#how I managed not to swear during this rant-I never knew I had this talent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

journalxxx · 3 years

Text

Green Light

Toshinori Yagi had never been much of an avid reader.

In his youth, bursting with energy and good intentions as he was, the mere act of standing still in any one place felt like torture. There were places to be, people to save, villains to track down, not to mention training. Literary and artistic pursuits were valuable and commendable, but Toshinori himself preferred leaving them to others, while he himself could fulfil the task of ensuring that such talented individuals could let their inspiration bloom in a safe and hospitable society. Even in the latest years, when the burden of heroic activities weighed too much on his wrecked body to allow him more than a handful of work hours per day, he hadn't quite managed to find a taste for books, and had filled his sadly abundant downtime with movies instead.

Yet, that evening, a long-forgotten memory of literary nature sprang to his mind. David Shield, his brilliant wingman from the days spent in America after graduating, had been a proper bookworm - a strangely action-inclined one, but a bookworm nonetheless, and his love for novels was second only to his overwhelming passion for science and engineering. He used to chat with his Japanese friend about his favorite reads, and Toshinori recalled a bit of a heated rant about The Great Gatsby. A green light, twinkling in the darkness, a visible reminder of human ambition and strife for greatness, even a metaphor for the great American dream itself. A beacon of hope that stole one's gaze and breath, both out of satisfaction and frustration. Toshinori was reminded of that conversation, that evening, as his eyes followed the electric green light zooming around in the darkening sky, hopping over and between buildings with astonishing speed, closer and closer.

"You hurt?" Toshinori asked, as soon as Midoriya landed, after decelerating with a couple of hops and stopping precisely next to him.

"I'm... all right." The hooded figure replied, ever so slightly out of breath because of the effort, or maybe because of the dust cloud he'd raised.

"Your arms and legs?"

Midoriya had developed a worrying tolerance to pain in the last year and his definition of 'injury' had shifted accordingly, so Toshinori couldn't help ascertaining his student's safety to the point of redundancy. His insistence was met with a confident eyes as the boy uncovered his face and flexed his fingers, proving that the latest addition to his combat equipment had worked as intended. Toshinori had warned him early on about the dangers of relying too much on gauntlets, braces and assorted devices, and there had been no signs of him having forgotten about that. Still, he reminded him once more of the importance of avoiding wounds and shattered bones in the current circumstances. Midoriya accepted his mentor's words without a trace of annoyance, as always.

Toshinori's mobile rang. It was Hawks, at it again with his unrequested commentary on the operation. Midoriya was gone with a giant leap before Toshinori could complete two sentences. He politely deflected his colleague's nagging as the dust settled anew. Lots of dust, but not a single mark or crack on the asphalt touched by Midoriya's feet. The corners of Toshinori's lips curved upwards. Perfect control.

Very few things in his life had terrified All Might - the unwavering, the unflinching, the indefatigable All Might - as much as the sight of black tendrils sprouting uncontrollably from his student's hand during class training. Those black tendrils that looked so strikingly similar to his nemesis' own Rivets, so much that they had made him fear that All For One somehow, in some wretched, unfathomable way, had manifested on the spot, or even possessed Midoriya himself, and was ready to destroy, stab, maul every single one of the budding heroes right before his eyes. In hindsight, he could only feel shame at the memory of his behaviour during that emergency. He could only stutter vague and panicking warnings during those dreadful minutes, while Aizawa and Vlad had assessed the situation with the proper detachment.

The aftermath of the event had been deeply confusing. A new quirk, inherited from one of the predecessors? The predecessors themselves, now able to interact with Modoriya's mind? Toshinori had found himself at a loss. He was supposed to guide his student to the fullest understanding of his power, but those developments were completely unheard of. He offered the boy his most confident smile and reassurements, for they were what he needed, but privately... he worried. He worried very much. And before he knew it, the Paranormal Liberation war had left his precious successor a heap of broken limbs and regrets.

And then Midoriya had mastered Black Whip. And Float. And Danger Sense. And Smokescreen. All within few months. All with virtually no guidance (except from the several entities dwelling in One For All, probably).

'Unbelievable' didn't even begin to describe the scope of that feat. Toshinori had watched in sheer awe his pupil bounce back from the tragedy with renewed vigor, purpose and skill. He had willingly shouldered responsibilities that no one would have forced even on a professional hero and now here he was, acting as the bait for the most dangerous villain in the world, while also saving innocents in the process. As it turned out, the new wielder of One For All was managing just fine.

Ostensibly, at least.

Twenty-seven hours later, it started raining. The dull sound of the raindrops hitting the car hood and the regular beeping of Midoriya's GPS lulled Toshinori into another bout of nostalgia as he drove along the main street. It happened more and more often lately, maybe he was really starting to get old. The beaming smile of the boy upon receiving his lunchbox had warmed Toshinori's heart, but it had also made him wonder... Had he been as appreciative towards Nighteye in the past? He had never neglected to thank his sidekick for his invaluable support (especially on the bureaucratic side of things), but... Had he really put his whole heart into it? Had he really conveyed the same honest thankfulness he saw in young Midoriya's eyes whenever Toshinori handed him a meal, or checked his equipment, or removed a bystander from a tricky situation? One thing was certain, and that was that he hadn't been nearly as mindful of his sidekick's warnings back then. Maybe, if he had...

Well. No point in dwelling on the past. He had given his apologies, he had said his goodbyes. He'd have to content himself with those. What mattered now was helping Midoriya, in any way he could. His arguable teaching privileges had practically disappeared since Midoriya had started dealing with new, never-before-manifested traits of One For All. Still, competent and timely support was a blessing even for the mightiest of heroes, and Toshinori would be damned if he didn't try his hardest to fill that spot. He'd-

The laptop gave a louder beep, and then silence. The green dot pointing at Midoriya's position disappeared. Toshinori cursed and stepped on the gas. He took notice, for the briefest fraction of a second, of the cylindrical object bouncing towards his car, until it was close enough to realize-

There was a flash, a violent impact, and then nothing.

There was darkness. And pain. His head throbbed horrendously, and he struggled to string together any thoughts. There was liquid trickling down his face, some cold and some warm. He was drenched, and cold, and very nauseous. He was standing vertically, but not by his own will. He felt like a coat hanging from a rack. There were voices, one extremely close, shouting so loudly that it made him whince. He couldn't seem to make out the words. There was a much farther scream-

He recognised it. With a disproportionate effort, he opened his eyes. There it was, the familiar green glow. The boy, sizzling with energy, stood out like a mystic vision in the darkness. He looked furious, and ready to sprint towards him.

But he was waiting. Waiting for an opening, Toshinori realized, an opening that whoever was jerking the collar of his jacket didn't seem to offer. Toshinori didn't feel capable of summoning enough balance or coordination to move, let alone put up a fight, but could he provide a distraction anyway? Maybe. Yes. Yes, he could.

Without thinking twice, he flexed every single muscle in his body, and shouted. He shouted only to add to the surprise effect at first, then he kept going because it really fucking hurt. But it worked. The sudden increase of his body mass threw the mysterious assailant off balance, and he was dropped on the ground. Instantly, a powerful air blast signalled Midoriya's attack, and then all hell broke loose. Feeling as if each of his limbs had caught fire, wrecked by a violent coughing fit, Toshinori could only squirm on the spot as he felt vicious blows landing in his vicinity and on the surrounding buildings, more screams and undefined explosions, until a stronger gust of wind lifted his shrunk form in the air and sent him flying like ragdoll. His back hit something much harder than him, and darkness descended again.

There was darkness. Complete, impenetrable, all-encompassing. He had no pain, no form, no body. Nothingness stretched uninterrupted in all directions. He was nothing and there was nothing, save for the small crowd of entities not farm from him. He listened.

"...coordination. It had to be planned carefully to avoid all the precautions you took. You bear no guilt of carelessness." A quiet voice said. There was barely any inflection to its tone.

"It wasn't enough!" The green voice replied, upset. Unlike the others, this one had a head, though only the back of it was visible. "It could have gone a lot worse! He could have-"

"Pull yourself together, brat!" A rough voice scolded. "This isn't anything worth sobbing about. Start thinking about how not to make it happen again instead. I swear, you should be used to this sort of thing right now..."

"Not everyone has experienced this level of social instability and violence in their lives since such a young age, Banjo. It takes time to adapt." Another voice said. A kind voice. A woman's voice. He... knew that voice...

"But what else can I do?!" The green one interjected. "I'm training as fast as I can, I'm working on strength and control, I can use more quirks... We've teamed up with the three top heroes in the country and it still isn't enough...!"

"You cannot expect this war to go like a carefully planned game of chess. There will be mistakes, accidents and bad luck. There will be more blood spilled, on both sides. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you will start making some real progress."

" Please, let's not-"

"I will NOT accept it! I won't accept that anyone- especially not him-" The green one boomed and turned to point at him. He saw his face and his tear-stained cheeks, he met his big, bright eyes-

His eyes snapped open.

He heard a gasp, steps, then Midoriya's floating head entered his field of vision.

"All Might! Are you okay?"

He blinked. It was still dark but nowhere near... He could see a ceiling now. He tried turning his head to the side, but a powerful throb coursing all over his skull stopped him. He shut his eyes with a groan and brought a hand to his head, finding layers of bandages in the way.

"Ngh... kid... " Toshinori managed. "Where...?"

"The basement in Daina. We brought you here after we captured the villains. Do you remember?"

He remembered something. Driving, and the glint of the granade right outside his windshield... after that, nothing.

He finally managed to open his eyes. The messy, familiar layout of workbench, cot, monitors, assorted devices and cooking appliances of the hideout was a welcome sight that grounded him a little more.

"I thought we should bring you to a hospital, but Hawks was sure you only had a mild concussion." Midoriya continued.

Right. The car had probably protected him from the brunt of the blast. Hawks himself had provided them with that particular vehicle, describing it as 'practically a tank, but faster'. Evidently he wasn't just overselling it.

"Good. Hospitals are the last places we need to be right now." Toshinori knew that their plan of using Midoriya as bait could fail in a million different ways. Primarily because of his pupil's intense desire to protect... well, anyone. His schoolmates were well-guarded, his mother was well-guarded, but the potential victims were countless. All For One could easily take any random hospital in the country as a hostage and demand Midoriya to hand himself in in exchange for the patients' safety, for example. There was really no need to give him ideas and hang a big, red target on a specific one by putting a wounded All Might in it.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Midoriya asked. "Hawks will send someone over if you need better treatment-"

"I'm fine, don't worry." Surprisingly fine, all things considered. Now that his head was clearing, Toshinori realized the few pangs he felt here and there were way more manageable that he had any right to hope. No doubt he'd be missing that temporary bliss as soon as the painkillers wore out. "And you?"

"Just a few scratches. Nothing debilitating." Toshinori gave him a good once-over. The kid didn't seem to slouch or hold himself stiffly, which was a huge relief. His expression was somewhat strained though. "You've been out for a while. Do you think you can eat something?"

"Ngh. Not sure I can stomach much at the moment."

"Some tea, at least?" The kid wasn't even trying to hide his concern, bless him.

"How long was I out for, exactly?"

"Seven hours."

Mh, maybe he should gulp down something. "...Tea it is, then." Toshinori conceded with a sigh, and Midoriya moved away to busy himself with the pot.

Toshinori wasn't especially fond of describing the several, thought-provoking ways in which his bodily functions had been messed up by All For One's desperate retaliation, but living in close quarters with Midoriya had outed them despite his best efforts. The boy had seemed especially distraught to hear of his eating habits, for some obscure reason. Lacking a stomach to store and properly digest food, Toshinori had to stick to a rigorous habit of six to eight meals a day, scheduled every two or three hours, paying a certain attention to the size and composition of each portion. Accidentally overworking his intestine with an excessive meal would lead to a range of unpleasant consequences, which went beyond a simple rush to the toilet. On top of that, he also had to actively remember to eat. Turns out that the stomach is the major organ creating the sense of hunger and fullness and, without one, one could easily forget about eating altogether, or overdo it without noticing. And all this, with the addition of some vitamin supplements, had the effect of keeping him just well-fed enough to grant him his haggard scarecrow build.

Sure, all these complications turned what ought to be one of life's pleasures into a bit of chore, but the habit was so ingrained in him by now that he was barely bothered by it all. Plus, it could be a lot worse. At least he wasn't doomed to a lifetime of IVs, as he had first dreaded. Still, Toshinori hadn't failed to notice the hints of sadness in the boy's eyes whenever he glanced at the small amounts of easily digestible food in his dish.

"So, what happened out there?" Toshinori asked, after the silence had stretched long enough for his head to settle down.

"We aren't sure of the details yet. You and I were attacked simultaneously, presumably by All For One's men. They didn't confess anything while I was there, but Endeavor said he'd take care of the interrogation." Midoriya answered as he poured the tea into two small cups.

