t getting that dumped on him as well. They can be together, but the general population can’t know that Hubert survived lest Ferdinand’s reputation and basic ethics be compromised…which in a darkly funny hypocritical twist then segues to Ferdinand pontificating before the crowd at the beginning of the show, reprising “For Good” with Hubert until they’re drowned out by “No One Mourns the Wicked.” Thus the story concludes on one of my favorite things about Ferdibert: perhaps even in this non-CF continuity Ferdinand wasn’t changed for the better by falling in love with the Most Wicked Man in Fódlan, but they’ve both been changed….

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Ferdibert #Hubert von Vestra #Ferdinand von Aegir

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sluttyprincessinarizona · 4 years

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Holy shit, alright.

So, first off, hi. I’ve been having a tough few days because of various reasons that I may or may not get into in this post. I’ve been bottling up all of my feelings for too long and writing things down has always been easier for me than talking about them. Basically, this is me spilling a lot of my secrets so I can get them out of my head. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you expected or wanted from me, please skip this if you’re not okay with a post like this.

TW//: Talk of anxiety and depression, mental and emotion manipulation(?), mentions of death and suicide, and just dark shit in general. Proceed with a lot of caution.

Hello. My name is Malachi. That’s not my birth name but it is the name I choose to go by. I am a non-binary African American person that is trying their absolute best in the life I was given. Admittedly, I’m not fairing very well but I continue to try everyday.

I come from a fairly large family. 8 siblings in total, 1 on my moms side and 7 on my dads. My mom and dad never married, they broke up when I was five years old, and when my dad moved out, I stayed living with my mom. My mom is bipolar and manic depressant and my older sister, my moms daughter, was a spoiled brat until I was born. From very early on, my sister would constantly tell me that I ruined her life, that she wished I was never born, that she hated me, etc. Unfortunately for me, my mom wanted me and my sister to get along so I was always around her. She would read books to me and have me around all the time. Because of this, I’m pretty sure anyway, I grew up to be very gifted. I entered kindergarten a year early, and all of my school life felt easy. I was never challenged. Even the gifted classes I was out in were hardly anything to me. Now, I know this sounds like I’m bragging, but I take no pride in these words or my talents. I’ll tell you why later.

Growing up was surprisingly difficult for me. My mom was struggling to support both of us so we moved house a lot. We moved into our grandma’s house at one point. That was when it was the worst. My sister would constantly tell on me, but when I turned the tables on her, she’d beg me not to. She’d promise that she’d ever tell on me again, and then turned around and threw away said promise as soon as I let it go. I was the “problematic” child. My sister berated me constantly, telling me that I was bad at dancing and singing, which is still one of my passions to this day. It stuck with me. Everything does.

Fastforward to middle school. I had spent the last few years of my life with a less than agreeable sister and a difficult to approach mother. I’ll get into my father’s deal in a little bit. Elementary school hadn't been good either. I was at a higher level than lost of people, so I would occupy my free time with books. PE and outside activities never intrigued me as much as most kids, and so I was then deemed the class outcast all the way until about 7th grade. Up until 5th, I trusted others way too easily. Someone could walk up to me, tell me their name and say they wanted to be friends and within a week I'd be telling them all my secrets and family troubles. It was stupid really, but no one taught me any different. I was betrayed a lot, and everyone in our grade knew things about me that I'm embarrassed to admit. It was heartbreaking to 5th grade me. Why was everyone so mean?

I was always more of a tomboy, even as a child. The girls were too "girly" for me and the boys didn't converse with girls so I was, again, alone.

By the time I got to 6th grade, I had already adapted a system. Go to school, do well, read in your free time, go home. No friends, no acquaintances, nothing. It was how I kept my heart safe. And it worked for a while. Luckily, I moved schools when I came up with the system, so no one was too keen on approaching me in the first place. Then, 7th grade came around. And holy god, was it horrible. For some reason, I made a friend. Now, she was nice. Very nice. We bonded over Undertale, she was great. We're still friends to this day. But I kept her at arms length, cause I had just broken the system. That wasn't apart of the plan. Even worse, I made two more friends. And worse than that, I developed my first ever crush on someone. All of my plans were failing, my walls were crumbling. But when these walls fell, my heart grew weaker still, cause having friends isn't as great as it should be. Especially in middle school.

Our small group was riddled with mental illnesses, and we'd joke about wanting to die at least twice a day. It was how we coped, even though none of us made any effort to get better. It wasn't the best, but 8th grade was somehow worse.

Our group split right down the middle. Half of the group wanted nothing to do with the other half. And I was stuck in the middle. I liked everyone, they were all my friends. How could I possibly choose between them?

And then, as if things couldn't get worse, one of my closest friends in that group called me out. Apparently, I had become so dependent on them, on her, that I was becoming "too outgoing" and annoying, and she stopped responding to me. I had let her inside my walls and she still hurt me deeper than anyone else. I apologized profusely. I had gotten so used to not being a bother that losing her trust was one of my worst fears. It scarred me. I spent days sulking, just wanting to properly apologize to her. I wanted to hear from her, I needed to. Eventually she forgave me, but the damage had been done. That was when I had come up with a new idea. Another system. I didn't execute it, but the idea sprouted in the back of my mind.

8th grade was the year of my first panic attack. It was dumb, really. I woke up, got ready for school, and realized there was an assignment I forgot to do that was due later that day. I had had a perfect record. My homework was never late, and it terrified me to no end to think that my streak would end like that. I sat against the wall of my bedroom, covering my mouth and hoping that I was crying quietly, so I wouldn't wake my dad. No one to help me, no one to ground me. I was spiraling for too long. The only thing that snapped me out of it was myself. I had to go to school or I'd be late, that was how I got myself out of that darkness. Pathetic, I know.

High school was a different battle field in and of itself. Sophomore, Junior and Senior year were pretty good, so I'll only talk about Freshman year.

I was very scared of high school. All the middle school teachers said high school teachers were ruthless, mean and impatient. They kicked people out of class, out of the whole school. School had been easy but high school was different. The mere mention of it made me nervous. Oh yeah, I haven't mentioned it before, but I have pretty bad anxiety. It's primarily social anxiety, but it gets bad at the worst possible times. I think I might have depression but I'm too scared to bring it up with my therapist, so that'll probably stay unsolved.

Freshman year wasn't very bad. It wasn't worse than 8th grade at least. What really got me was the workload. Self discipline, time management, all the mature people things that I had to learn. It made my anxiety skyrocket. I would be finishing assignments during lunch, mere hours before they were due. I was a rightful mess, on all accounts.

I had a big fallout with my dad, and that just made all of my problems worse. I'll get into that another time, seeing as this post is already too long.

