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fangurk · 3 years

Text

She’s Always There (Paul Lahote x Reader)

Key:

Y/n: Your Name

Y/l/n: Your Last Name

Y/n/n: Your Nickname

Y/e/c: Your Eye Color

Y/h/c: Your Hair Color

Prompt Given To Me By @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhh.tumblr.com: hey!! so the reason I'm messaging is because I wanted to request something but can't fit it all into an ask lmao. anyways could i please request a Paul Lahote x reader where the reader has been super close to the whole pack for years and has been Paul's imprint but doesn't know it (bc Sam thought it would be best to keep u away from it all) and they decide to finally tell you about being shapeshifters and being Paul's imprint and you're so mad about them not telling u earlier and there's a huge argument and they and Paul tries to calm you down but you say stuff like 'leave me alone' and things like that and it sounds like you're rejecting him/the bond in ur angry breakdown. anyways Paul is heartbroken and can't get out of bed or eat or anything so the guys finally convince you to come back bc they and Paul need you and it's just the reader cuddling with him and getting him out of bed to take a shower and eat and he realizes that you're not going anywhere and it's just like healing the imprint bond? sorry for this WALL of text, I've just had this idea stuck in my head for a while lol. if you don't want to do it, that's completely fine!! thank you for your time ♡

ok so my guy,, bc this fic has been stuck in my head for a bit, some scenes have developed? so idk i hope this isn't too much, but if u do write it, would u be willing to add like some angst to it, obvi, and maybe a scene/part lol where when the reader tries to get him to shower (bc the misinterpreted rejection made him like super depressed and he just felt low about himself) he won't shower, because he doesn't want to come out and the reader is gone. so either they shower together (not smutty just angst&fluff) or she sits like in the bathroom while he showers LOL. and when he feels a bit better, they go down to eat and he's touching some part of her at all times. if this is too much to like,, include then that's a-okay. i just need to get this OUT of my MIND ugh lmao!/!

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: The Reader has been friends with most of the pack members for her whole life. Which is why, after months of silence and strange changes, she was willing to let them back into her life— until she finds out she’s been told lies that leave her in danger, of course. After a big freak out and two weeks of avoiding them, the boys come begging for her help; it turns out that Paul has some wolf-y claim on her, and whatever she said to him has left him worse for wear...

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Nudity, Angst, and Cursing.

A/n: this is literally like a whole novel I’m so sorry I got carried away. this is kinda based on a lot of fics I read where the imprint has the potential to really hurt people and I named Paul’s dad.

Word Count: 2.9k+

“The legends are real!?”

Y/n Y/l/n hasn’t ever been so disturbed in her entire life.

After weeks of radio silence, Sam Uley’s little ‘gang’, mostly consisting of people she’d known since childhood, had slowly trickled back into her life. What started as a grocery run with Paul or a movie with Jared had turned into big bonfire parties including Jacob Black and his gaggle.

But that was months ago. Months. And now, as she sits by a fire, surrounded on either side by them, they decide to tell her their little secret?

“Y/n.” Sam says as she abruptly stands, eyes stern and hand raised placatingly.

His actions only served to upset her more and her skin bristles with irritation. Sam was acting as if she, a human surrounded by shape shifters, was the unstable one. As if she could do any damage to things built to kill vampires.

“Don’t you dare, Sam.” She clenches her fists, glaring right back at him. “It’s been months- months- and you’re telling me now?”

“It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up.” He reasons, voice a little less demanding. “We all wanted to be sure that you were ready to know.”

“Ready?!” Y/n laughs mirthlessly, y/e/c eyes wide with disbelief, “When was I supposed to be ready Sam? W-when one of you gored me? When a cold one ripped me apart?”

Her hands shake as she puts them on her forehead, blinking back tears. Growing up all she’d ever heard were stories of humans getting dragged into fights between wolf and vampire, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Emily in the eye because it was suddenly apparent that wolves alone could hurt people too.