"Oof, I wouldn't want to be in their shoes."

"He was quite... angry. Not only at the villains. I think he tried to set you on fire while I wasn't looking."

"To cauterize my wound, surely. He's such a gentle, caring soul." He winked at the boy, who finally let a small smile grace his features.

Midoriya helped him sit up on the cot, which Toshinori achieved with some mild dizziness and coughing up just two little drops of blood. A good sign. He took the steaming cup he was offered and blew on it.

"I hate to admit it, but they got the best of me very easily. I'm starting to lose count of how many lives I owe you, my boy."

"I... I'm not sure I was the one who saved you though." Midoriya bit his lip, his gaze falling to the floor. "I think I saw the explosion back when they attacked you. It took us all a while to dispatch of the villains after me and get to the site. The group that targeted you had all the time to... to finish their job before we showed up, but they didn't. I think they were trying to bring you somewhere."

Toshinori frowned. That didn't bode well. A kidnapping attempt? Maybe to use him as leverage in case the frontal attack on Midoriya didn't succeed? It could make sense. The mere notion made Toshinori's blood boil, but that was a possibility they'd have to consider very carefully in the future.

"I see. We'd better lay low for a while until Endeavor can give us a clearer picture of the situation." Toshinori pondered. "Any damage to your equipment? I assume most of mine was unrecoverable."

"Mine is in working condition. Hawks said he'd take care of getting us a new vehicle, and he already passed me a new phone, laptop and some other things to replace what was in the car."

Preparedness, thy name is Hawks, Toshinori thought. He promised himself not to brush him off so quickly the next time he called, or maybe even call him himself to thank him. Maybe. The man was strangely hard to read, he didn't quite invite Toshinori's confidence.

"Good." Toshinori took a long sip, then leaned back against wall with a sigh. "I guess we should take advantage of this forced downtime to recuperate. You've been working yourself pretty thin lately, it's hardly sustainable in the long run."

Midoriya didn't reply. He was still staring at the floor as if the secrets of the universe were contained in the concrete beneath. The tea was growing cold in his cup, forgotten on a nearby table. Toshinori kept staring at him in turn, waiting for the boy to notice his own unresponsiveness and offer an explanation. Eventually he spoke, still avoiding his mentor's eyes.

"All Might..." And that was all he managed before trailing off.

"Yes? Something on your mind?" Toshinori encouraged. The answer was again, not quite immediate.

"I have been thinking, lately... about our plan. About how our groups are organised. If our teams are currently as balanced and efficient as they could be."

"Would you rather be paired up with one of the big three, and have me act as support for the others?" Toshinori asked plainly, squashing the little lurch of unease the suggestion gave him.

"N.. Yes, I... Maybe. That is a possibility." Another pause. Midoriya was getting visibly on edge, his free hand clenched to a fist to his side. "If I am to act as bait, I cannot provide coverage for anyone. Jeanist, Hawks and Endeavor are more at liberty to protect-" The boy finally raised his gaze to meet Toshinori's eyes and flinched, almost scared of the sound of his own words.

...Ah, we had finally come to this.

"Don't get me wrong. Please." Suddenly the boy deflated, his back slumped fowards and he rested his elbows on his legs, both his hand supporting the sides of his head. "At the hospital, when you offered to leave UA as well and follow me, I... Y-You have no idea what it means to me, how proud I am to fight alongside you, how much I-"

His voice faltered again. Toshinori waited.

"But... You said yourself, the first time we met, that one has to consider the reality of things. And... the reality of this... is that, right now, there is nothing more dangerous on this planet than being at my side. And... for someone... like you to be so exposed... I can't-"

"Yeah, I'm going to stop you right there." Toshinori butted in, taking another sip of tea. He twirled the cup in his fingers, nonplussed. "Look, kid. Believe me when I say that I am painfully aware that, in terms of combat capability and survivability, I am much more of a liability than an asset to the whole operation-"

"You are not- a liability!" Midoriya almost shouted, and Toshinori could swear that he had corrected himself at the last second to avoid using the word 'weak'. "You coordinate the four of us flawlessly, you take care of my gear, my clothes, my accomodation, my food, you offer me advice and strategy I couldn't come up with on my own, you can hold your ground against low-tier criminals, and evade situations where the odds are too stacked against you. You've been doing all this for months without breaking a sweat! I know exactly how valuable your skills are!"

"Then that makes two of us. I don't see any reason for you to imply that I should leave the team."

"Because... All of this... As valuable as it is, it isn't worth..." Midoriya banged his fists against his thigs, his back hunched over and his head bowed so much that all Toshinori could see was him biting his lip so hard he thought it'd start bleeding, "...your life."

It pained Midoriya to say it. It pained Toshinori to see him so distraught about it. But he had purposefully let the argument get that far, because it was necessary for the boy to confront this thing sooner or later.

"If those villains had had different orders... If we had been slower, or unlucky... You would have died." The boy struggled to continue. "I don't-"

"You don't want to see anyone getting hurt any more. I know."

Toshinori recalled very vividly those days at the hospital. The aftermath. Hectic, nightmarish days for everyone. Relatives, friends, colleagues of the many victims and injured were everywhere, shedding tears of shock and horror behind every corner. Toshinori himself hadn't been able to hold back tears as he had proclaimed his intention to tag along the boy in his crusade against All For One. Rumors through the grapevine said that even Endeavor had been seen weeping in that whirlwind of grief. The only person that Toshinori hadn't seen shed a single tear at any point was Midoriya. That alone should have alerted him of some sudden subversion in the natural order of the universe, but it had taken him some more time to realize the meaning behind that stoicism.

"I share that feeling. Whole-heartedly." Toshinori slowly clenched and unclenched his fist, somberly. "But if all it took to ensure someone's safety was a passionate declaration of intent, the world wouldn't need as many heroes as it does. We both know it, don't we?"

"That's why I'm asking you to-"

"And that's why I'm refusing." Toshinori glared sternly at the boy's hair. "This accident has brought to light a flaw in our patterns of action, and we're lucky it did so without causing any lasting damage. If we need to regroup in a way that grants me less exposure, fine. We can work out the logistics of that later. But if you're trying to convince me to go back and sit tight in UA's offices at whatever you deem a 'safe distance' to be, you can spare your breath. It isn't going to happen."

"But... All Might, please!" Midoriya finally raised his head to look at his teacher, a desperate edge in his eyes. "I wouldn't be left unguarded! Jeanist, Hawks and Endeavor can support me, while you... you are quirkless now and- God, think of Nighteye's vision!"

"Is that why you're trying to push me away? Is it really?" Toshinori retorted, with more bite than he intended. "In few months, you have successfully detached yourself from your classmates, most of your teachers, your own mother. And now you're trying to do the same with me. Is it so far-fetched for me to imagine that, if push comes to shove, you'll try to leave the other pro heroes behind too, in some misguided self-sacrifing effort 'not to see anyone hurt again'!?"

Midoriya's flinched as if he'd just been slapped. Admittedly, that had come out more harshly than Toshinori was planning. The man coughed into his fist, seizing the chance to discreetly rein his own feelings in.

"Young Midoriya." He resumed, more gently. "This overpowering sense of responsibility and protection that you are feeling... is exactly what drove me during the six years between my injury and our first meeting. The drive to uphold a Symbol of Peace that would protect everyone, directly or indirectly. The current situation speaks loudly about the results of my efforts."

Toshinori paused, suddenly caught by a deep bitterness. "If I hadn't been so stubborn... if I hadn't rejected the advice and support of the people who cared about me the most... maybe the Symbol of Peace would still exist to this day. Upheld by more than a single bluffer. I have paid for my mistakes, and the worst part is that I wasn't only one. My friends, my loyal sidekick paid for them dearly, way more harshly than I did. The whole country is paying for them."

Toshinori leant forward, suppressing the cough that threatened to rob his breath. He looked his shocked pupil in the eyes, without the barest hint of reservation. "I will not let you make the same mistake."

Midoriya's head bowed again, very slowly, like a toy with dying batteries. His shoulders trembled.

"I won't be able to talk you out of this, will I?" He said, shakily.

Toshinori wasn't a fool. He knew that Midoriya had grasped the importance of his words. He also knew that discussing that particular topic with All Might, of all people, was especially difficult for him. The pain of losing a mentor (one that somewhat doubled as a surrogate parental figure too, as it happened) was something Toshinori was intimately acquainted to. He could imagine how great Midoriya's fear had to be, to spark so direct a confrontation.

He knew, last but not least, that his successor always, invariably, reliably chose the best course of action when it was asked of him.

"Do you really want to?" Toshinori asked softly, steadying the boy's quivering shoulder with his hand.

Midoriya tensed even more, hesitated. Then he shook his head negatively.

He had grown so much. Physically and mentally, as a person and as a hero. In just two years, his frame had gotten larger and sturdied, his muscles had toned, his reflexes sharpened, his judgement refined, his courage exploded, his kindness bloomed. He had blossomed into such a remarkable individual that, sometimes, even Toshinori forgot that he was still a sixteen-year old.

That he was, most of all, still Izuku Midoriya.

"You haven't turned on the waterworks in a while, have you? It must be full to bursting in there." Toshinori smiled as he pulled the boy into a one-armed hug. "You shouldn't let the pressure build up so much."

The kid let out a pitiful sob and his face fell on Toshinori's shoulder. It was all it took for him to unravel. He broke into a waterfall of tears, failing to contain a long series of low but heart-wrenching whines. He hugged his mentor back and clung to him tightly, the man's shirt balled up in both his fists. Toshinori didn't let go until Midoriya did, few dry coughs taking care of unloading the traitorous knots that were forming in his own throat.

It lasted as long as it needed to. Eventually the gasps abated, the tears stopped flowing, and the boy's desperate grasp on Toshinori loosened.

"...I-I'm sorry." He managed as he pulled back, still held at arm's length by Toshinori's hand. "I just... You are right. About everything. I just..."

"I know. You've finally experienced All For One's devastating maliciousness firsthand. It's natural that you got so disturbed by it. I was disturbed too, and it was hardly my first time witnessing it." In an unexpected turn of fate, Toshinori had managed not to spill his cup during that whole emotional outburst, and he downed the last of his now iced tea with a single gulp. It didn't feel quite as fortifying as if it had been sake. "But we'll all look into how to protect each other better, and we'll move from there. We'll face what they'll throw at us, in one way or another."

Midoriya nodded. The next Symbol of Peace made for a very sorry sight at the moment, with red, puffy eyes and radiating exhaustion from every pore. Toshinori still preferred seeing him like this than as a coiled wrap of nerves and fear one step away from bursting.

"You sure chose an odd moment to start worrying about my potential demise." Toshinori offered, trying to lighten the mood by ruffling the boy's hair in the most annoying way possible.

"Uh? What do you mean?"

"Aren't you in a semi-permanent conference call with your predecessors these days? The way I see it, the moment I bite the dust in this world, I'll just pop back on my feet-" He tapped Midoriya's forehead repeatedly despite his attempts to squirm away, discovering new heights of annoyance within his reach, " ...right here. Ready to lecture you for the rest of your days, unless you miraculously find another quirkless brat to torture in turn."

"That's- that hardly makes things better!" Midoriya swatted his hand away and blurted out, way too quickly. Toshinori had the strong impression that Midoriya had already considered that fact, and dutifully rejected it. "You aren't supposed to exist as a ghost trapped in my head for my sole benefit! You're supposed to live like anyone else, out here, free to enjoy-"

Oh, good grief. "Yes, fine, I get your point!" Toshinori raised his arms defensively. He deserved that, he knew the risks of trying to joke with his overly sensitive protégé. "I'm just saying that it's a handy safety net for you, at least in terms of... emotional support. I wouldn't look unkindly on the chance to chat with some of my deceased acquaintances for my whole life."

"...I suppose that is a good point." Midoriya took Toshinori's empty teacup and put it on the table next to his own. "If... If it even does last that long..."

"Mh?"

"I..." All of a sudden Midoriya was biting his lip again. He had that absorbed look that signalled the start of a deliriously overanalytical tirade. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"...Yes, you do that a lot, don't you?" Toshinori sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable. Midoriya ignored him and went on with his muttering.

"If the permanence of the conscience of One For All's wielders within the power itself isn't tied to their quirks, it must be due to something else. Something that all users have in common. There are many possibilities, but the first one that comes to mind is... willpower. A shared goal." The boy brought a hand to his chin and frowned. "One For All was born out of the First's desire to stop All For One, and this objective was steadily passed down from master to apprentice until now. It stands to reason that this might be the ultimate purpose of the power itself, to solve the conflict that generated it. And... I wonder what would happen after that. After we defeat All For One... will One For All remain the same? Will the connection among its wielders be lost? Will the quirk cease to exist in its entirety?"