Finishing high school was a breeze compared to earlier years. I made a small group of friends, many of which are onto bigger adventures in life. I haven't started college yet, but I haven't talked about what it is that I really wanted to talk about. The thing that's really been on my mind.

I'm nobody. I'm not just a nobody. I'm nobody. I honestly don't know who I am. My entire life, I had forfeited finding myself in favor of catering to others. I relinquished my personal freedom to make others life easier. I listened to everything my parents told me to do. No question, no complaints. I bend and broke myself to make my sister happy. I gave her so much of myself that I didn't have any left for me, yet she's still not happy with me. My friends don't know who I am. My mind is constantly thinking, I'm constantly drowning in dark thoughts and harmful words but they don't know. I hide it from them, I hid everything from them. I told them not to worry about it. And eventually, they did. It hurt. It stung. But it was my fault entirely.

My dad called me a robot once. I followed orders with feeling or hesitance. He was right. My constant thought process is all of my responsibilities. All of the things I need to do for someone else. Taking a break is impossible. Mt family needs me to function properly so they can live freely and without regret. I can't do that.

I can't eat what I want without making my mom angry in some way. I can't say or do or buy or receive anything without getting into an argument with my sister about how I'm somehow the spoiled one. Hell, I take a nap for too long and my mom gets upset at me. My dad is another ball game all on his own, so I won't talk about him right now.

What I'm trying to say it that my life isn't mine. My life is spent caring for others. Listening to other people over myself.

I'm horrible at taking compliments. I brush them off, deny them, pretty much anything other than saying thank you. It's not that I'm not grateful. I'm just tired of them. I've been showered with praise all my life, but it's bittersweet when you're taken advantage of every day. Taken for granted endlessly. They start to fade together.

Generic, everyday praise infuriates me to the highest level. Don't you dare say that cookie cutter bullshit to me. You think I haven't heard "oh you're so smart" before?? You think I haven't heard "you're beautiful" before??? I understand that you're just trying to be nice, but fuck off with that run of the mill fuckery.

Compliment me

How about you say, thank you for trying so hard for us?

Or, I see you helping out. I appreciate it.

Or, god forbid, you cab relax for once, I can take care of it.

Because god knows that I need a fucking break sometimes!

Oh, take a day off? Unless you want to come over here and handle my 101 responsibilities for this day alone, I suggest you shut that shit up right now.

Telling to take it easy doesn't fix the fucking problem.

One thing I know I do have are some major anger issues. That's not easily solved. None of my problems are.

At this point, I feel like I am my problems. Without my anxiety and my anger, who am I?

Who would I be?

Would I be better? Worse? Who would I have become?

I don't want help because help would change me. Help would get rid of me.

Whoever that me may be.

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thearkhound · 4 years

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CGWorld: Metal Gear Survive interview

The following is a translation of an interview with Konami developers Mineshi Kimura and Noriaki Yamamoto that was published by the Japanese website CG World Entry on February 21, 2018. While this article mainly serves as a promotional piece for Metal Gear Survive, it actually covers quite bit of Metal Gear Solid V too and even briefly touches upon on Mr. Yamamoto’s work as a pixel artist for the Castlevania games released on the Nintendo DS. This was actually the fourth in a series of articles published by CG World aimed at CGI artists hoping to join the video game industry, with previous entries focusing other games and companies such as Dark Souls III by FromSoftware and Monster Hunter World by Capcom. I might translate those too in the future.

The original Japanese article can be read at the following page:

https://entry.cgworld.jp/column/post/201802-c-konami.html

Profiles

Mineshi Kimura - Project Manager. Joined Konami in 1997 after graduating in graphic designs from the Tama University. He has been involved in the mecha and graphic production of the Metal Gear franchise from the original Metal Gear Solid (1998) up to Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain (2015). He served as project manager in Metal Gear Survive (2018).

Noriaki Yamamoto - Graduated from the Department of Mechanical Engineering in the Tokyo University of Science in 1997. Joined the Konami School in 1999. He was involved with the Castlevania series, creating pixel art for characters, weapons and icons, up until Castlevania: Order of Ecclessia (2008). He was involved in the modelling and designing of weapons and mecha in titles such as Neo Contra (2004), Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes (2014), Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain (2015) and Metal Gear Survive (2018).

Konami Digital Entertainment - The digital entertainment subsidiary of Konami Holdings (itself, originally established in 1973 as Konami Industry) which branched off in 2006. They are involved in the planning, production, manufacturing and sales of console games, mobile games and card games. Currently headquartered in Minato, Tokyo.

Metal Gear Survive - The latest installment of the Metal Gear series, released on February 21, 2018. A spinoff of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain (2015) that reconstructs it as a survival game while retaining its high sense of action. We’ll be covering the designs and modelling of the mechas and weapons that appear in the game during the latter half of this article.

Determining the Designs and Coloring of a Character

First of all, can you please tell us about your career up to this point and your current employment

Kimura: I’ve learned graphic design from the Tama Art University and then I’ve joined Konami in 1997. Since then I’ve been involved with the making of the mechs and scenery for the Metal Gear series. From Metal Gear Survive and onward I’ve been mostly in charge of project management, leaving the creative process to other people, starting with Yamamoto. My job is to support everyone else on their work.

Yamamoto: After studying mechanical engineering at the Tokyo University of Science, I studied 3D CGI and game development at the Konami School, joining the company in 1999. I was in charge of drawing pixel art for the characters, weapons and icons in the Castlevania series until 2008 and I was also in charge of designing and modelling the mecha in Neo Contra, which was released in 2004. I’ve been in charged of modelling and designing the weapons and mecha of the Metal Gear series after being assigned to the Metal Gear Solid V project. There are also many setups that I use myself. The tools that I use include Maya, SoftImage, ZBrush, Substance Painter and Photoshop.

Kimura: Since Yamamoto’s specialty is mecha, I think the content of what we will be talking will fall out of the scope of this article series. Nevertheless, Yamamoto was in charge of the modelling of Metal Gear Sahelanthropus, the leading mecha of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain. He started with the idea of wanting to transform it. Therefore, we have many stories that could be helpful to those who want to create a robot.

We’ll look forward to it. It’s pretty unusual for an artist to had majored in mechanical engineering, but it seems to be advantageous when it comes to designing mechas. But before you tell us about Sahelanthropus, can you talk about your involvement with the Castlevania series? We would like to cover your work, from the past to the present, in chronological order.

Yamamoto: I did the pixel art for characters, weapons and icons featured in Dawn of Sorrow (2005), Portrait of Ruin (2006) and Order of Ecclesia (2008). In this case, we would designed the characters in pixel art first and then we would ask the illustrators to draw detailed designs and artwork for the characters.

You mean the pixel art was done before the official art?