It was so bad, whatever happened to Emily, that they said a bear mauled her— Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not like that, Y/n/n.” Embry chimes in, reaching out to grab his friend's arm.

She yanks her body out of the way and gathers her belongings quickly.

“What is it like then, Call?” She holds her bag to her heaving chest, “because it seems to me that you all have the ability to turn into giant, slobbery freaks that are built for killing vampires and, after completely dropping me for weeks, you decided to keep it secret from me for months. Did it even occur to you that I would’ve been better off knowing right off the bat?!”

No one says anything. Eight shifters and two of their girlfriends sit there, just staring at her like she was speaking a different language.

“You know,” Y/n has to clear her throat to steady her wavering voice, “had you guys really been souped-up on drugs like everyone says, maybe I could’ve handled the lying. But my life was clearly potentially in danger, and you let me hang around without saying anything. I- God I don’t want to see you people right now.”

She leaves with that, stepping over logs and storming back down the beach with determination. Faintly over the roar of her heartbeat, she can hear someone scrambling to stand behind her.

“Wait!— shit, sorry-” Paul grunts, jogging to catch up with her- “Y/n-“

With an unusual gentleness, his warm hand wrapped around her forearm. For a moment, deep in the back of her mind, a foreign feeling tells her to stop, to listen; but that small voice is quickly smothered by the rational part of her brain, and she wrenches her arm from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps, lowering her voice, “Leave me alone- I need to be alone.”

Paul stands there, dumbstruck, an unreadable look in his eyes as she walks away. And he’d continue to stand there, looking like a kicked puppy long after her retreating form became a blur amongst the darkness of the beach.

“Paul?” Sam is hesitant, hand hovering over the younger boy’s shoulder a minute before he touches him, “You okay?”

Shrugging his leader’s arm off his shoulder, Paul sighs. “No...I...I’m just gonna head home.”

Instead of going in the directions of the cars, the wolf stalks off toward the woods; Emily stands from her seat, wrapping her sweater more around herself as she watches Paul leave. Concern is written all over her features.

“He’ll be fine, Em,” He pulls her in for a hug, “it’ll all work out eventually.”

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Y/n does a good job of avoiding them for a while.

She turns her phone off a few days in and avoids going to First Beach, even when Washington gets a rare, warm summer feel. Books that have sat long forgotten on her shelves get read and TV shows she’s always meant to catch up on get watched; it’s boring and she runs out of options, at one point thinking of dying her hair y/f/c just to spice things up, but it allows her to think. (Or at least it allows this strange little voice in the back of her head to tell her that she needs to go back to them.)

The next time she sees any of the boys is exactly two weeks after the bonfire incident.

She’s curled up on her couch, picking at some of the Clearwaters’ fish fry and barely watching an episode of ANTM, when a fist comes banging down on her door. Turning off the TV, she tiptoes to the window, peeking under the curtain as carefully as she can.

As she expected, Jared Cameron and Embry Call are on her porch, the former standing in front of her door with his hip cocked, the other rooting around in her mother’s plants for something. Cringing, she hopes if she’s quiet enough that they’ll just go away.

Her front door opens within minutes, however, and she realizes her hoping is fruitless.

Should’ve known you can’t hide from wolves, she can’t help but think bitterly.

“Y/n?” Jared calls out through the house, “we know you’re here.”

“Yeah, and you guys should probably move your spare key,” Embry tacks on, flicking the light switch to the living room up, “I've known you forever and it’s still in the same place.”

From her spot by the window, the y/h/c haired girl glares at the two boys, arms crossed over her chest. Embry gives her a lopsided grin and holds the key out to her, his bud plopping down on the couch and pulling her abandoned plate into his lap.

Y/n extends a hand to take the key.

“Has it really been in the same place?” She sounds a little more defeated than she’d like.

“Yeah, it’s always been in your mother’s cornflower pot.”

“That’s...kinda sad.” She wrinkles her nose, pocketing the key with the intention to hide it better later, “but uh, I’ve been ignoring you for two weeks for a reason. Peacefully breaking into my house kinda furthers my need for space.”