Toshinori blinked. Twice. Where on earth was all this coming from now...?

"Did the predecessors tell you about this?"

"No, they don't know any more than we do about the matter." Midoriya finally re-emerged from his bubble of introspection, and gave Toshinori a sheepish smile in response to his puzzled look. "It's just a hypothesis of mine."

Toshinori rubbed his eyes tiredly. That boy's penchant for overthinking things would lead him to an early grave, he was sure of it, and it was only going to get worse now that he had eight distinct personalities residing in his head, ready to produce a constant stream of new inputs.

"...Let me get this straight. You are now worrying about the possibility that, if I were to die in the near future and become a sentient vestige- don't even try to deny it, I know how your head works-" Toshinori raised a finger menacingly as soon as Midoriya opened his mouth. The boy immediately closed it and grimaced with evident guilt, "...you are worried that, in that case, our connection would be lost after accomplishing this shared goal. Am I correct?"

"...I guess so." Midoriya answered, barely above a whisper.

Leave it to this boy to grow anxious about having to grieve for the same person not once, but twice. Toshinori summoned the last embers of his patience to deal with this like a rational adult.

"Listen. I can't deny that One For All has evolved so much since I passed it to you that I can barely claim any expertise on it at this point." Toshinori started, joining the tips of his fingers. "But you spoke of will and purpose. Of will and purpose, I know something about."

Midoriya instantly forgot his insecurity and leaned towards Toshinori, expectation and curiosity lighting his eyes.

"I cannot speak for most of the predecessors, since I never met them." He continued. "But I can tell you something about me, and I bet the same goes for my master too. I never wielded One For All with the purpose of defeating people. I wielded it with the purpose of helping them."

Toshinori waited for the words to sink in. He could pinpoint the moment they did by the distant look that appeared in the boy's eyes. He bet someone was smiling, inside that green-haired head.

"All For One has always been a disgusting, painful wart in the peaceful world I dreamed to protect. He was never the goal of my efforts, just an obstacle. That's all there is to it." He smiled to Midoriya, who now wore that unabashedly admiring expression that gave Toshinori a mild, inexplicable sense of guilt. "If that isn't enough to quell you doubts, you may remember certain promises I made to you and your mother, promises that would not be fulfilled by just taking down any one villain. I'll have you know that I'm not in the habit of going back on my word easily."

Midoriya nodded, worry slowly disappearing from his features.

"Yes... I see what you mean. " The boy visibly relaxed, and smiled. It was the first real smile he'd shown since Toshinori woke up. Finally. "That makes a lot of sense."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Thank you." The way the boy said those two simple words, the way he wore his enormous heart on his sleeve, the way he had never stopped feeling and showing the deepest gratefulness for whatever tidbit of advice Toshinori managed to scrap together...

Toshinori's head gave a painful throb. Either the painkillers were starting to wear off, or all these waves of teenage emotionality were aggravating his concussion. Both possibilities seemed equally likely. A swift intervention was required.

He karate-chopped Midoriya on the head.

"On the other hand!" He declared over the boy's yelp. "Talk about overconfidence, young man! 'After we defeat All For One'? Way to brush off the most miraculous task we'll ever have to accomplish in both our lives! How about we focus more on how to achieve that feat first, and then we worry about whatever existential crisis that may come our way afterwards?"

"Y-Yes! Of course!" Midoriya jumped on his feet with comical speed, accidentally mimicking a half-formed military salute. "I didn't mean to imply it would be easy! Nor less important than-"

"Undoubtedly. So, first order of things: recuperating. On second thought, I think now I could go for some breakfast. Lunch... Dinner?" Toshinori glanced around the room, failing to locate a clock. "Whatever meal is most suitable for this time of day or night."

"Breakfast." Midoriya confirmed, cheering up again. "Any preferences?"

"Some tamago kake wouldn't go amiss."

"Coming right up!" Midoriya moved to the other side of the room with a spring in his step. Toshinori considered lying down for a few minutes while the rice cooked.

"All Might. One last thing."

Toshinori sighed. Wasn't there always just one last thing?

"I said that I agree with everything you told me. Except one thing." Midoriya continued, from outside of Toshinori's view. His voice was firm. "You are no bluff. You never were. Even when you thought you were doing your job for only three hours a day, or one, or none at all. All the time, you were working just as hard as everyone else, if not more. And no one in their right mind would deny that you are the best thing that happened to Japan in the last forty years. Don't ever forget that."

As he was sliding from sitting to a horizontal position, Toshinori's head gave another, sharper twinge. It was that, and only that, that made his sight go just a little watery as his nape landed on the pillow.

"...Thanks, kid." He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and relaxed with a deep sigh. "I'll keep it in mind."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #deku #all might #toshinori yagi #izuku midoriya

28 notes · View notes

random-imagines-blog · 3 years

Text

King of the Wasteland {Tech Boy x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1745 Summary: Tech-Boy finds it hard to tell you how he feels. It’s a good thing you’re a master of communication. Notes: Language. It is Techboy after all.

Technology is meant to be cold. It’s meant to be used for your purposes and then upgraded, and then thrown away. It wasn’t supposed to develop any sort of feeling. It’s representation as one of the ‘New Gods’ wasn’t like the others, who things were sacrificed to in order to incite favor. It was just supposed to work. And so it did for many, many years. Doing the thing that it was just supposed to do - until Mr. World had come into play, and stirred things up. And you. You had been the last thing that the Technical Boy had expected to come into his life and shake it like James Bond’s martini.

One of the New Gods yourself, you were on the fence about the war, having friends on both sides. Tech-Boy had been sent to try to lure you over onto his side. The winning side, he had promised. And with that charming tongue, he enticed you and you moved from neutral onto the new side, but preferred the sidelines because all of this violence and taunting was not your style.

It was his, so he did it on behalf of both of you.

“Irrelevant, medieval,” He ranted as you sat on your couch, sipping at a glass of wine. He had been turned down again by one of the other Gods, and turned to you in order to bitch about it. You didn’t speak, knowing that it was much better to let him get it out of his system. Shadow Moon - Wednesday - Bilquis. He would talk about all of them while you listened. He didn’t need advice. He wouldn’t have welcomed it, not even from you. He knew best.

He managed to get most of it out of his system, and then collapsed next to you on the couch. He brought his vape out of his pocket, and took a puff. It exuded a smoke that smelled of watermelon. Your favorite. You lightly tapped against his knees in a morse code pattern, telling him that everything was going to be okay.

“What in the fuck are they doing to me? Sending me as their errand boy,” He said, leaning his head back, exposing his long neck. “If I didn’t have you, I’d fucking explode.”

That wasn’t altogether new, but it was an unexpected compliment from him.

“All I do is listen,” You said, making little circles over his knees now. Communication was your talent, your gift to the world - made more prevalent by the psychiatrists of the last century and a half who found new ways of doing it. Body language. Different types of love languages. You even worked with technology on many things - morse code, binary. Media was your sister in many ways, and combined you created social media. That was the thing about Gods - they could merge. They became many things over time. Developed new skills as humanity became more and more creative about what they wanted and what they needed. “You’re more skilled than you realize. You’ve brought me and others onto your side. You just need to ... find the right language.”

He looked over at you, and seemed to evaluate what working with you on this would bring him. And then he nodded, agreeing with you. He paced around the couch and then settled down beside you, pulling his bony knees up to sit cross-legged. Such a Tech-Boy thing to do. He had troubles sitting still. He always felt the need to evolve. To be better. Restlessness was his demon.

“I-” He started. You turned your head to look at him, eye to eye. Whatever he was going to say didn’t come out. He looked like he had lost his nerve. You tilted your head to the side, patiently waiting for him to continue with it. “I...”

He’d never lost his words like this before. Been interrupted and stopped speaking, sure. But when all was silent, he always managed to fill it, even if it wasn’t in the most eloquent way. He was probably about as elegant as a gigantic elephant, stomping around, but instead of loud footsteps, he had his foul language. Not your greatest achievement in language.

“I appreciate it,” He finally managed to say. You nodded, and finished off your glass of wine, setting the goblet onto the table, and stretched out, your legs going over his body. It was hardly the first time. In fact, you were the only person that he allowed to get so close like this. His arm settled on top of your leg, and he had his thinking expression on. There was always something going on behind those dark eyes of his. And it was rare that he stuttered like that. Below his dignity, you would have thought.

“You seem like you want to say something else,” You said, speaking aloud what you were picking up on. He was tense. He was stressed quite a bit, but rarely tense. Of course you were going to notice. And of course you were going to grow worried. “What is it?”

“Fuck,” He said, rubbing the space between his eyes, breaking off the contact. That alone told you something. It was something about you. He was having trouble saying it.

“Just say it, boy,” You said, nudging him in the stomach with your knee. He held your leg down now, so you wouldn’t be able to do it again. He was stronger than those little twig arms would have you believe.

“I really fucking hate it when you call me that,” He said, glaring at you then looked away quickly. You sighed, and started to massage your own neck.

“Well, we’re going to be joining the old Gods by the time that you finally say whatever it is,” You spoke a bit dramatically. But that was what it was going to take. He was worrying you. But if you showed that to him, he would just revoke whatever it was. He wouldn’t say it. He’d go on ranting so he would seem normal again.

“I never speak properly to you,” He said, like this was some sort of revelation.

“What do you mean?”

“All I do is talk about this fucking war, how annoying media is, how much I hate Shadow...”

“Well, yes, but those are big parts of your life, our lives right now,” You said, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Though you do seem really focused on Shadow Moon for some reason. You would feel a lot better if you just left that to Mr. World. You aren’t the only soldier in his army, after all.”

“Fucking right I’m not,” He grumbled.

His hands started to rub at your leg. It didn’t seem like he knew that he was doing it. His fingers made any tension that you were holding under your skin disappear. You weren’t about to start complaining. You smiled lazily, and moaned through your nose, enjoying it. He kept his eyes on you, watching you. “I need to tell you something,” He said, emphasizing the word need. You nodded, and decided to wait patiently this time. Clearly the pressure of earlier hadn’t worked.

He started to look like a fish that had been taken out of water. Or like a child in a school choir who forgot the words and was miming singing. “A little to the left,” You whispered, and his hands moved of their own volition, getting the sweet spot.

The room was preternaturally quiet. You did not keep clocks around in your house, so there wasn’t even the sound of one ticking.

“I -” He started, but then failed again. “Why do you have to make communicating so fucking hard sometimes? Isn’t it your job to make it easy?”

“I’m not trying to make it hard for you,” You said, watching him struggle. It hurt you a bit to see him that way. “Is there any other way that you could tell me?”

“What do you think I’m fucking doing here?” He asked. You pursed your lips and looked over all that he was doing. You took in all of those visual cues to try to understand what he was getting at. When it hit you, it hit you fast and by surprise. You hadn’t been expecting this message, let alone for it to be so loud and clear.

“And yet you still cannot say it?” You teased. It might have been malicious, he certainly thought that it was, but he smirked and looked away from you, focusing his attentions on the table.

“I ... love wine., He picked up your abandoned glass. There were still a few drops, clinging onto the bottom. Not enough to swirl but he attempted it anyway. You laughed lightly, and shook your head. Well, some people were better at other forms of commuication than others. Tech-Boys wasn’t verbal, as was becoming abundantly clear. But it was physical.

“Silly boy,” You said, moving in closer to him.

“Don’t fuckin-” He was going to complain about you calling him that once again, but you stopped him with a bit of physical communication of your own. A kiss, put on his lips from yours. It was enough to make him shut up for a moment. Right in the middle of a swear too, which was no small feat.

He kissed back with a hunger that had been growing in his stomach for weeks. It had started off with a small craving, like one that he got whenever he discovered a new drug out there. But then when he had tried to brush it off, wipe it out of his mind, focus on work, it grew and it grew. It became so large, that he didn’t even have the room to develop the words to make it happen. His body went on autopilot, doing the work for him.

There were sparks flying during this kiss - both literally and figuratively. Little bits of electricity shocked the skin of both of you, until it became almost too much to bear and you pulled away, giggling at all of these sensations.

“Are you always this premature, or am I just lucky?” You asked.

“You and your fucking teasing.”

“What can I say? It’s how I communicate.”

#Tech Boy #Tech Boy x reader #Tech Boy oneshot #American Gods #request #oneshot #techboy #x reader #American Gods oneshot

58 notes · View notes

astralalmighty · 4 years

Text

Here, have my version of “Jaskier gets kidnapped by Nifguarrd”

because i was bored

After the mountain, Jaskier spends a week drinking his sorrows and feeling rather pissed off, then he picks himself backs up and continues his life as a bard.

He stumbles upon Yennefer in a bar and they drink together, and then befriend each other.

They spend the next few months traveling on and off, getting each other out of sticky situations, and planning on how to find a baby for Yen.