Yamamoto: That’s right. Since these are video game characters, we prioritize their visibility while moving on-screen when it comes to deciding their designs and color schemes. We actually implemented the pixel art in the actual game, refining it to perfection while checking out its visibility while moving.

Pixel art for various Castlevania protagonists. From left to right: Soma Cruz from Dawn of Sorrow, Jonathan Morris and Charlotte Aulin from Portrait of Ruin, and Shanoa from Order of Ecclesia. Each character has a design and a color scheme that helped emphasize its visibility on-screen. In the case of Soma for example, white was chosen due to how it’s easy to view on the dark LCD screen used by the portable game machines at the time. Jonathan and Charlotte appear and fight on-screen as a pair, so they were color-coded to make them distinguishable.

Official art of the same characters from the 2010 gameCastlevania: Harmony of Despair. The official art was based on the existing pixel art.

Designing Mecha Like It’s A Toy

Can you tell us the circumstances that led you to propose a transformation gimmick to Sahelanthropus?

Yamamoto: I was assigned to the Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance (2013) project during the middle of its development. Because of that I wasn’t assigned on any of the large mechas, but I was devising mechanisms for even the smallest things with the aim of high quality. After that I was assigned to the Metal Gear Solid V project and was put in charge of modelling the Sahelanthropus, and I think that’s when the opporunity presented itself.

So the evaluation of your previous work had a great impact on your next one.

Yamamoto: Not only that, but it also helped in clarifying what I like to work on everyday. If you keep going on and on, you will eventually find work that you will want to do. I think everyone likes to leave the most important work to someone who likes it and knows it well.

Kimura: Yamamoto’s specialty is plastic models. He’s always building one. Moreover, since he majored in mechanical engineering in college, his love for mecha and engineering oozes in his work.

Yamamoto: I’ve been building models since childhood and I like transforming mecha, so I often thought about their gimmicks. When I started drawing in 3D CGI, I started making such gimmicks myself and began appreciating mecha even more. I was pretty glad when they put me in charge of Sahelanthropus. Because it was the most prominent mecha, I did my best without holding back.

Design illustration of the Sahelanthropus drawn for Metal Gear Solid V.

The 3DCGI model of the Sahelanthropus. Initially it only had the upright bipedal form on the left, but the ability to transform into the Rex-like form on the right was added thanks to Yamamoto’s proposal.

Yamamoto: Ever since I first saw the design of Sahelanthropus, I wanted it to transform into a shape similar to Metal Gear Rex (the mecha from the original Metal Gear Solid). I have a personal passion for Rex and I’m sure many fans of the series feel the same way. While Sahelanthropus was almost unchanged from its original design, we thought of adding a gimmick that allowed it to transform into Rex forum and experimented with a rough a 3D model. The transformation gimmick was well-received, so we were able to adopt it without any issue.

That specifcation change must have had a significant effect on the game.

Yamamoto: We were able to get such proposal accepted since we were involved with the Metal Gear Solid V project from the very beginning. When it gets to the stage of having to come up with the details, we designed it under the assumption that it will be turned into a toy such as a figure or a plastic model, so we make sure that the individual parts will operate without interfering with each other. As a result, the transformation can now occur within the game without the individual 3DCG parts having to overlap with each other. My experience with plastic models helped me in this regard. Because the gimmick with knee is quite complex, I thought it would’ve been impossible to reproduce without metal parts, so I was surprised when the official toy ended up using actual metal parts.

Kimura: I think it’s a great benefit to have the intuition of knowing how to adapt it into a toy. Moreover, I think it’s wonderful that we could add our own original ideas such as wanting a transformation gimmick and not just do what we’re told to do.

The transformation process of Sahelanthropus. “I thought a transformation might be possible if you can somehow manage with the dexterity of its upright form, but I what I actually struggled with was the transformation of its feet.” says Yamamoto. “The actual Metal Gear Rex has so-called ‘reverse joints’ for its feet and I was asked to reproduce in Sahelanthropus’ second form. But if we reproduce it too closely, we cannot used the same rig as its standard form, so we solved this issue by making the knees double-jointed.” Kimura added “Using the same rig consistently will make it easier for the animator to work with. When making a character during game development in this matter, it is necessary to consider points such as whether the thing will collapse if another rig is added or if there will be any issue if more animation is added.”

Sahelanthropus, as it appears in the game.

Making Things Without The Knowledge

Can you tell us about other things that Mr. Yamamoto was assigned to while working on Metal Gear Solid V?

Kimura: From Metal Gear Solid V and onward, we’ve been designing all the mechas that appear in the game. Yamamoto in particular was in charge of designinf the tanks and jets, as well as modelling the Walker Gears. Although the Walker Gears are an original design, we aimed for a sense of a realism that wouldn’t make them stand out too much from real weapons, so we came up with a design that matches the historical background of the 1970′s and 1980′s by researching weapons used by actual military during that period. We followed that same process when designing the wardrobe and props used by characters. If someone without the knowledge ended up coming up with the designs, they might look cool at a glance, but they’ll lack sense of realism, so it’s not a job you could just give to anyone.

Yamamoto: Since weapons are industrial product, each part has its significance and its purpose. It’s essential for the manufacturing to have good productivity. You design while thinking whether this part will be designed by pressing, welding or minting. Good maintainability, such as whether they can be easily removed with bolts, is also important.

It seems that the setting verification and investigation during the prior stage takes a lot more work than the actual designing and modelling.

Yamamoto: The work itself is not all that time consuming. Given that we model each part one by one, research how the paint scrapes off and how it gets dirtied, and then try to reproduce that, that’s what actually takes our time. (laughs)

How long does it take to build just one mecha?

Yamamoto: It depends on the model. Some will take around two weeks, while others will take more than a month. If there are elements that affect the gameplay, then further validation and adjustments might be required. For example, if someone order us to have a vehicle that shoots long-range missiles, then a 3D model will be implemented in-game, actually move it, verify it, and make any necessary adjustments.’’

Many of the vehicles shown here were designed by Mr. Yamamoto.

A couple of tanks designed by Mr. Yamamoto.

A fighter jet that Yamamoto was in charge of designing. “One of the methods of designing an aircraft is called the ‘area rule’.” says Mr. Yamamoto. “It states that shortening the cross-sectional area reduces air resistance. Many real-life fighter jets are designed based on this rule. By applying the same rule to the fighter jets we design for the game, our sense of realism is improved.” The jet’s design follows the area rule such as the main wings having a small fuselage in order to enlarge the cross-sectional area or shifting the position of the vertical and horizontal tails. Such attention to detail reinforces the sense of realism in the game.

D-Walker, a Walker Gear used specifically by Snake.

D-Walker, as it appears in the game.

Working With Partner Companies

What kind of work did you do in Metal Gear Survive?