Embry scratches the back of his neck.

“Well,” He says, “we need you to come back, man. Paul won’t talk to anyone- Sam doesn’t know if he’s eating, and he won’t even get out of bed for patrol! He needs his imprint-”

“His what?” She cocks her head to the side and Jared snorts from the couch.

“She left before we got there, nimrod,” Jared mocks through a mouthful of food, “she doesn’t know what an imprint is.”

He lets out an indignant “Hey!” as Y/n walks by, snatching her plate back from him on her way to the kitchen. Embry chases after her, a grumpy Jared jumping up from the couch to follow.

“You’re his imprint— you’re basically his soulmate!”

“Really?” She says warily, sealing the fish and putting it back in the fridge.

Both boys nod clumsily.

“You remember a few weeks ago when you saw each other for the first time again and he kinda just stood there like an idiot while you talked?”

“Yeah? Oh!-” She brings her hands up to her mouth, brows furrowed as she recalls.

It was exactly Jared had said. She and Paul had seen one another for the first time in a long time and the minute her y/e/c eyes looked into his, it was like he’d been struck dumb.

Embry gives her an encouraging look, “An imprint is...It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. When you snapped at him last week he thought you were rejecting him….”

A part of her thought about how absurd it was that he knew that whole speech. But the bigger part of her came to a realization that made her stomach churn.

“So he's all depressed… because… of me?” She whispers, leaning back on the counter.

Embry, always a rather sympathetic person, opens his mouth to comfort her, but Jared cuts him off.

“Basically. So are you going to come with us so we can help Paul or are you going to continue being petty?”

In any other circumstance, Y/n probably would’ve thrown something at her for calling her petty. She felt she was completely justified in her actions. A part of her wonders if she can really believe them— they’d spent months lying to her after all. But a larger part thinks about Paul, curled up in his bed, slowly desecrating because he thinks she rejected him.

If it were really all some ploy to get her to listen to them, then she’d at least be the person who chose the well-being of her friend over a petty disagreement.

“I’m coming.” She affirms, pushing herself off the counter, and letting the boys lead her to the car.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Jared and Embry drop her off in front of the Lahote household. They tell her something but she can’t really hear them over her heartbeat, she doesn’t even know they’re gone until it’s too late to turn back.

Getting into the house wasn’t the hard part. Paul’s father, Cyrus, had been leaving as she arrived, and, after he watched her stare at the house with a fearful expression for a few minutes, he happily let her in. The hard part was willing her legs to take her up the stairs to Paul’s room, and then it was opening his bedroom door.

Y/n has known Paul since they were eight, but she was afraid of him until they were eleven. He wasn’t mean, per se, but his anger made him do mean things; she wasn’t entirely happy with puberty and it’s monthly gifts, but whatever it did to make her suddenly un-afraid of him she was grateful for. But now, standing in front of his bedroom door, she had a nagging fear that Paul would revert to that eight year old boy who threw lunch boxes and twisted arms behind backs until people cried.

The door creaks slightly as she struggles to push it open.

His room is almost completely dark except for the light coming from the hallway behind her. Trash and dirty clothes have formed a compact layer on his bedroom floor, foot sized holes leading up to the twin sized bed in the corner. On the bed, amongst the blankets she’s sure he doesn’t need, is Paul— or at least, a Paul sized lump.

As gross as it is, she’s kind of relieved he’s been eating.

“Paul?” She whispers tentatively, stepping toward the bed.

The lump flinches and turns toward her.

“Y/n?”

If the room and the description of his state weren’t heartbreaking enough, his voice definitely was. Hollow, rough, and small, everything it never was, everything Paul wasn’t.

“Is that you?”

“Yeah...it’s me..”

She carefully steps over to the bed, and Paul slowly sits up, pushing his blankets to the side. There’s a beat of silence as she stands between his legs, his reluctant hands coming to rest on her waist after a minute. Y/n let’s him have another to gather his thoughts.