Jaskier says kidnap one from a bad family, Yen is unsure if she would be satisfied knowing how she get the child.

They respect each other and become good friends, even affectionately nicknaming each other Yenna and Buttercup.

Yennefer eventually visits Istredd while she and Jaskier are apart, and goes to Sodden.

She is wounded badly releasing her chaos, and manages to portal herself to Jaskier, who helps her recover.

About a month after the Fall of Cintra, Nifguarrd places a bounty on Jaskier’s head.

Jaskier is kidnapped, and tortured for a month on the locations of Geralt and Ciri.

He says absolutely nothing for fear of accidentally giving any information.

Mind-reading spells don’t work on him for some unknown reason (cough cough he’s not human). The mages are baffled and Jaskier is thankful.

Yennefer has been in hiding, and manages to find Jaskier through Triss’s help.

They rescue him rather anticlimactically, and Yen helps Jaskier recover.

They eventually part ways, with Yen going to the other mages to help with the war, and Jaskier begins traveling alone, helping where he can.

Jaskier also begins hunting monsters and taking contracts as a source of income, and ends up stopping his singing altogether.

By now, it’s been three months after Cintra fell.

Jaskier becomes very strong and talented. He can fight and barter beautifully.

All the while, Yen and him remain in contact.

One night, a young girl attempts to steal from his camp.

He catches her, and realizes it’s Ciri.

She’s alone, and terrified. They bond, and while she never tells him who she is, Jaskier knows exactly who she is.

He never asks about Geralt, but makes a silent promise to protect her and raise her.

Eventually, she reveals she had been traveling with her father, but they had been attacked by bandits and she ran.

Jaskier strongly suspects it’s Geralt she’s referring to.

Yen is too weak to portal to them, but tells Jask she will get to them as soon as she can.

The two really bond, and grow into a father-daughter relationship, with lots of wonderful hair braiding because Jask has long hair and they both love hair.

One day, they’re attacked by Nifguarrdian soldiers and Ciri screams.

She managed to control her power enough to not harm Jaskier (cough cough non human), but she kills the soldiers.

Jaskier reveals he knows who she is and who Geralt is.

They continue traveling, and one day stumble across Geralt in an old inn.

Geralt and Ciri both cry, and Jaskier spends approximately three minutes feeling happy, then remembers how angry he is.

He tells Geralt he doesn’t want to talk to him about the past, but made a promise to protect Ciri and swears to keep that promise until his dying breath.

Geralt tells him he wants to talk to him and he wants them to travel together.

Jaskier spits out his ale after hearing that.

Once Ciri goes to sleep, Geralt apologizes. Jaskier asks for some time, which Geralt gives.

Jaskier doesn’t tell him about Nifguarrd, Geralt doesn’t ask.

Geralt has no idea that Jaskier was kidnapped, only that Jaskier has a few new scars, has long hair, wears simple clothing, can fight like hell, and is far more sexy than Geralt expected.

They travel to Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier and Ciri meet the wolves.

Yennefer eventually makes her way to Kaer Morhen, and Geralt will forever deny the confusion he felt when Jaskier and Yen ran to each other, embraced, and cried at their reunion.

The wolves, princess, mage, and former bard settle into a routine.

Yen trains Ciri in magic, Jaskier teaches her everything about academics (with help from Vesemir, Yen, and Eskel), the wolves train her and teach her to fight, and Ciri begins to find a new family.

Jaskier also begins sparring with the wolves, but refuses to remove his shirt.

Geralt never understands why.

Geralt does understand that Jaskier is very impressive with a sword and Geralt should seriously stop ogling him during training.

Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir love the bard, mage, and princess Geralt brought into their lives.

Drunken shenanigans. Amiright?

Often, Ciri has nightmares, and she goes to Jaskier when she can’t sleep. She knows about his nightmares and feels better when he comforts her.

Jaskier also has nightmares, but no one knows except Ciri and Yen.

Geralt feels a little detached when he learns of Ciri always going to Jask, but when he overhears then talking after a bad nightmare, he feels better knowing Jaskier is such an amazing father to her.

Yen and Ciri begin to have a mother-daughter bond.

Lambert and Eskel realize they’re becoming uncles, and Vesemir notices his presence as a grandfather.

One night, Geralt happens to awake late after caring for Roach, and overhears Jaskier having a nightmare. He doesn’t barge in, but he begins to suspect there’s more to Jaskier’s past.

He overhears more of Jaskier’s nightmares, and asks Yen about them, but she refuses to tell him.

Halfway through the winter, there’s a warm spell, and Jaskier volunteers to travel down the mountain and to get supplies.

Nifguarrd is after every Witcher, not just Geralt, and Yen needs to stay to protect Ciri.

Jaskier returns within two weeks with all the supplies and an injured arm.

He explains how there had been a contract for a kikimora, and he was injured when the monster fell on his arm after the fatal blow.

Geralt is shocked and angry that Jaskier would risk his life so recklessly, and Jaskier reply is, “It’s not like it was my first kikimora, Geralt.”

Needless to say, Geralt bluescreens.

Jaskier explains to Geralt part of his past, how he and Yen became friends, and how he began training and fighting after the Fall of Cintra.

He avoids, though, his time with Nifguarrd.

A few days later, and several months after Jask and Geralt met again, Jaskier forgives Geralt for the mountain and the years they spent in a one-sided relationship.

He knows Geralt is sorry and has changed as a person. He may have already moved on from the past, but it’s time he truly let go of all anger and bitterness he feels.

Geralt is relieved and thanks him.

Cut to the wolves drinking and Geralt drunkenly confessing his love for Jaskier and his brothers respond with, “We know how you look at him idiot, now go kiss him.”

Geralt panics and refuses.

Jaskier is unfortunately absent from this conversation.

Not much time after that, Geralt accidentally walks in on Jaskier bathing, and sees Jaskier’s scars.

Jaskier was whipped by Nifguarrd, and has numerous scars on his back.

Jaskier yells at Geralt to get out, and Geralt knows that there’s more to Jaskier’s past.

Geralt confronts Jaskier, and cautiously asks him if he knows the entire truth about Jaskier’s past.

Jaskier admits that Geralt doesn’t know everything and tells him about Nifguarrd. He keeps it brief.

Geralt is guilt-ridden, and confides with Yen.

She sighs, and says, “If Jaskier ever blamed you, he forgave you long before you ever even apologized. If he knew what the future would’ve been when you first met, that would’nt’ve stopped him from traveling with you. Also you two are very much in love just kiss already.”

Geralt is somewhat reassured.

A few days later, Jaskier has a very bad nightmare, and takes a walk. Geralt follows and finds him on one of the balcony things (idk architecture).

Jaskier knows that Geralt feels guilty, and convinces Geralt that what happened to him was never and never will be his fault. Geralt was guilty, but is now swayed by Jaskier’s words and actions.

Geralt thanks Jaskier for being there for him, and for forgiving him. Feeling rather bold now, he mentions how Jaskier had been trying to figure out what pleased him, and tells Jaskier he’s been thinking about this. He says, “I know what pleases me now, you.”

Jaskier asks Geralt if he’s reading this situation correctly, and Geralt tells him that Jaskier is a poet, and he trusts poet’s judgements. Jaskier laughs and tells Geralt that poets read situations whatever way they want to, regardless of the accuracy. Geralt responds by cupping Jaskier’s cheek and telling him he’s reading the situation correctly.

Jaskier kisses him under the stars. (FINALLY)

Geralt kisses back. (ABOUT TIME)

Annnnnd they fall into bed together. (I am not writing smut, no thank you, I am not risking that, we are gonna rate this Mature because of the violence, not because of any horny idiots in love).

Next morning: Lambert bursts into Geralt’s room in a panic, telling Geralt they’ve lost Jaskier and can’t find him.

Geralt says Jask is probably fine, and Lambert is not consoled, and continues to rant until Jaskier pops out of the blankets and demands what’s going on.

Needless to say, Geralt kicks Lambert out.

Lambert: We found the bard; Yen: Oh where was he?; Eskel: With Geralt; Lambert: More like under Geralt; Vesemir and Yen: ......; Yen: Fucking FINALLY; Ciri: Oh gross but I agree Yenna

(Yes this is how everyone finds out)

So yeah now these two are FINALLY in a relationship.

And everyone sorta falls into this big found family, and they spend their days training and learning, and their nights spending time together.

Jaskier even begins to sing again (much to Ciri’s, Geralt’s, and Yen’s urging).

Eventually, winter ends, and they need to decide if it’s safe for anyone to go out.

Yen gets in contact with Triss, who comes to Kaer Morhen.

Triss gives them a basic rundown of the war, and they all decide that Vesemir, Ciri, and Yen will stay at Kaer Morhen, while the rest of the wolves and Jask will continue traveling, but they all need to keep low profiles.

It ends with this set-up, and a final look at the mountain before the witchers and the bard part ways, all intent on returning home to their family by the next winter.

154 notes · View notes

amalia2003sstuff · 4 years

Text

A very uncommon name

This is the first prompt of Soulmate September . @tsshipmonth2020

Prompt: “Your soulmate’s name is written on your wrist/palm”

Human, High School AU

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, Familial Creativitwins, Platonic Dukexiety, Background Romantic Demus

Warning: Kissing, Self deprecating, Bit of swearing (F word)

‘Virgil ’

That was the name written in purple on Roman’s wrist for all his life. A very uncommon name if you were to ask him. ‘Why?’ you may ask, well it’s because Roman never met a person with that name yet, and trust him, he tried.

All his life, since he could remember, he tried finding someone with that name, to no use. He always tried to learn the name of every person he met, which was not that hard, considering he lived in a small town, but none of them were named Virgil.

By the time he and his brother got to high school, he kind of gave up on finding his soulmate, but Remus didn’t.

That’s how he ended up in this situation, with Remus gushing about his soulmate, whose name was Janus, that he met while at a football match at the high school of the neighbouring city. By this point Roman zoned out.

“- and we went to a small diner to get some food, and then Janus’ cousin from England called, his name is Virgil, and he said-”

That got Roman’s attention “Wait, wait, wait. Did you say Virgil? As in ‘the name of my soulmate’ Virgil?”

“Uh yeah, it’s the same name, but I didn’t ask about his soulmate. I didn’t want to be too invasive. Anyway, Janus’ cousin said that he is moving to America. And guess what? He and his family are moving in our town”

“No way! I can ask him then. When is he coming?”

“I think in a few weeks, I’m not sure. I didn’t ask for details, I was busy with - ”

“Do not finish that sentence" Roman said in a threatening way.

----

A few weeks passed, and Roman finally heard the kids in school talking about the new kid, which was a big thing.

Roman’s new mission, find the new kid, which turned out to not be as hard as he thought. Virgil was in Roman’s math class, and just as luck had it, the only spot left in class was to be Roman’s desk mate.

During the class, Roman kept glancing at Virgil’s wrists. He thought he wasn’t noticed, until Virgil had enough and finaly snapped at Roman in a hushed tone.

“What do you want?”

“I was just - I - I just wanted to see something” Roman stuttered

“And what might that be?” Virgil was now glaring at Roman

“Well-”

“Boys! You two can finish that discussion when class is over. Pay attention!” The teacher snapped

They turned back to their work.

When the bell rang, Roman grabbed Virgil’s arm, before he could leave the class “Please come with me. I have to tell you something”

“Will you leave me alone after that?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes” Roman dragged him out of the classroom, to one that was completely empty.

“I think you’re my soulmate” Roman rushed out without waiting a single moment.

“Uh... look mate, you seem like a nice guy, but you’re not my soulmate”

“Just let me see your wrist” Roman huffed.

“Fine” Virgil pulled up his sleeve.

“Ha! I knew it!” Roman cheered.

“You’re my soulmate... What the heck, universe?!”

“Not the reaction I was hoping for...”

“Look, Roman,” Virgil sighed “you seem like a nice person, but you are not my type. This is a mistake”

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes, Virgil, at least give me a chance. We could get to know eachother, and if you still don’t want me to be your soulmate, I will leave you alone."

"Promise?" Virgil asked skeptically.

"I promise. Just give me one chance. Just a few weeks" Roman pleaded.

"Fine. You have two weeks. Don't make me regret it" And with that Virgil grabbed his things and left the classroom.

----

For the next two weeks, Roman would keep leaving gifts for Virgil, and if Virgil smiled and blushed the tiniest bits every time, it was his problem, and his problem alone. It's not like he kept all of them on the dresser in his room, without letting anyone touch them. No. Of course not.

In addition to the gifts, Roman would also throw in random rounds of twenty questions at lunch "To get to know eachother better" he would always say, and Virgil couldn't help but play along. It was ado- annoying in a fun way, if you were to ask him.

Right now, Virgil managed to get a break from Roman, and hang out with his cousin and his soulmate, who also happened to be Roman's brother.