Yamamoto: In addition to designing and modelling the weapons and mecha, several 3D models were also outsourced to partner companies. In past, when we outsourced some models for another project, parts of my instructions were unclear and the resulting 3D model was very different from what I’ve conceived in my mind. Based on that reflection, this time we started by making a rough 3D model, implemented into the game, and verify if it doesn’t feel out of place even while moving. After that, we create a design sketch and sent it to our partner company along with the previously-created 3D model.

Concept drawings of the JET Hammer designed by Yamamoto. “We render the outline only as a rough 3D model and then we draw over it using Photoshop” says Yamamoto. “I was conscious of how mechanism would actually work and the realism in the composition of parts. I think we came up with a unique item thanks to that.”

A CGI model of the JET Hammer developed by an external company based on the prior image.

Kimura: Our work is practically done when creating the design drawing. (bitter smile) I think Yamamoto’s responsibilities were pretty large, since the instructions I gave him were quite detailed. But it was because of that we’ve been able to come up with 3D models with a higher degree of perfection than ever before. Some of them were approved the first time, which was quite surprising. Prior to that, we usually redid the models at least twice.

Yamamoto: I believe our partners were able to concentrate on improving the quality thanks to the fact that they were not lost when it came to the shapes, sizes and structures. It might seem done at that point, but there’s actually a lot more work to be done afterward such as making the vertices of the polygons suitable for the game, creating various textures and adjusting the shaders.

Does the number of polygons change from the rough shape?

Yamamoto: It depends on the game’s specifications. Sometimes the number of polygons remains almost the same, but sometimes the number might increase or reduce greatly.

Concept art of the wormhole transporter constructed by Yamamoto. “I’ve ordered a design from somebody else, but it wouldn’t hold up together completely, so I’ve decided to redid the design myself” says Yamamoto. “The final design matches the game’s specifications, such as attaching an energy unit that shows its working status or having pole-shaped lights that can be seen from a distance.”

CGI model of the wormhole transporter outsourced to a partner company.

Kimura: While implementing a 3D model into the game, Yamamoto can talk to the directors and planners of game to find out whether it’s fun or not for the game, or whether they have a good feeling or not. I think that’s his strength.

Yamamoto: There are many things that must be said such as “I made this kind of gimmick, so this is how I want it to be used in the game”, “I want you to add this kind of sound” or “I made this kind of weapon, so I want it to be used properly.” Just passing data around will not get you everything, so we verify things after we implement it and try to explain it afterward.

The JET Hammer and the Wormhole Transporter, as they appeared in the game.

All Actions Will Change When You’re Aware of The Users

Finally, can you tell us about your future aspirations?

Yamamoto: It might be fun if I could be focus entirely on creating 3D models all the time, I can’t actually say that. In the future, I feel it might be necessary to take on a management role and bearing the burden in allowing the younger employees to nurture. You need good developers and a good team in order to make a good game. With that in mind, I’ve been mentoring rookie modellers lately.

In what order would you teach them things?

Yamamoto: First I would teach them how to use the basic tools and how we do things in our company. We cannot proceed if the basic tools are not suitable enough. There are many other things that must be taught, but the most difficulty thing that newcomers must learn is to understand a game’s specification. When it comes to game development, a modeller’s goal isn’t just to model things, but to create a game. You need to create a 3D model while considering how it will make a game fun and whether it will work without failure. If you can understand the setup, the animation and even the players themselves, everything can be changed such as how to deal with things, how you will schedule things and how you create data.

Mr. Yamamoto (left) and Mr. Kimura.

#CGWorld #Konami #Castlevania #Metal Gear #Metal Gear Solid V #Metal Gear Survive

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neverlandparker · 5 years

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“Could this be another lead?” (peter parker)

Word Count: 2.4k words

Warnings: none, enjoy!

Author: @neverlandparker

Requested By: @broadwayshtuff p.s. thanks so much for requesting!

Prompt: #7 from my prompt list: “Peter, my favorite avenger is Spider-Man. He is super amazing and believe it or not, I think I’m really close to finding out his identity…”

RINGGGG

The shrill school dismissal bell finally rang and jolted you out of your thoughts. You couldn't be any more excited. You quickly gathered all your belongings and rushed through Midtown’s main hallway to wait by the main entrance for your best friends, Ned and Peter.

This week had seemed especially long and a stressful one too. The teachers somehow decided to dump loads of homework on you this week. You heaved a great big relieved sigh.

It was FINALLY Friday, and you couldn’t wait because Fridays were the best. Not only were they the last day of school for that week, but it also meant that you and your friends, Ned and Peter, would walk home and spend some time together.

You guys would often hangout either at Ned or Peter’s house and build legos, watch movies, or play games. Friday nights were something you’d constantly look forward to each week, and you were especially excited since Peter had promised he would be there after mysteriously skipping out on the last few Fridays.

What brunette nerd was oblivious (or hopefully oblivious) to was that you had begun to slowly develop feelings for him and you saw him as more than a friend, but afraid of risking your friendship, you had kept the secret to yourself.

You shook out of your thoughts as the boys spotted you and made their way through the crowd, weaving between students in order to get to where you were standing by the doorway.

“Hey Y/N! What a week huh? But yay, it's Friday! And you know what that means??”

You gave a laugh at Ned’s enthusiasm and smiled, and off the three of you went.

When you arrived at Ned’s house you made yourself at home, after all, it was almost like your second home because you practically went over all the time. You grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around yourself sighing at the comfort and warmth.

Then all three of you sat down and somehow, your conversation with Ned and Peter about Star Wars turned into one about the infamous Avengers.

Oh.

It's on.

Let’s see who the biggest fan actually is...

You were the ultimate Avengers fan, you had posters, drawings, and even Spiderman pajamas that you were only slightly embarrassed about.

When you had the opportunity to speak, you practically fangirled and told Ned and Peter all about your love of the Avengers and your newfound fascination with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Guys, my favorite avenger is Spider-Man. He is super amazing and believe it or not, I think I’m really close to finding out his identity…”

After your little fangirl moment and rambling about how much you adored the Earth’s youngest Avenger, you looked up to see Ned who was weirdly smiling like Earth’s biggest fool (which you had no idea why) and also Peter who was totally red in the face and a sputtering mess.

Expecting them to agree or even chime into your fangirling, you were confused and a bit disappointed by their strange facial expressions. Weirded out, you quickly back and forth between the boys several times.

Pausing because you registered the awkward atmosphere your fangirling had suddenly created, you frowned.

“Wait. Was it something I said? I’m sorry...”

The boys gave you no response but all of a sudden, Peter abruptly walked out, mumbling over his shoulder some lame excuse about having math homework to finish (but Pete, its Friday) or something like that to do, and then you heard the front door click shut, signaling Peter’s rushed departure.