"So" Janus started "How are things going with Roman?"

"As good as they can go. He keeps trying to make me like him, but..." Virgil trailed off.

"But?" Remus asked.

"But what if I'm not good enough for him. He's a nice person. He doesn't deserve to be stuck with someone like me for the rest of his life" He brought his knees up to his chest "He's kind and funny, and talented, and - and cute, and I'm... me"

"You're a fucking idiot" Remus said "Roman has been gushing about you since he even knew you were coming here - it's making me sick to be honest - and you think he wouldn't want to be with you?"

"Remus is right - surprisingly - you should really give this relationship a chance. I'm sure you won't regret this."

"I hope... Because I kind of have a date with him tonight" Virgil mumbled.

"Then tell him. Now come on" Janus pulled him off the bed "It's already 5pm. Go take a shower and me and Remus will pick an outfit for you that doesn't look like you just came from a funeral" He pushed Virgil into the bathroom without leaving room for argument.

----

Half an hour later Virgil peaked his head out of the bathroom, only for Janus to push an outfit into his arms and push him back inside.

"J, Remus, I don't think this outfit is a good idea" He shouted through the door after taking one look at the outfit.

"Just try it on. Trust us, you will look hot as hell" Remus shouted back.

Virgil resigned himself to his faith and put the outfit on, then walked out of the bathroom. He was dressed in black ripped jeans, with a purple crop top and a leather jacket on top of it. A pair of black combat boots was waiting for him by his bed.

"Good. Now sit" Janus instructed, pointing to a chair.

Virgil sat down and Janus started working on his makeup, while Remus worked on his hair.

They both pulled away from Virgil and high fived, right as the door bell rang.

"Well looks like your future boyfriend is here." Remus said "Have fun making out."

"We won't do that Remus" Virgil pulled his boots on, then Janus pushed him out of the room.

Virgil walked to the front door, took a few deep breaths, then opened it. "Hi..."

"Hey, Virgil. Are you ready to go?" Roman asked. He was wearing jeans, with a red button up shirt and red shoes.

"Yeah, but where are we going?" V asked.

"That's a surprise. Now come on." Roman gently took Virgil's hand and brought him to his car, opening the passanger door for him, before going and getting into the driver's seat.

----

Five minutes of driving later, they were pulling into the parking lot of the park.

Roman got out of the car and hurried to open the door for Virgil, then went and got something out of the trunk.

"A picnic?" V asked.

"Uh... Yeah. I know you don't like crowded spaces, so I thought this would be a good first date...Do you not like it?" Roman asked, sounding a bit unsure.

"It's perfect." Virgil smiled "Thank you."

"Oh ok. Come on. I know the perfect spot." Roman took Virgil's hand again and took him to the top of a hill, where they could see the sunset. He let go of Virgil's hand then layed out everything he brought.

----

After they ate a bit and making a bit of small talk, they were just sitting and watching the sunset.

Virgil was biting his lip anxiously, which Roman noticed.

"Is everything ok?" He asked "Is it the picnic? Was it too much?"

"I was just thinking." Virgil answer without looking at Roman.

"About?" Roman asked.

Virgil thought for a few seconds, then, before he could chicken out, turned and kissed Roman, which Roman returned after a few seconds.

When they pulled away, Roman was smiling "Well not the answer I was expecting, but I'm not mad that this happened. Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?"

"Hate you? Princey I never hated you. I just thought... I thought that I wasn't good enough for you. You're the perfect popular guy and I'm just the emo."

"Virgil, you're not just the emo. Not to me. These two weeks I got to know you, and you're more that your looks. You're snarky and sassy and funny and just so adorable. I really can't even put into words how cute you are. I- I love you, and I want to be your boyfriend, only if you want this too."

Virgil giggled "Are you kidding me? Of course I want to be your boyfriend!"

Roman smiled and kissed him again.

----

He may have gotten home and started ranting about the date to Remus, but that's entirely his problem. He was just happy he finally found his soulmate.

#remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #romantic prinxiety #platonic dukexiety #familial creativitwins #kissing cw #tsshipmonth2020 #deceit sanders #janus sanders #self deprecation #swearing cw #soulmate september

86 notes · View notes

cle1024 · 4 years

Text

drunk in love | hjs

member: han jisung

genre: angst

summary: jisung is a lightweight; no matter what kind of alcohol he ingests, he somehow manages to become completely obliterated in minutes. as his best friend, you tend to take on the duty of taking care of him during his inebriated moments, even if it hurts you in the process. friends to lovers!au, college!au

warnings: swearing, alcoholism, brief mention of drug use

a/n: credit to @str9ykids for the gif <3 this is kind of friends to lovers, kind of complicated

Han Jisung was a great guy; he was talented, creative, intelligent, passionate, charismatic, entertaining. There was a genuine care held within his eyes that most orbs missed, even in moments of honesty and loyalty, an underlying message whenever he spoke with someone about their hardships. He always seemed to understand and sympathise with people who ranted to him as a form of therapy, always willing to listen to whatever was on their mind regardless of how minute the issue. The only downfall you’d found in your time knowing him was his inability to know his limits. There had been numerous occasions of overworking himself, as well as breakdowns after trying to bottle up all his problems and emotions until he cracked under the immense pressure. Of course you were always there to pick up the pieces, that’s what friends do, and he was always there to thank you in the long run. Though, there was one particular limit of Jisung’s that even he was conscious of: his inability to hold any form of alcohol. Despite being strong in both mental and physical ways, the boy was an undeniable lightweight. Every morning after a night of drinking he’d wake with a splitting headache, downing a glass of water and painkillers you’d left for him, but he never changed his ways. At first, you’d brushed it off as a bad habit, perhaps an early and worrying sign of alcohol addiction. Over time you’d started to wonder if there was an underlying reason he allowed himself to become absolutely obliterated, his mind seemingly detached from his body as he stumbled around whatever party or club he’d found himself in.

Even if he was mentally strong, he had his moments of weakness―it’s human nature, after all. Those moments where his walls crumbled and he shed tears of stress, anger, raw and unrelenting sadness. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of secrets lied beneath his emotional shield, only reaching the surface in those rare moments of giving out under immense pressure. As much as you wanted to pry, Jisung was just too damn good at keeping secrets. Everything was brushed off with a laugh and joke about how you’re going soft on him, but he was always thankful for your concern nonetheless. Nothing ever erased your concern; Jisung continued his destructive drinking habits and secretive behaviour. Even when you saw the occasional slip-ups and heard the drunken babbles of “I wish I could tell you the truth” before he knocked out, Jisung was far too good at lying about his feelings to have you take it as anything other than a bad day. So, you moved on from the questions about his emotions and just took on the duty of taking care of him when he was wasted beyond belief. Things would be easier that way, wouldn’t they? You’d put him to bed, stay the night, leave water and painkillers before leaving his dorm. Then you’d see him in one of your classes looking like he crawled from the depths of Hell and tell him all the embarrassing things he did in his drunken state. That’s how things were supposed to go, but some slip-ups just can’t go unacknowledged.

Jisung didn’t think he had a drinking problem, but he also didn’t know how to deal with his problems. Drinking until he was numb and venturing another realm always seemed like a good choice until he made more mistakes in his drunken and gave himself new reasons to abuse his liver. Some mistakes were worse than others; deciding to wear a white shirt when he knew he couldn’t keep a steady hand after drinking, listening to the encouragement of his friends―almost as drunk―and attempting to jump from one side of someone’s pool to the other, as well as other injury-inducing actions. Though one of his worst mistakes was one that came about during a sober mindset. It wasn’t a decision, necessarily, so does it really count as a mistake? Regardless, Jisung found himself tangled up in emotions he shouldn’t be feeling. He shouldn’t want to kiss you, his best friend―that’s all you were, after all, a friend. Yet the urge withstood his relentless berating, his drunken kisses with other people who’d never given him a name to call them by, its persistence drove him to the brink of desperation. Knowing that you would never feel the same way ― or, rather, assuming you would never reciprocate such feelings ― pushed him over the edge, and he found himself tumbling down a dark hole of irreversible mistakes, fabricated feelings and verbal mishaps. Though, in the end, it didn’t matter what Jisung did to forget about his feelings or have them blossom for someone else, it was something he could never get out of his head. He drank to forget but he always remembered, and now he was falling far beyond return.

“Hey, baby,” you rolled your eyes at your friend’s words. That was another habit Jisung had, aside from excessive drinking, he often said things he didn’t mean. He played with words, took their meaning and stripped them down to platonic nouns and adjectives. It bothered you to no end, mainly because you could never figure out when he was being serious and when he was teasing, it all blended into one neutral speech. You hummed in response, eyes remaining focused on the bright screen of the laptop in front of you. A huff escaped Jisung’s lips, slightly unimpressed with your lack of interest, “good to see you too,” he deadpanned. There was always something about you that drew Jisung in. Perhaps your appearance, personality, thought patterns, interests, passion―it was evidently more than one thing. Your presence was a soothing hug in the midst of a ferocious storm, easing worries with a simple smile or comment about the weather, a habit he’d always found endearing. Now that he thought about it, he can’t remember the first time he noticed it. Frankly, he couldn’t even remember the first time he noticed you, but he was always grateful his brown orbs caught sight of you and not someone else. You were the kind of friend anyone would yearn for, loyal, understanding, helpful, appreciative. There was a lot he could praise you for, but there simply isn’t enough time within the average human lifespan. There were many other things Jisung couldn’t remember about you: when did you become his sober caretaker on drunken nights, his closest friend, his favourite design major, his first true love? Many things had happened in Jisung’s life that had simply slipped his memory, he liked to blame it on his over-drinking habit and found it to be bothersome, but nothing ever changed. He still chugged such liquids like the sun wouldn’t rise above the horizon the following day; he knew that one day it wouldn’t. Though, he also knew that one day the alcohol excuse would stop working. At some point he’d have to face the damage he’d done, internally and externally, and the mistakes he’d made under the ‘influence’ of alcohol. Someday it would all come crashing down and he hadn’t a clue how to deal with it. He shook off the depressing thought, it was something he could worry about in time, when that day inevitably comes. That day is not today.

“Plans for tonight?” He questioned eagerly, leaning on his crossed arms as you tapped your keyboard in thought. Your nose scrunched slightly as you pondered the question, a soft smile appearing on Jisung’s pink lips as you did so.

“Study, but I’m assuming that’s going to change to taking care of your drunk ass?” An amused smile graced your features as Jisung narrowed his eyes in your direction.

“I mean, yeah, but what’s wrong with that?” the boy sounded thoroughly insulted, “best friends take care of each other!”

“Yes, but I wasn’t aware they also vomit on each other’s carpet. You’re so lucky I got that out or your ass would be grass, Han,” he held up his hands in surrender with wide eyes. Of course you weren’t holding a grudge against him―not anymore, at least―but you always got a kick out of bringing up one of Jisung’s most embarrassing moments, “where are you headed?”

“Hyunjin’s, his frat is throwing a party at nine,” as per usual. You had nothing against Hyunjin or the frat he was in, in fact you found both to be tolerable and quite welcoming in comparison to cinematic portrayals, but the parties they threw were another story. Loud, rowdy, chaotic, illegal. You weren’t sure how no one had called with noise complaints, or how no one had been carted off to a holding cell for doing cocaine off someone’s ass, but there were some questions you didn’t really want answers to. Another reason you hated their parties specifically was the alcohol. There was so much of it, a never ending fountain of mind-numbing concoctions to go around, and of course that meant dealing with a very, very, wasted Han Jisung.

You huffed slightly, “just don’t drink too much. For once.”

“I won’t, I promise!” Jisung slaps a hand against the table in excitement before picking up his backpack and bidding goodbye, rushing off to his next class. That was another thing that irritated you about Jisung, he was a damn liar.

The bass thumped throughout the house, strobe lights blinding you and energetic partygoers blocking your path. Jisung was amongst them you assumed―you arrived at the party two hours after it started, purely because you were dreading the crowded environment. In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood for a party tonight, but you were here for Jisung’s sake. You found yourself in the midst of drunken parties for said reason quite often. Jisung was a drunken mess, borderline alcoholic, and most of his friends lacked the sobriety or responsibility to take care of him in such a state. Thus, you took on the role of Jisung’s ‘caretaker’, as Seungmin once put it. Your thoughts were broken by a drunk Jisung stumbling in your direction, eyes rolling slightly at the sight. Here we go.

“Y/N!” He cheered, dragging out the last letter of your name before hiccuping slightly. You opened your mouth to respond, only to be shut down by Jisung’s hand around your wrist and voice in your ear, “come on! Let’s dance!”

He attempted to tug on your wrist, weakened by the alcohol in his body. You saw Changbin approaching from the corner of your eye, the male smiling sympathetically and gesturing to Jisung, “he’s already so far gone, party only started an hour ago.”

“Go figure.”

Changbin chuckled lightly, “yeah, he seemed to want to get his mind off something,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “he should probably be getting home. I’ve had a few, will you be alright to get him home?”

You nodded stiffly. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but a feeling in your gut warned you something was going to happen if you did. Something bad―but perhaps that was just the stench of alcohol churning your stomach.

When did Jisung become so damn heavy? Perhaps it was when he stopped using his legs to help you drag him into your apartment. You would’ve taken him back to his apartment―you should have taken him back to his apartment―but his roommate wasn’t exactly the most empathetic when the boy was absolutely obliterated, or painfully hungover. Besides, his apartment block had so many stairs. A breath of relief passed your lips as you dropped Jisung on your bed, moving his legs so his full body was laid out comfortably.

“Sleep on your side, I’ll go get you a bucket,” you advised as Jisung hummed groggily and shifted his position. Your footsteps were gentle along the dark floorboards as you crept towards the cupboard, scavenging for the blue bucket you often used when mopping the floors. After placing the bucket next to the bed, you shuffled towards the kitchen to retrieve a cold glass of water and a headache tablet―Jisung always managed to give himself a sore head before he even reached the hangover stage, you’d give him another in the morning for the inevitable and monstrous hangover. Jisung breathed gently with half-lidded eyes, brown orbs following you as you pulled the blankets up to his chin. The warmth flooded his exhausted body, ensuring his warmth throughout the note. As you shifted the blanket to cover him fully, the words just came spilling out. His voice was soft, almost a murmur when he spoke.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your body went frigid at the words. Of course he meant it in a platonic sense, he must have meant it in a platonic sense, but he’d never said those three words before―not to you, nor to one of his ex-partners, as far as you knew. Han Jisung wasn’t the type to throw such a word around so flippantly. His brown eyes stared into yours, causing you to shift your gaze intentionally, “y-yeah, love you too, ‘Sung.”

The boy shook his head dramatically, “no, no, no. I love you as more than a friend,” he exclaimed with an emphasis on the ‘more’. A heavy silence fell in the air as you stayed silent. All words escaped you in that moment; what could you say? Was it untruthful, drunken slurs or a genuine confession? Jisung’s borderline whisper sliced through the silence, “I know you don’t feel the same.”

Pushing the hair off his forehead, you offered a small smile, “we can talk about this when you’re sober. Goodnight, Jisung.”

With those words, you flicked the lamp off and exited the room, gently shutting the door behind you. Jisung shifted his legs in search of comfort, eyes lowering as he mulled over your words. Even in his drunken state he could feel his heart tear at the realisation that you didn’t, and would likely never, reciprocate his romantic feelings. By the time morning had come, both of you had decided to pretend the words were never spoken.

Saying that things between you and Jisung had been… off after that night was the epitome of an understatement. For two people who were almost attached at the hip, considered one another family and had an unfathomable amount of loyalty and trust within one another, awkward glances and avoidance were weird. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been made between the two of you ― smile if you have to, then fucking leg it. Don’t talk to one another, don’t make an effort to see one another, and certainly don’t talk about the drunken words that spewed from Jisung’s mouth. To distract yourself from the absence in your life, and heart, you threw yourself into your studies, though that only seemed to be a temporary fix as you swiftly burnt out. The two of you had a mutual friend, Somi, who you’d confided in after it was clear things with Jisung could never go back to normal. She’d helped as much as she could, took you out of your familiar bedroom to cozy cafes and blooming parks in the middle of town you’d somehow never seen. When she suggested a night out, another frat party of a friend’s-friend, a part of you cried in resistance. Everytime you’d gone to a college you ended up hauling Jisung’s wasted ass into a car and sobering him up before he slept, what were you to do now? You didn’t want to see him either, and it seemed to be inevitable considering how Jisung spent his nights―perhaps he would spend that upcoming night at the party, drinking to forget the friction between him and his best friend. You certainly were.

There was a part of you that understood why Jisung allowed himself to be thrown into a night of nonsensical drunken thoughts and gravitationally difficulties. At this point, you weren’t certain how long you had been within the frat house, each pulse of the bass and change in coloured lighting seemed to blur together in an almost nauseating succession. In all honesty, you weren’t even certain if Somi was still on the dance floor or if she had, as did you, found a stray wall to lean against as she recomposed herself and figured out how to stand without wobbling. You hadn’t seen Jisung, but you had seen Changbin, so you assumed the younger was there too―the two had some sort of tradition of getting shitfaced together, probably because they shared the same stress over music production and assignments put aside for far too long. There was a ruckus sounding in the room you stood in ― it wasn’t the main room, where everyone danced far too close for comfort and shared sweat, but it was a mainly empty space near the stairs that gave you a clear view of the partygoers. It sounded as if a drunken scuffle had started on the second floor, probably inebriated douchebags with low anger tolerance and a great sense of entitlement―the kind of people who have the immediate instinct to jump on a foldable table after two drinks. Though as you turned your head, you were met with the sight of people who you knew were far from that―though, they had their moments. Changbin and Jisung, stood near the head of the stairs, in the midst of an apprehensive affray of glares and seething words. They looked tense, yet Changbin still stumbled back when Jisung gave him a harsh shove, and then another, and another. You weren’t in the right sober frame of mind to stick to acknowledge the unspoken deal to not interact with Jisung. Instead, you were tipsy and figured Jisung was too far gone ― you’d never known him to be angry or violent, maybe he truly had been drowning himself in booze to forget his words to you. Maybe that’s why they were arguing, Changbin wanted him to stop drinking. Pushing yourself from the wall with a newly gained sense of sobriety, you made your way to the second floor to intervene before things could blow out of proportion.

“Knock it off, ‘Sung,” you'd spoken, standing in front of Changbin and gently pushing Jisung away.

“It’s no use, Y/N, he’ll never change,” Changbin snided. Jisung scoffed.

“Changbin, stop.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. How far has your advice gotten me, Changbin? Look how fucked up everything got!” What was going on? Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Jisung’s dark eyes, glossed over with either tears or a drunken haze, trailed from Changbin to you, a bitter smile on his face. “And you, I don’t need you to constantly hover around. God, you act like my mother or something, it’s suffocating!” Words couldn’t pass your lips as you struggled to wrap your head around the situation at hand, “you know- you know how often I drink without you babying me? In fact, tonight was going perfectly fine until this fuckwit,” he gestured at Changbin angrily, the older scowling, “came along. It’s not the alcohol you need to keep me away from, it’s you!”

It felt as if everything paused in that moment. The music no longer vibrated in your chest, you couldn’t hear the cars moving around outside as people joined and left the party. All you could hear was Jisung’s words echoing in your ears, and all you could see was every time you had taken him home from a party, every painkiller and glass of water you set out for him. You had wasted so much time on a boy who couldn’t give a shit about you, and for what? Were you even friends? There was a lot you wanted to say, but what was the point? He wouldn’t listen, he’d continue to yell at you for trying to tell him otherwise, trying to talk him into something he’s not. As tears glossed your eyes, you turned away from Jisung and rapidly made your way down the stairs. The two males remained in their spots, the regret settling in Jisung’s chest as the gap between the two of you extended. An even heavier weight tugged on his already cracked heart―as if it had dropped from his chest to his stomach. It was a stupid plan, one he hadn’t thought through in the slightest, and a small part of him hoped that would play in his favour. Everything he spat was a damn lie, everything he pretended to feel was a fabrication. Everything was an excuse to stop himself from being in love with his best friend―you knew him better than anyone else, you knew what he was like when he was drunk and yet it still worked. That overwhelming sensation that came over him when tears glazed your eyes, one that made him want to give up the stupid plan, tell you “hey, it was a stupid dare! I’m sober!” But he couldn’t put this stupidity on anyone else. He won’t have to see you again after causing you so much pain, right? Please God, let him be right.

It was often in the inebriated moments of his life that Jisung worried about whether he was being too candid with what he was saying, consequently saying the wrong thing. And yet, in the most sober mindset in a while, he’d managed to find the perfect words to do exactly that. He couldn’t quelm the guilt in his chest―what a stupid fucking plan.

Somehow, much to his horror, Jisung had managed to tangle himself in an even more intricate web of lies, starting as soon as he caved on his plan of ‘hating you’. Rather than allowing the distance to grow, watch you fizzle into an imperceptible face in the crowd as his heart finally unravelled from around you, his slim body had stood in front of your dorm to pretend he couldn’t remember anything. You believed him with hesitance, as far as he knew, and Jisung spent another night drinking his guilt away. The following week, Jisung started to embrace his unravelling life―it felt as if Yeah Right by Joji was constantly playing as he lived deceptively. His plans to get over you had gone from spouting absolute bull shit in your face to spouting absolute bull shit to someone else; namely, Gaeun. Truthfully, he knew nothing about her beyond her partying habits ― he met her at one of many parties, let her dance all over him as she stared at some other guy who was clearly uninterested, and agreed to have the title of her boyfriend. He had told himself it was under the guise of getting over you, pretending she was the true recipient of the immense love that bloomed for your taking. Though, he still wasn’t sure if he believed that. He didn’t like Gaeun―not in the way a boyfriend would, at least―but it was better than being alone. Jisung was getting sick of being alone, and, for once in his life, no drink could quelm the dissatisfaction of being quite distressingly destitute.

When Jisung had told you of his relationship with Gaeun, you were taken aback. He talked about her with an admiration that you were almost unfamiliar with, one you would never expect to hear from Jisung. Especially considering he’d never mentioned her before, yet seemed to be so desperately infatuated. She shone like the sun, as far as he was concerned, the best thing since sliced bread. You knew of Gaeun―she was nice, that was it. There was an essence of certainty in your soul that she was a lovely person, but something about her and Jisung was just… off. It was a match that would seemingly make sense on paper ― two fun-loving, regular partygoers in a spontaneous and exuberant relationship ― but it was so wrong in person. It wasn’t something you’d been exposed to up close, just in passing and at the occasional get-together Somi had convinced you to attend on a mopey Friday night. There was that part of you that entirely denied the relationship altogether―it was a lie, just like everything else had been telling you recently, right? First he tells you he loves you, then he hates you, then he’s in a relationship with some unmentioned girl he’s been pining after for months? It was off. But people act bizarre when they’re drunk, don’t they? You weren’t so sure anymore.

It wasn’t the break up that surprised you, it was Jisung’s reaction. He’d stumbled over to your place, alcohol wafting off his breath as he slurred something along the lines of “she’s left me, she’s joined them” before making his way into the living room. As far as you could coax from him, between the begs for him to stop drinking and dumping empty bottles in your lounge room, Gaeun had approached Jisung with a revenge plot. When all was said and done, when she had finally got what she wanted, she blurted the plan to Jisung with a promise that it was ‘nothing personal’. Gaeun never truly liked him, sure he was cute, but she just wanted someone to pay attention to her. Someone to fill that void her ex-boyfriend―that guy she always stared at while with Jisung, the one who never seemed interested―had left, before he fell victim to her plot and came back to her. Then everything would be back to normal, right? Jisung didn’t care about that, he was doing the same in a way. They were in ‘love’ for the wrong reasons, and he was almost certain Gaeun knew that when Jisung agreed to date her―he didn’t have to say it, but the way he radiated around you was almost obnoxiously clear. Maybe that’s why she chose him, she knew he wouldn’t take it personal. Jisung didn’t care about her reasoning, honestly, that wasn’t what had him downing alcohol to conceal his stress and sorrows. Instead, it was the crushing feeling he felt from the universe, the one that screamed “now you have to tell the truth” that was haunting him. It left him shit faced on your couch, vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. Somehow, despite everything he had done, Jisung knew the worst was yet to come.

“She never loved me, did she?” he chuckled bitterly from his spot on the couch. Uncertain of how to respond, you stared at him pitifully. His soft brown eyes, glistening under the reflection of the flickering lamp rose to meet your own, “do you love me, Y/N?”

“W-what?”

Jisung stumbled to his feet. He had thought this was the right thing to do, to tell the truth, but instead it just made him feel even worse about deceiving you for so damn long, “have you ever loved me?”

“Of course I do, Ji. You’re my best friend.”

“I-I mean as more than that,” a thick silence clouded the air, “please,” he uttered in a broken voice. A sigh was caught in your throat as your lungs constricted; you felt a sense of déjà vu, everything was happening again―everything was going to end up as shitty as last time.

“Jisung, you’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight.”

Gosh, Jisung had never spoken with such anguish in his life, “when you’re drunk you think honestly.”

“No you don’t!” you burst, startling the boy as a cluster of tears covered your eyes, “the last time you were drunk you told me to stay away from you, that I suffocated you. So what the fuck is it, Jisung?” The considerable silence hung heavily in the air, laying against your chest in a way that had you almost struggling to breathe, gasping for breath as you attempted to hold onto some grip of reality. You sniffled gently, “I can’t keep running in circles with you. I can’t keep doing this.”