When Ned’s front door shut, it seemed to end this trance that Ned was in after you finished your little Avengers outburst.

“Sooooo....uh what was that about? Did I say something wrong?” you questioned Ned with a slightly accusing look.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” was all Ned managed to say.

You sighed.

He was such a bad liar. There was definitely something suspicious that just happened here.

For the past few months, you had been obsessed with the Avengers. After all, they had saved your city. There were all these crazy space aliens who invaded and caused chaos upon New York, but thankfully, the Avengers were there and managed to save the city. It was thanks to them that New York was still standing and the fact that you were still alive.

More recently, you noticed a new superhero, “Spider-Man” as YouTube dubbed him. And you had been fascinated with the new hero and curious to learn his real identity. So all things led to other things, and for you, your Avengers obsession quickly turned into an investigation to find the face behind the mask of Queen’s very own Spider-Man.

You quickly told Ned an excuse that was something like, “Uh...yeah I will go do that, but actually, I also really need to go, my mom just texted me and she wants me home. I’ll see you later! Bye!”

And with that, you booked it down the hallway and out of Ned’s house. As you were making your way back to your house, you were too busy thinking about Spider-Man and your mind was running wildly. Could this be another lead in your rather far-fetched investigation in finding the identity of the spandex superhero?

So you paid more attention to Peter Parker over the next few days. But every time you tried to approach him to talk with him, he would just avoid eye contact with you, make a random excuse, and walk away. He seemed to be desperately trying to avoid you. You were heartbroken. What did I do to deserve this?

At lunch, it seemed like every time you had tried to bring it up the topic of the Avengers or Spiderman, he would start to fidget awkwardly and avoid the conversation. You also noticed he seemed to grow more distant. If you were partners in Chemistry class, your once lively conversations with Peter now dwindled to little or none besides the occasional muttered “hey, can you pass me the beaker?” or “what do we do after stirring the mixture?” And to be honest, you felt strange and tired of this weird treatment you had been receiving after that one “fateful” Friday night at Ned’s house.

You decided that as Peter’s friend, it was your responsibility to find out what had exactly happened on Friday night when you had had your little ramble that had led to Peter avoiding you for the entirety of this week. The question that you had left to ask yourself was, “Did this have anything to do with the identity of the superhero?”

Deep in your thoughts as the history teacher rambled on about your assignment, you had begun to think of possible reasons to why Peter was avoiding you. Then, after several focused minutes of thinking, you finally came to your questionable, crazy, and absurd but only logical conclusion.

What if...What if...the reason that Peter had been avoiding you had been because...

You gasped at your conclusion, the fear and shock making your drop your pencil which dropped to the hard tile of the school floor with an audible “clank” and it seemed that half the class seemed to stop whatever they were doing before to stare at your shocked expression. Your hands flew up to your mouth in a failed attempt to cover your loud gasp. Embarrassed that you had made quite the noise, you shrunk in your seat and laughed it off, hoping your fellow peers would buy it and turn their attention back to what they were doing before. ,

...because he himself,

Peter Parker...

was Queen’s very own neighborhood Spider-Man?

At first thought the idea of nerdy, socially awkward Peter Parker as the spandex hero almost made you laugh out loud, but thinking about it again now, it made perfect sense.

Suddenly, everything clicked:

...why he had decided to avoid you after the conversation at Ned’s house

...why he had tried to avoid you this week

...the numerous times in the past he had skipped your Friday movie nights that you, him, and Ned would enjoy after a long week of school

...why he had seemed to gain quite the athletic form recently.

...why he specifically avoided the topic of Spider-Man

and now, you had been assigned yourself a new mission:

To confirm the identity of the web-slinging hero, Spider-Man, as your friend, Peter Parker.

Feeling energized with a the sense of discovery and epiphany, you could hardly wait until class was over. And when the school bell once again signaled the end of the school day, you dashed out of the classroom and walked out towards the front grounds of the school. You had a plan. And one that involved with you spying on Peter.

If he wasn’t going to tell you, you might as well take the initiative to figure it out yourself. Besides, you were getting tired of Peter treating you like Flash Thompson, the school bully who Peter always actively tried to avoid because of the taunts that he would often shout at him to ridicule Peter whenever saw him.

That’s right, you, Y/N, are on an investigation to identify the face behind the mask of the web-slinging hero.

Instead of waiting by your usual spot to wait for Ned and Peter, you had decided to hang out in a secluded shady spot underneath a tree where Ned and Peter were most unlikely to spot you.

Waiting in the shade, you noticed Peter and Ned looking for you, but after a while of looking, they gave up and went their separate ways. But what caught your attention was the fact that Peter walked away from the school in the direction completely opposite of the neighborhood he, you, and Ned lived in. Instead, it seemed like he was heading straight towards an alley. Tailing him loosely, trying hard not to get noticed by him, you followed him into the alleyway. And what you saw, only seemed to confirm your earlier suspicions.

You cautiously approached the-person-who-must-be-Peter in his Spider-Man suit standing with his back facing you in the alley, but despite your best attempt at not getting discovered, he whipped around, recognized you, and jumped backwards. His spider eyes of his suit seemed to dilate and you could only guess it was out of surprise.

“Soooooo...Parker...you have some explaining to do...”

But before he managed to modify his voice....it was too late and in a timid and surprised voice he exclaimed, “Y/N?!?”

He tried to cover it up...he really did...but he tried...and failed...miserably.

“I mean...u-uh w-w-who’s Parker? I don’t k-k-know him...a-anyways hey, whattcha doin’ here?” he said, but this time, in a newly modified voice an octave lower than his normal one.

His stuttering only grew worse and you grinned, knowing that his cheeks would be flaming underneath his mask. His best effort to fool you failed miserably, and you shook your head, responded with a slight giggle, and gave him a look.

You laughed...“Please don’t do this, Pete.”

However, despite his failure in the beginning, he seemed adamant on keeping his act up.

“Okay, if you are so convinced I’m Parker, then you can prove it to me” he stated in a gruff voice, this time, with new-found surge of confidence that you were 99% sure that only came with the Spider-Man suit. He was still hoping and trying to mislead you. But you wouldn’t be deterred. You knew it was him under the mask, but for some reason, he was still trying his absolute best to throw you off your little investigation.

You confidently strode up to him and to be honest, you think you surprised him with your confidence because he seemed rather taken aback by your actions, judging by his almost-comically dilated Spider-Man eyes. You smirked.

“You are Parker...Peter Parker because...

“number one...,” you counted off on your fingers, giving your favorite hero an award-winning smile, one that translated into that’s right, I’ve solved the mystery now, its game over... “...our height difference is the same.”