The two of you had argued before, you’d been friends for a notable period after all, but it had never left you this way. Neither of you had ever been stunned into silence by the stinging reality of the other’s words, nor had you pleaded for the other’s understanding with a sense of almost embarrassing desperation. But your minor squabbles and bickering never had earth-shattering revelations; there were never any consequences until now. That was the difference.

“I love you, Y/N. You know that, don’t you?” he blubbered, almost pleading that you confirm his beliefs.

“No,” it came out softly, uttered with hesitance, “I don’t.”

There was more you needed to say, more about the unrelenting love you had held for such a long time, but you no longer knew how to word it. It felt as if none of it even mattered anymore, as if you waited until you were an adult to fix a toy you had broken as a child―what was the point?

“I love you, Jisung,” there was something in his eyes that changed, almost lit up at the revelation that you truly did feel the same. Yet, at the same time, it seemed as if something shifted in his head. It felt as if he knew there was no salvaging this relationship, he had tugged you beyond the brink of extinction. You struggled to keep looking in his eyes―that look, that bright and almost hopeful look, god it killed you, “but I can’t be with you if you can’t let yourself feel the same.”

If Han Jisung was still pursuing the plan to push you away, he had succeeded. No, he certainly wasn’t over you―truthfully, he never thought he could be―but you had faded significantly. You were a slightly blurred face in some of his best memories, the hesitant suppression of a smile if eyes ever met. You were no longer the one he was in love with, his best friend, the person to take care of him when he was drunk―and Changbin still refused to uphold that position. Instead, you were a has-been. Once, you were his best friend. Once, you were constantly left to take care of him in his inebriated state. Once―no, still―you were the one he fell tempestuously in love with. Now, you faded from him as if you were a reverse polaroid picture. That defectless, perfect image of you by his side with a smile of genuine happiness, radiating with the potential to bloom into something even more beautiful. Even so, the contingency withered. It crumbled at his fingertips, slipping from his grasps as he continued to spiral deeper into his feelings.

When he thought of love prior to his experience, Jisung believed it was something almost indescribable―that belief he continues to maintain―and the heartbreak that often followed was just as puzzling. Questions of what went wrong, what should have been said sooner, why did it end up this way―he didn’t question it one bit. He knew the answers, they lied in his questionable and remorseful actions, the ones he regretted as soon as he formulated a plan to execute them. He was confident he could minimise it to less words than necessary, exclude the pivotal details and self-judgement of every time he overtly fucked up―he knew exactly what went wrong. By the time he felt compelled to re-offer the truth, he had so inexplicably failed to acknowledge the consequences.

As he brought the glass bottle to his lips, the male graciously allowed the alcohol to burn his throat, as if it would override his emotional pain he felt from the aftermath of his bitter-tasting decisions. Han Jisung was just too late.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids scenario #han jisung #han #han jisung scenarios #han jisung scenario #han scenarios #han scenario #skz #han jisung angst #han angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #skz scenario #skz scenarios #skz han

88 notes · View notes

fo4companionmusings · 6 years

Note

Romanced companions (+ Kent and Edward) finding out Sole was an actress Pre-War and was set to play the Mistress of Mystery on the Silver Shroud show?

I’ll do the boys you requested first and as far as I know, I remembered everyone! Someone let me know if I forgot anything. 😭

Kent: They were just sitting in his room in the Memory Den, chatting to themselves, when Kent mentioned the Mistress of Mystery. It reminded the Sole Survivor of something she’d long since forgotten. “You…? You almost did WHAT?” Kent’s eyes immediately lit up and he started digging around through some files. He pulled out some of his Mistress of Mystery photos and held them up to her. “This… You’re so beautiful! I think you’d make an even better Mistress of Mystery! You… basically we’re her! Granted, I’ve thought about it before, but I… I never!” She gave him a quick kiss and looked at the pictures herself.

Edward: Edward’s face turned in to a look of confusion instantly. “You were… a what? Actress? Shit, that makes sense.” The Sole Survivor pressed herself against his side and continued listening to him talk. “Silver Shroud and everything? That’s not really my thing, but I can’t imagine what being famous was like. Closest thing now is infamous, ya know?” “I know.” She answered and coincidentally pulled out a magazine she was in that she’d manage to find in the rubble. “You really haven’t aged a day, have you?”

Hancock: He’s absolutely amazed, but not to Kent’s extent. “God, wish we still had cool shit like that now. All we have is Magnolia. Not that she’s bad—“ He stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at the Sole Survivor. “You wanna act out somethin’ for me sometime? Costume and all? I’ll be your Silver Shroud any day, baby.” She laughed and kissed him, Hancock being totally unaware that while scouring Hubris, not only did she find the Silver Shroud and Grognak costumes, she found the costume she was supposed to wear during her role.

Deacon: “Oh god, please tell me you still have that suit. Wait, did they give it to you? Doesn’t matter. I could recreate it lickety split.” He ranted on and on. They were in downtown Boston, mid-fight, when she said one of the iconic lines. It then proceeded in to a long discussion for more about Sole’s past while they tried to stay alive. Later, after a few months of effort, he finally found and salvaged materials and made the Mistress of Mystery costume.

Danse: He didn’t really care too much about it. What bothered him though, was finding the Sole Survivor in some old pinups too. He was never interested in comics or the thought of television. “Is.. this you?” “Yeah….” It was a bit awkward between them for a while relationship-wise because the entirety of the Brotherhood of Steel probably thought about her at least once on a long shift.

Preston: Not really surprised. He cherished her, so it made sense that other people pre-war appreciated her talents too. “That’s… So cool!” He said, scooping her in to a hug. “I’m so lucky to have someone so talented in my life.” Whenever she felt down from there on out, he’d bring it up. Preston loved talking about how beautiful she was.

Old Longfellow: Could not give less of a crap about the past. He also hardly understood what TV really was. He’d never seen a working one in his life time so Sole decided to then find someone to fix one up for him or do it herself. “It’s cooler than you think, I promise.” She told him. His grumpy old self still wasn’t convinced.

Note: I’m not saying Gage is stupid by any means! I love him and I got to thinking that he maybe he wouldn’t have known how to read super well!

Gage (PERSONAL HEADCANON): Gage isn’t able to read super well, but he enjoyed comics rather secretly because they were mostly pictures. Sole helped him get it down better when they weren’t busy with other things. He secretly really appreciated it and appreciates her as the Mistress of Mystery more! The prospect of seeing her on TV would have been something rather exciting for him.

Maxson: Similar situation to Danse. He’d seen comic books before and knew about TVs from their technology searches in the BoS, but it had never occurred to him who she was and what she was going to do in her past life. “It’s.. Interesting?” He tried to sound intrigued when she told him, but in the new world, that sorta thing had just lost all meaning to the majority of people.

MacCready: “Holy shit!!!” Was all he could say. Over and over. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere when we met.. Honey, HOLY. SHIT.” He pulled out once of his comics hesitantly and then dragged her to his room where he had a Mistress of Mystery poster. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was going to be you? I wish we still had TV sometimes, fuc-“ She gasped at him swearing and he immediately tucked his comic book back in to his jacket in shame.

X6-88: He’d heard of comic books and TV and everything, but was never free to look at any of that. It was hard for him to try and show his interest when the Sole Survivor told him. “I can’t say I’ve heard of that ma’am,” He said. “But it sounds like you enjoyed that part of your life quite a bit, so if you find it interesting, I do too.” The Sole Survivor was a bit bummed at his response, but she dealt with it because X6’s emotions weren’t like everyone else’s.

Nick: He laughed a bit when she told him. “Guess we really are quite a team then. Does that make me the Silver Shroud?” She nodded and made him wear the outfit once just to see how it would have been. “Can I see some pictures or didn’t the show get that far?” She obliged him and handed over a few of the stills that’s they’d done in the old film noir style. “Can I keep one of those?”

Piper: Super stoked. She wrote a piece about it in the paper. “Silver Shroud— Actually Mistress of Mystery, Details Inside!” The Sole Survivor became the y’all of Diamond City again with that article. Piper was broad of her significant other beyond comprehension and spouted about how she was the girlfriend of the Mistress of Mystery for MONTHS.

Cait: Didn’t particularly care one was or another, but wanted to help remind the Sole Survivor of her past if it helped her with anything she may be dealing with. “Darling, Mistress of Misery—“ “Mystery, Cait.” “Mystery, sure, or not, you’re still as beautiful then as you are now.” That was as mushy as she got though for the time being, and left it at that.

Curie: “You.. Did what? Oh how lovely!” She took the old picture from Sole and examined it closely. “Can I keep this? We can use this to help examine how you’ve maintained over the years? If you want! Sorry.. I’m getting carried away. It’s all very intriguing!” Sole reassured her that it was okay and that she would definitely help her with the research.

119 notes · View notes

cosmichobi · 7 years

Text

Clandestine | 02

College AU || Hoseok x Reader || Fluff || Angst || Smut

After getting caught in the most compromising position of all, you find yourself involved in a scheme to break Jung Hoseok’s heart. How far are you willing to go to keep a secret?

Word Count: 3.6k

01 |

“Have I ever told you my theory about the correlation between a person’s favourite sex position and their favourite flower?”

You looked up, not believing that those words had just come out of Jimin’s mouth. At the same time, you absolutely believed that those words had just come out of Jimin’s mouth, because it was Jimin.

“You haven’t, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Nah trust me, it’s legit.” Jungkook interjected, which only strengthened your belief in the opposite.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Jimin asked, eagerly awaiting your response. You thought for a moment, partially to wonder why you were even entertaining this conversation, before answering.

“I guess I really like peonies.”

“Let me guess, your favourite position is cowgirl.” You cocked your head to the side, unaware of how Jimin managed to guess that so quickly. From your silence, Jimin knew he was right. “I am so good at this!” He high-fived Jungkook, and you could only shake your head.

“I don’t want to know about the research that went into that.”

You focused your attention back to Taehyung’s camera, flicking through his picture gallery. Had you not shown the two dancing idiots the pictures he had taken of flowers (only expecting them to compliment their friend’s talent), the conversation would never have taken the turn that it did. You had moved past the flower pictures, now looking at some photos he had taken during the rain.

Behind you, Taehyung was in the middle of talking to one of the magazine editors about having some of his photos featured in articles. Though the two of you had made a pinky-swear last night, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised when he actually showed up.

“Can I have that back for a second?” Taehyung asked, and your fingers brushed past each other as you handed him his camera. The butterflies didn’t last long, as Yerin entered the room at that moment, and your eyes followed her as she took her seat at the table. She didn’t look back at you, though she probably knew you were seething. She must have taken great pleasure in it.

“You still hate her?” Jungkook asked, nodding towards Yerin.

“I’ve never hated her.”

“You were just giving her the dirtiest look.” Jimin smirked. You hadn’t even realised, but you couldn’t control the faces you made most of the time. Her presence in the room had reminded you why you were there in the first place, the bi-weekly magazine meeting. You turned to Jimin and Jungkook, an interrogation as to why they were in the room on the tip of your tongue.

“We’re waiting for Tae, before you ask why we’re here.”

The meeting started when the three boys left, but you could barely focus. You were constantly tapping your pen against the desk, eyes glazed over as you thought about the meeting you had arranged with Yerin as soon as this was over. When Namjoon, the head of the Music section, put his hand over yours to stop you, you placed the pen in your mouth and chewed on it.

“Is there a reason you’re so tense today?” he whispered.

“I’m not tense.” Namjoon shot you a look, and you know he would’ve probed you further had you not been in the middle of a meeting. You silently thanked him for not saying anything, wishing away the last minutes of the meeting.

Bitterness ran through you as you watched everyone pack away their things, getting ready for whatever it was they had planned for the night. You already knew it involved procrastination, as you were ready to do the same damn thing. The door was shut with an enthusiastic slam as the last person left.

Yerin opened the windows, airing out the room that had been filled with people just minutes prior. You hissed when the frigid air hit you. The click of her heels against the ground was the only thing you could hear as she made her way back to the table. She sat opposite you this time, packing her laptop into her bag before she looked over at you.

“What’s your favourite flower?” You asked.

“What?”

“Just wondering.”

“I like daffodils.” You made a mental note to ask Jimin what that meant. A small, bittersweet smile grew on her face. Hoseok had bought her daffodils often. She didn’t particularly care for them until he first bought some for her, the brightest smile plastered on his face. She hadn’t realised she still liked them until you asked. How pathetic, she thought, that he still had an effect on her. “Anyway, the plan.”

“Before you start with the delusion and negativity, I have a question.” Yerin raised an eyebrow. “How do I know you won’t spread the pictures regardless of what I do?”

“It’s an agreement. You help me get what I want, and in return I won’t spread the pictures. We both benefit.” She sighed once she realised you were still unconvinced. “I’m one of, if not the most reliable members of the sub-team. Whether you like me or not, you have to admit that. I’m a woman of my word, and if you do this, then your secret is safe with me.”

There was something not quite right about the very person blackmailing you insisting that she was a woman of her word.

“What’s the plan, then?”

“See, I’m not the only girl to have ever fallen for Hoseok, and I won’t be the last.” Yerin began, and you resisted the urge to once again tell her to get to the point. You thought maybe she spoke this way on purpose to annoy you, because there was no way she was delusional enough to think you cared this much about the backstory. “And it’s not fair that he keeps leading people on, just to break things off with them once they develop real feelings for him. It’s fucked up.”

“You want to get revenge on him for not having feelings for you?”

“I’m not gonna sit here and let the girl who fucked her professor judge me.”

“I’m not judging.” You spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m just confirming that this is the case.”

“It’s more than not having feelings for me. It’s taking me out, treating me like a princess, acting as if I’m the only person in the world that matters to him, and then being disgusted when I catch feelings. He dared to look me in the eye and tell me that it was never about feelings, it was just about s-”

“You’re ranting.” That was about as polite as you were going to get. You glanced at the clock, deciding that Yerin had 15 minutes until you were going to get the hell out of there.

“Right.” Yerin took a deep breath and unclenched her fists. You decided, in that moment, that you didn’t feel safe when alone with her. “I’m going to flip the script on him, and I’m using you to do it. He’s gonna be the one to fall in love this time, and you’ll be the one to break his heart.” Her words were so final, so certain.

“You seem awfully confident about this.”

“Because I know exactly what to do to make him fall for you.” You knew better than to point out that if this was the case, the two of you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“And what’s that?”

“It’s simple, actually. The Three Fs and One D.” You raised an eyebrow. “You need to be funny, flirty, and fuckable.”

“Fuckable?”

“Just don’t be a prude.”

“No, I get what you’re saying, I just wasn’t expecting you to be so crude about it.” You shrugged. “Continue.”

“That brings me to the One D; do not give him what he wants.”

After all the jabs she’d made at you, it wouldn’t have been completely out of line to ask her exactly which part of the Three Fs and One D she had failed at, and boy did you consider it, but you also knew better than to test her limits.

You pondered over the information you’d been given. There was a part of you, a very large part of you, that doubted this would work. However, thinking back to what Yerin knew about you, you had to try.

“Once he’s interested, and he will be interested, he’ll turn on the charm. He’ll tease you, compliment you, make you feel special. Do not fall for it. All you need to do is stick to the script.”

“That’s it, and he’s mine?” Yerin nodded. “You make him out to be a very simple man.”

“Most men are.” That, you agreed with.

But something told you Hoseok would be a lot more complicated than that.

Jungkook’s hair was a mess when he opened the door, and the only thing covering him was a towel wrapped around his waist. This meant one of two things.

“Did you just take a shower or have sex?”

“Shower.” You breathed a sigh of relief. The last time you walked in on Jungkook having sex, you couldn’t look each other in the eye for almost a fortnight. He took his spare key back from you after that, wondering why he ever allowed you access to his apartment.

“I see. Anyway, I was wondering if you’re going out drinking with the dance team?” Jungkook’s face contorted in confusion, which you knew it would. In fact, you knew exactly what he was going to say in response.

“I’ve invited you to come out with us so many times and you always say no.”

“Yeah, but I heard through the grapevine that you’re going to the Terrace Bar today, and I love it there.” This much was true. The Terrace Bar was one of your favourite places in the city, and if it wasn’t always filled with intoxicated young adults, you’d probably go there to write more often. The seats on the terrace exposed you to the perfect view of campus and the city beyond, reminding you of the world outside of yourself. It was easy to get lost in the bubble at university, and you found the reminder to be humbling.

“The grapevine?”

“Rosé told me, and Jennie told her, and Jennie found out because she heard Jimin telling some girl about it.” You paused, noting the guilt on Jungkook’s face. “Unless Rosé is lying to me, and you told her about it.”

“Well, I’ll probably get there in an hour, so see you later!” Jungkook shut the door in your face before you could respond. You shook your head, but decided not to pursue it. All you really wanted was confirmation that the dance team were indeed going out drinking that night. The dance team weren’t going to do anything without their captain, and he was the only reason you needed to go.

The half an hour you had between texting Jennie and Rosé and their arrival gave you enough time to think about what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

It wasn’t like you and your professor were involved in some long, steamy love-affair. Working as hard as you did for the magazine, alongside your part-time job, made it difficult to keep up with schoolwork, and you were admittedly awful at prioritising things. There was only one module that you hadn’t passed, and you did what you had to do to get your grade changed. You weren’t proud of it, but you felt like it was your only option at the time.

Now here you were, part of a scheme to get revenge on some boy who had never wronged you in his life. The thing was, you felt more sorry for yourself than anyone else. You knew it was a selfish way of thinking, but you had a reputation to uphold.

Even if Yerin’s plan succeeded, Hoseok would surely get over you. Your secret would be safe, and everyone would be happy.

Eventually.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

A particularly rhythmic knock on the door alerted you of Jennie and Rosé’s presence, and you let them in quickly. They had barely set two feet into your apartment when Jennie gasped, eyes laid on you.

“Someone’s looking to get laid tonight!” Jennie pulled at the drawstring on your playsuit as she spoke. Heat rushed to your face before you swatted her hands away, choosing only to shake your head at the comment. Of course, there was a reason you decided to dress the way you did, but you weren’t going to tell them. “Don’t ignore me!” Jennie whined. “Who are you all dressed up for?”

“Yeah, you know Taehyung’s not coming tonight, right?” Rosé tore her eyes away from her phone to add her two cents. The death-glare you sent her way did nothing to deter her, she was used to it by now. “It’s weird, you guys have been friends for way too long to have never had sex, considering how attractive you both are.” Rosé’s smart mouth was part of the reason you were friends, and as immune to it as you were, you couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at her comment.

“I think you and Jungkook are the perfect example as to why fucking your friends isn’t always a good idea.” Jennie chortled at your response.

“That was a low blow, but you’re not wrong.” Rosé glanced down at her phone momentarily before looking back up at you. “We’re on good terms now, though.” And thank fuck for that. The 6-week aftermath of Rosé and Jungkook’s fallout (yes, it lasted an entire 6 weeks) were some of the most testing times for your friendship group.

“We realised.” Jennie responded, adjusting her belt. “Let’s get going, before shit turns sentimental.”

The bar was as busy as you expected it to be, unfortunately. As you fought past all the bodies, you mentally cursed Jungkook, Jimin and the rest of the dance crew for sitting as far away from the entrance as possible. They probably thought it made them look cool, or something.

“We bought you drinks.” Jimin gestured to the three untouched cocktail glasses on the table. You sniffed the drink to confirm it was your usual before taking a sip, your eyes scanning the table.

No sign of Hoseok. Weird, considering he was their captain and probably organised this night. You raised your gaze to the bar, and that’s where you spotted him. He was with – wait, was that Namjoon?

“Namjoon?” You had sauntered over to the pair and tapped Namjoon on the arm to get his attention. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

“Yeah, Hobi invited me.” You turned to meet Hoseok’s gaze, which you had felt on you the moment you walked over. It burned your body as his eyes travelled over you. You didn’t say anything to him, though, not even when he flashed you the smile that had probably gotten Yerin to fall for him. You had a game plan, and you would stick to it. Turning back to Namjoon, you rested against the bar. “Are you still as tense as you were earlier, or are you feeling better?”

“I wasn’t tense.” You lied, and Namjoon pulled the same face that your parents used to when you were a child and pretended that you hadn’t eaten any chocolate, whilst your face was smeared with it. “Okay, whatever, I’m better now.”

“Good. If the pressure’s getting to you, the rest of us have no hope.” Namjoon smirked, but you grimaced at his words.

“You need to take me off that pedestal.”

“Accept the compliment for once!”

“It was an exaggeration, not a compliment.” You teased, earning a shake of the head from Namjoon. Setting your now-finished drink at the bar, you said a goodbye to Namjoon before heading back to the rest of your friends. You had only acknowledged Hoseok once. Judging by Yerin’s words, this was the perfect level of disinterest to pique his interest.

Satisfied with yourself, you took the free seat next to Jimin. His faced wasn’t flushed yet, so you knew he’d actually engage in meaningful conversation. Well, as meaningful as it could be with him. “What about daffodils?”

“What?”

“Your sex position theory. What do daffodils mean?”

“Oh, anal.” He handed you a shot glass. “Take a shot with me!” Jimin had a talent for saying the wildest things like they were normal, then continuing about his day. Even as you downed the shot, your brain was working overtime trying to figure out how a love for daffodils translated to liking anal.

As a woman on a mission, you couldn’t go more than a few minutes without looking up, eyes searching for Hoseok. He seemed to be making his way around the bar, socialising with various members of the dance team as well as other people he knew, because he seemed to know everyone. He never stayed in the same place for more than a few minutes. Once he’d made his way around the bar twice, it didn’t surprise you that his next move was to go up the terrace. Naturally, you followed.

“Hold this.” Shoving your drink into Jimin’s hand, you walked over to the stairs heading up to the terrace. You also pretended not to notice him down your drink as soon as you got up.

There weren’t many people on the terrace, just a handsy couple and a few smokers. Everyone else seemed to be downstairs. Hoseok was sat on a stool, looking out over the railing.

“Didn’t think you’d escape up here.” You took a seat in the stool next to him, not waiting for an invitation. He turned to you, noting the way you sat facing him instead of the view.

“Why not? It’s the best part.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t think you’d come up here yourself. You seemed to be having fun downstairs.”

“Were you watching me?” He simpered when you tore your eyes away from him, choosing instead to look off into the distance as you avoided his gaze.

“You were staring at me as I spoke to Joon, so I guess we’re even.” A part of you felt accomplished when his cheeks turned redder than usual. The reaction confused you, as it’s not like he should have been surprised that you knew he was looking at you. He was a bold starer, one of the weird ones that didn’t look away when you caught them. He was lucky he was charming, it must have been the only reason he got away with it. “Why are you up here?”

“I wanted to see if you’d follow me.” Hoseok had anticipated your attempt at hitting his arm, and moved out of the way. You raised an impressed eyebrow at him, which held his attention long enough for you to smack his thigh. He laughed, acknowledging that you had gotten the better of him. “It was just getting a bit stuffy in there. Plus, I like it up here.”

“Same. It’s actually one of my favourite places.” You took a chance to appreciate the view as you spoke, resting against the railing. “Like, when things get stressful, this helps me clear my head.” Hoseok hummed, taking in your words.

“I would have never guessed. Then again, I don’t really know much about you, even though all our friends are friends.”

“What do you know about me, Hoseok?” He paused, your question catching him off guard. You didn’t know him well enough to be sure, but the glint in his eye told you he was about to say something that would have you trying to hit him again.

“You like peonies.”

“Oh my God, they told you?!”

“We’ve got to share data to keep the theory going.” You shook your head, these boys were absolutely unbelievable. His eyes met yours, his expression turning serious for a moment. “I also know that Yoongi loves you like a sister. I know that you’ve made it this far without killing or serious injuring Jungkook and Jimin, so you probably love them a lot more than they make it sound.” Your lips curled upwards at the last bit.

“What do they say about me?” You could only imagine it went something along the lines of them complaining about you complaining about them doing something stupid, which was every time they left their rooms.

“Nothing too bad, I promise.” Hoseok paused. “I actually think you’re very intriguing.” He bit down on his bottom lip, inching slightly closer to you. You looked up at him, having been in this position enough times to know what was coming.

Hoseok wasn’t sure what had come over him. He knew what Yoongi had said, that you were practically off-limits, but he found it hard to care when you were this enticing. He used a finger to tilt your chin up towards him. As he leaned into you, all you could think about were Yerin’s words.

Do not give him what he wants.

Raising a hand to his chest, you gently pushed him away from you. His brows furrowed as he jutted his lips forward in a pout.

“You have to at least take me on a date first.”

“I can respect that.” He pulled out his phone from his back pocket, handing it to you. “Can I have your number?” You tapped the digits into his phone, contemplating giving yourself a nickname, but coming up short.

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Namjoon’s voice made Hoseok jump, even though he tried to play it off. You snickered to yourself as you handed him back his phone.

“Not at all.” You spoke before Hoseok had a chance to. You hopped off your stool and made your way to the top of the stairs. “Enjoy your cigarette.” You didn’t have to turn around to know a pair of dark eyes were watching your every move as you walked away.

Hoseok’s mind was made up.

He wanted you.

#jung hoseok #hoseok scenarios #bts #bts scenarios #j hope scenario #j hope #hoseok scenario

7 notes · View notes