“number two...,” you continued to list off. “um, you sound like him, duh.” you stated flatly, at which he shook his head wildly against, which you found so amusing that you almost just burst out laughing right then and there. But reminding yourself that you were in the middle of your oh-so-serious interrogation, you managed to stifle your laughter.

“u-uhhhh, n-n-no I d-don’t...” Peter interjected, but instead of his gruff confident voice, his normal stutter voice slipped out.

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“andddddd…..” you continued...

“o-okay, okay, okay, okay,” the masked hero sputtered, but this time in his ordinary Peter Parker voice.

Sighing, he dropped his shoulders, and he turned away from you to check his surroundings, making sure that there weren’t any peeping eyes, to which indeed thankfully there were none, before finally lifting his mask up and off his face to reveal a brunette boy standing with his back towards you.

You held your breath, waiting for the big reveal that would confirm your suspicions.

surely you were right...right?

Finally, after what felt like 10 minutes, but was only a few seconds, he finally turned around to meet your glance.

“You caught me.” it was indeed no other than your best friend, Peter Parker, who turned around, grimaced, and raised his hands in surrender.

You gave him a look that said really?

He just gave you a sheepish smile, rubbed the back of his head, and you swear that you could see a blush that had crept up his cheeks.

Glad that you had managed to solve the mystery as you felt your investigation come to an end. But you still had one last thing you wanted to tell you friend.

“Oh! And Peter?”

“Huh?”

”I meant what I said,

But Peter just stared at you with confusion written all over his face.

”At Ned’s House...I meant what I said...you’re my favorite Avenger,” and with your reference at the words you had said “that one fateful night,” you gave Peter a wink and a wave, and walked out of the alleyway with an uncontrollable smile tugging at your lips and a new bounce in your step.

And once your words had sunk in, Peter Parker was left in the alleyway, once again, a sputtering mess, but this time his cheeks were a flaming crimson color...

...one that perfectly complimented his Spider-Man suit.

Author Notes: Sorry this one took me a while to write...I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! :)

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #spider-man #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man homecoming #avengers #marvel #marvelouspeterparkerr #marvelouspeterparkerrwrites

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unholyhelbig · 6 years

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Happy (early/late) Birthday @lilhan !: This human is the most god damn supportive person that I have ever met in my life and deserves the world because wow! So this is a birthday gift, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

[The orignial prompt is from @dailyau ]

Beca Mitchell was the definition of difficult. There was no clear-cut excuse to why Chloe decided this in the fifth grade- but she did. She knew from the moment the girl with dark eyes and equally as pitch clothing stepped foot into their classroom that she was trouble. Trouble that always had a way of finding her like a homing beacon.

Okay, so maybe Chloe wasn’t being exactly fair when it came to Beca Mitchell. She was quick to make her assumptions, and the tiny brunette never did anything to disprove the thoughts she was having; hell, she only convinced the redhead. Convinced her that problems followed the girl like a dark cloud- and somehow, somewhere, that energy had leaked onto Chloe.

It started in the 7th grade, a pure rivalry that was set into motion after Beca knocked a whole carton of strawberry milk onto Chloe’s lap the day of her big presentation in history class. Beca thought it was hilarious- Chloe thought she was about to be sent to jail for voluntary manslaughter.

In 8th grade, Chloe tripped Beca when she was walking to the front of the room.

In 9th grade, Beca superglued Chloe’s locker shut on the last day of school.

In 10th grade, Chloe stuck Beca’s gym clothes into the school showers.

In 11th grade, Beca opened her car door and scratched Chloe’s. (on accident, of course)

This year had gone by without incident. Of course, Chloe’s hatred still burned strong for the woman who turned into the little brooding hobbit that she knew she would be from day one. And yeah, maybe she had grown into her awkward frame, and maybe she did wear that stupid smirk every single time she pressed her shoulder into Chloe’s in the crowded hallway. But she was still Beca Mitchell. And Beca Mitchell was the definition of difficult.

The classroom was hot, stifling really- maybe it was just the blush that burned bright the second the mention of senior projects filled the air. How could they focus on the biggest part of their high school career when the air condition was busted in the middle of March? It was damn near impossible- but yet, Mrs. Cotler continued to drone on about the book reports and presentations that would be done as partners. Assigned partners.

Half the room let out obliged huffs of protest, but no one saw the need to protest. It was already done, there were three months left of school- and of that meant struggling to work with one more person in order to walk across that stage and finally collect a much-deserved diploma, then words would fall on deaf ears. She started to rattle off pairings, stopping between each one to gauge a reaction that was sure to come; awkward shifting displaced breath, but never anything vocal.

“Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale.”

Chloe snorted- actually and physically pulled enough air into her lungs to create an ungodly noise. She hadn’t even realized she did it, not until she felt the eyes of the room on her, lifting her perfectly blue eyes up to scan the space, her neck heating up in an unsightly blush. Right, this would be a problem.

“Problem, Miss Beale?”

“No, no of course not.”

She wanted to scream to the high heavens. Yes, there was a problem. That problem was sitting smugly I the corner of the room with that stupid half smirk against her lips- eyes painted thickly in dark makeup, large monstrosities littering her eyes and weighing them down, no doubt. She had the pink tip of an eraser lodged between her teeth, sending a dark wink Chloe’s way. This was amusing to her, funny, even. It made Chloe steam.

After class, she lingered by her locker, inadvertently running her fingers over the cold metal. Maybe it was just a way of checking, checking to see if Beca had reverted to her middle school ways and had taken to welding more things shut. It was foolish of Chloe to think that she would, but then again, this was Beca Mitchell. Chloe crossed her arms over her t-shirted chest (Sporting the Barden Bulldogs logo, because a little school spirit never killed anyone)- her eyes trained on the wooden door that was fortunately situated across from her. A darkroom that Beca would often vanish into.

It creaked open after another five minutes, Beca rolling her shoulders back as she blindly locked the door behind her. It was done with such fluid skill that it stirred Chloe. She pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, swallowing it down as Beca startled at the sudden presence of another.

“Chloe! Jesus Fuck!” She hissed, back pressing against the door. “What are you doing here?”

She had to admit, the frazzled look that Beca sported wasn’t exactly off-putting, in fact, it was kind of adorable as she took in the tendrils of hair that fell from a messy top bun. The small woman was focused on her photography more than anything, and that showed in her slacked demeanor. It showed little malice, not like it usually did. Their silly rivalry only displaying certain sides of each other.

“I want to talk about the project.” She said softly, almost guilty.

“Well, can you do it without giving me a damn heart attack first?” That snark found a way into her voice once more “I thought we would do what we usually do when they pair us together.”

That happened a lot more than either of them would like to admit. It seemed like the teachers had a bet going. How long could they push the two together before watching them crumble into chaos? The joke was on them though. They barely worked together at all, constantly splitting work up without much communication at all. Not until now.

“No way,” Chloe said quickly, “This project is way too important to be thrown together last minute.”

“Are you suggesting we actually spend time together?” Beca snarked, taking a small step forward. Her breath was animated, eyebrow lifted in the most condescending way possible. “Chloe, if you hadn’t noticed, I hate you. And you hate me. That’s how this works.”

Was that how this worked? Up until a few moments ago, Chloe would say yes. She would be quick to shove Beca Mitchell down a flight of steps if she was given the chance. It was all for the sake of revenge, for the sake of keeping up this little game that they had been playing for as long as they could remember. Frankly, it was a bit exhausting on both ends- but Chloe wouldn’t be the first to admit that. Not to herself, and certainly not to Beca.

She grasped the fabric collar of Beca’s shirt, pulling her impossibly close. She smelled like mint and acetic acid. It was sour but alluring. Who knows how long Beca was holed up in that dark room, her eyes blinking against the red light as she spent hours developing the photos that she was too stubborn to take digitally.

“Trust me, I’ve realized. I won’t have trouble like you mucking up my final grade.” Chloe purred “Ever since the god damn fifth grade, you and your cute little attitudes have been fucking up my life. I don’t care if we have to sit up all night just to get you to actually read a book for once- but you’re not screwing me over with this project.”

There was silence for a moment; Beca was taking in the silent anger that Chloe seemed to be vibrating with. The way her haint eyes were flashing with fire. She was impossibly close, knee pressing firmly against the inside of Beca’s leg- the brunette barely taking note of how hard she was leaning against the door behind her.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Ugh!”

“What?!”

Chloe took a deep breath to steady herself against Beca. Of course, that was the only thing that the woman picked up. Not the fact that their final grades were in jeopardy, because god knows Chloe would have to spend the next month explaining to Beca the plot line of the book before they even attempted the report. “That was the only thing you fucking heard, wasn’t it?”

“I mean yeah,” Beca said, “When a beautiful woman has you pushed up against the wall, it’s kind of hard to notice anything else.”

Chloe swallowed thickly, tightening her grip against the girl’s shirt. It elected a sharp breath to fill the air. She almost paled at the words, at the heat that pooled below her waist. But instead, she parted her lips, not exactly sure what to say- how to respond to the midnight eyes that stared expectantly into hers. This was Beca Mitchell.

She does the only thing she can do; she leans forward and gently placed her lips against Beca’s warm ones. She tasted mint, and cherry, and more importantly, Beca. The movement was tender, and the smaller woman stalled for a moment before folding into the embrace. Her hands trail carefully up Chloe’s side, her touch hot as she moaned into the contact.

Yeah, Beca Mitchell was the definition of difficult.

#oh my god happy birthday #Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #bechloe fic rec #bechloe au #fanfiction #bechloe #high school au

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mingyus-noona · 5 years

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Stubborn (Jaehyun, Taeyong, Mark, Yuta, Lucas, Jungwoo)

Title: Stubborn Members: Jaehyun, Taeyong, Mark, Yuta, Lucas, Jungwoo Fanfiction type: Oneshot Genre: Angst, Friendship, Drama Word count: 2,028 Just a short little idea I had. This is the second day of my posting spree and I’m still keeping with it. Let’s see if I make it until the 31st! Haha. Hope you enjoy it! Based on when I showed my mom pictures of NCT and she said Jaehyun’s looked like he had a hangover. I imagined him waking up in a hotel room in Vegas after a night of drinking and he sees all these random kids from his school who he doesn’t know and then Jaehyun sees they’re not that bad after all. Somehow turned into this instead, but I can still write that other one if anyone is interested. I made Jaehyun such a jerk in this. My baby D: I wanted to add more to this, but I knew if I worked on perfecting it, it wouldn’t get posted today lol ============================================================ When Jaehyun pulled into the driveway, it was 10:47, meaning the first showing of the new movie he'd been wanting to see would start in less than half an hour. Today was a professional development day at school, so there were no classes. He pulled out his phone and dialed Taeyong's number, tapping his fingers on the dashboard to the beat of the song playing from his radio. He was still waiting by the time the song had changed, and he began belting it out loud, sticking his head out his car window and in the direction of the house in an attempt to get Taeyong's attention in case he was still sleeping in. Finally, Taeyong picked up, apologizing for taking so long to answer the call. "About damn time," Jaehyun joked, getting out of the car and walking to the front door. "Is the door unlocked? I'm coming in." He turned the knob and pushed on it, shutting the door behind him. "Yeah, but I have people over. It's for a school project." "You're spending a day off from school doing homework?" Jaehyun had reached the basement door by now, so he opened it and took the stairs down to the ground level. With his phone still pressed to his ear, Taeyong said, "Yeah. We needed to finish this project, like, today. It's due second period tomorrow." Both of them hung up on the call now that Jaehyun was in the same room. "It probably won't take too long. Just pay some games or something for a bit, and then we can hang out." Taeyong gestured to the game system that was set up on the other side of the room. Jaehyun complied, but couldn't help but glance over at Taeyong here and there. He was surrounded by four other guys. Jaehyun recognized one of them as a sophomore named Mark, and he always heard other people talking about that guy. What a conceited prick. Fuck Mark. Mark was an asshole. There was another kid Jaehyun vaguely knew of, but the extent of his knowledge was that he was weird. As they were finishing up the project, he kept saying random things and being super loud. Jaehyun almost told him to fuck off, but he managed to bite his tongue and keep his comments to himself. By the time they were finished, Jaehyun learned that his name was Lucas and the guy who kept throwing pillows at him to get him to shut up was a senior exchange student named Yuta. The fourth guy hadn't even spoken, and Jaehyun still didn't know his name. "Are you guys done yet?" Jaehyun finally asked, having tired of playing video games. He tossed the controller onto the couch and stood up, walking over to the five guys huddled around the computer. Taeyong looked at his friend with a pleading expression, like he was begging for him to quit it. But then he cleared his throat and asked the fifth guy―Jungwoo--if he could proof-read the assignment for them and turn it in online. He was the best one at editing, apparently. Jungwoo nodded, and Jaehyun thought he heard him quietly mumble something, but he couldn't be too sure. "So, we can go now?" "Where are we going?" Mark asked. Jaehyun scoffed. "Not you, Lee. I don't see your name on tickets to the movies. Just me and my best friend." Mark was hardly able to hold in his laughter at the jealousy that was laced in Jaehyun's voice. "Okay," he mocked. "What are you two best friends seeing?" "None of your business." He turned to Taeyong, who gave him another soft look, as if to ask Jaehyun to stop being rude. "What?" Jaehyun asked. "It wouldn't be so bad if we all went, would it?" "We've been waiting for this to come out for months," Jaehyun pointed out. "Us. If you really want to hang out with them, you and I can see it another day then." They all looked offended that they were lumped into the "other" category, the undesired, the rejects. Jungwoo looked like he wanted to burst right open or leave or pee his pants because of the tension in the room. Yuta was probably seconds away from standing up to show this Jaehyun guy a piece of his mind. The thought was already on Mark's mind, but he was too chicken to stand up and do it. Taeyong didn't want to cause a scene, so he stayed quiet. And then there was Lucas. "So, where are we going then?" Dumbass echoed through several of their minds after his question, but they all still felt too awkward to say anything. It was clear Taeyong's friend hated them the moment he stepped foot downstairs. For no reason, other than his jealousy. If Mark were brave, he would have told Jaehyun to stop being such a big baby. Taeyong was allowed to have other friends. He and Taeyong had met in a music class and had become rather close friends. Not as close as his friendship with Jaehyun, of course, but not that of the relationship between strangers either. They'd hung out outside of class a few times and even goofed off during class by freestyling some raps. During one class period, they joked about starting a rap duo. And even though it was just a joke, part of both of them actually wanted to take it seriously, thought it would be cool to actually develop it further. "Do you wanna take this one, or should I?" Jaehyun asked Taeyong. He was about to slap the stupid out of that Lucas kid. "We could go for a hike," Taeyong suggested. Jaehyun stifled a laugh. "What now?" Mark rolled his eyes. "Well, except for one brain cell here," he gestured to Lucas, "the rest of you look skinny, weak, and soft as fuck." Lucas was about to protest and defend himself, but as Jaehyun said the word soft, with his eyes on Jungwoo, the rest of the guys glanced over at him and down to the teddy bear-printed sweater he was wearing. Jungwoo smiled nervously. "Wh-what?” Jaehyun had to bite his tongue in order to not respond and crush the kid's soul, make him cry, or both. Honestly, he couldn't understand why Taeyong would want to hang out with these losers. Okay, he understood that they had a project to work on. Whatever. But he could have easily gotten rid of them and then gone to the movies with Jaehyun. Instead, half an hour later, the six of them were getting ready to go, snacks and drinks in tow. Mark, Lucas, Yuta, and Jungwoo had brought their backpacks with them, and Taeyong easily had access to his because they were all at his house. The best Jaehyun had were the pockets of his jacket, but it'd have to do. They all raided the snack cabinet in Taeyong's kitchen and grabbed bottles of water and sports drinks before heading out. On the way there, with all of them piled into Jaehyun's car―much to his annoyance―the amount of insults were kept to a minimum. Mostly because Jaehyun had to focus on driving, but also because Taeyong made the effort to keep the conversation flowing between everyone. Little questions about what kind of things everyone was into or what plans they had for the weekend. Anything to keep Jaehyun from mocking them. Taeyong felt bad enough already for all his friend had said to them and for the fact that he hadn't really defended them, only tried to silently signal to Jaehyun to cut it out. Jaehyun wasn't a bad guy at all. He'd been Taeyong's best friend for as long as he could remember. It made sense that Jaehyun was jealous. Sure, he was being a bit childish and over-reactive, since they really need to get work done and Taeyong was allowed to hang out with other people, but Taeyong definitely understood the feeling of being left out, so he couldn't entirely be mad at Jaehyun. He was his best friend after all. Which was why when they encountered a snake later that day, Taeyong immediately grew nervous. He didn't want any of them to get hurt, but he had a soft spot for Jaehyun. And of course, he was the one to get bitten. And of course, Taeyong was a coward and couldn't even move at first. Jaehyun hadn't seen the snake coming, but he wasn't too far off from Yuta and Lucas, who were able to scare the snake away by stomping on the ground. All Taeyong could think to do was to grab his bottle of water and dump it onto Jaehyun's wound to try disinfect it. But seconds after this thought and trying to put it into action, Mark swatted the bottle away and started untying the flannel shirt from around his waist. Jaehyun protested. "He was trying to help me. What the hell? Why would you do that?" "You're not supposed to wash it. If there's venom left on the skin, it can help identify what kind of snake it is, and therefore, what plan of action needs to be taken. Keep your leg still." Mark was busy straightening out Jaehyun's leg. "Don't bend it. And stop moving. You'll make it worse." Jaehyun tried his best to comply as Mark held his shirt tightly to Jaehyun's leg. "Aren't you supposed to tie that around my leg?" Jaehyun asked. "Isn't that just going to make it spread quicker?" A hand came into contact with Jaehyun's cheek. It was a light, but still sharp, slap that left him with his mouth wide open as he stared at the person who delivered it: Jungwoo. "Ow, what was that for?" Jungwoo looked nervous, like he was regretting having slapped Jaehyun. Then he softly said, "It sounds like he knows what he's talking about. I think you should listen to him." "You're not supposed to make a tourniquet,” Mark said. “You just need to have pressure against it. As much pressure as you can. Lucas, you're stronger than me. Hold this down. Taeyong, call 911 if you have a signal." Luckily, he did, but he was so scared he could hardly move. He could barely process what was happening. First, he couldn't react to his friend being in danger. Then he almost made a mistake that could harm him even more. Now he couldn't even do one of the simplest and most important things he could do: call for help. When it was clear he was in too much shock to do what he was told, Mark took out his own phone and made the call. And there it was again. Taeyong being too much of a coward to do the right thing. It hurt him, how he kept things in and didn't do what he needed to. He couldn't stick up for Mark, Jungwoo, Yuta, and Lucas when Jaehyun was being rude. And he couldn't make a simple fucking phone call to get his best friend medical attention. And even though he felt he'd made a lot of mistakes that day, he'd been in the right mindset. He was just a little too shy to confront Jaehyun outright. After going to the hospital and receiving medical attention, which turned out to not be as necessary as the guys originally thought, Jaehyun was the one who felt worse. He definitely knew he hadn't come off as the nicest person earlier, but in his mind, he felt he was just defending his friendship with Taeyong. But the guys he'd thoughtlessly and harshly judged earlier had proven to be lifesavers. Even if the bite wasn't that serious, he was lucky enough to have had them there to begin with, because things could have easily been worse. Everyone had flaws. Taeyong was very caring, but often shy to express his thoughts, preferring to hold back in case he offended anyone. Jaehyun, on the other hand, offended people all the time, but was blinded by how his words and actions affected others. He was stubborn, judgmental, too quick to think he knew someone based off of appearance or one thing they did. But people could surprise you. So, he'd started out calling Mark Lee every bad name in the book. But now, he wasn't so bad. Sure, he wasn't going to jump at being his friend, but he was okay.

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