“You really came…” Tears well up in his eyes and loops his arms around her back.

She runs a hand through his hair. “I did, and I’m so sorry, if I had known—”

Paul nuzzles her stomach, “S’fine, you didn’t know, and you’re here now.”

There’s a sort of cute, euphoria lacing his voice and he’s visibly much more relaxed.

“Just don’t ever say that again…”

“I won’t, I promise.”

She’s surprised when he manhandles her into his lap, but she doesn’t really mind. He’s warm and strangely familiar and something about it just— clicks.

“When was the last time you spent, I dunno, a minute or two out of your room?” Y/n asks softly, y/e/c eyes glancing about the room.

The shifter’s only response is a shrug, too busy nosing around her neck with vigor. When he finds a certain spot, it makes her squeak, and this seems to excite him like a puppy finding out its favorite toy makes noise.

“You need to bathe, eat something substantial,” She intertwines their fingers, “and the...pack...they’re really worried about you— are you even listening to me?”

He looks up at her then and flashes her a sheepish smile, answering her question. Pursing her lips, she pulls his arms from around her.

“C’mon, Paul.” She stands up and takes his hand. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

She moves toward the door, urging him forward, only to be jerked to a stop as he stays put. He looks a little distressed when she turns back to him, brows furrowed, almost like he’s in pain.

“Paul?”

He grunts, jaw clenched as the cogs turn in his head. Y/n cocks her head and reaches out for his other hand. It felt like some sort of supernatural intuition, one she’ll blame on the imprint and ask Emily about later.

“Paul, hon, why won’t you come shower?”

“I’m afraid you'll leave,” He says bashfully, “it’s stupid, I know, but part of me is afraid you’ll leave while I’m in the shower.”

Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken at his confession. Paul was part wolf, and part of being part wolf was imprinting— she almost wishes she’d have stayed long enough to listen, or been able to focus as the boys debriefed her on the ride over because only being able to speculate how much she’d actually hurt him was eating her alive. He wouldn’t even shower, something he desperately needed to do, because of what she’d said.

Taking a deep breath, she barely registers the words she’s about to say.

“I’ll wait with you, I’ll sit on the toilet, you’ll see me there.”

And true to her word, Y/n does sit on the toilet while Paul showers, reading the information on soap bottles to distract herself from the fact that he was there next to her, very naked. Occasionally he asks her what she’s doing, and she reads the ingredients out loud to the best of her ability, and he laughs a little— she tries to hide her smile, but she was too happy he was laughing.

She closes her eyes when he gets out, letting him dry himself off and pull on some clean shorts. He throws the wet towel at her when he’s done, eliciting a “Hey!” that makes him laugh again.

Now that he’s clean, the two of them descend into his quiet house. Y/n navigates the kitchen, her wolf attached to her hip and being less than helpful, and makes them both something to eat— he doesn’t do much more than stand behind her, wrapped around her, making her life more difficult.

“I’m so happy you came back.” He says, watching her work.

“I was always going to.” Y/n responds, her voice sure and steady.

They talk as they eat, sitting across from one another at the too big table in the Lahote household. Talk about how this was going to work, admitting feelings that always lingered, and everything in between; she hooks her leg around his, watching him scarf down his meal with a wrinkled nose and fondness glittering in her y/e/c eyes.

He’s...gross...but he’s hers, she’s kind of stuck with him.

A date is planned. An actual date.

Paul promises to take her to the local diner (and to wear a shirt, for once.)

“I’ve been saving up for something like this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and you can get that dessert you like.”

Y/n laughs softly, but heat spreads up her neck and settles in her ears and cheeks. It’d been a long time since that had been her favorite food, but it was the thought that counted...

When Cyrus Lahote returns from work later that night his son and the Y/l/n girl are awkwardly situated on his couch— him on his back, snoring, her lying on top of him, face tucked into his neck, also fast asleep. The older man turns off the TV and tosses a blanket over the pair, ascending up the stairs with a smile on his face.

Y/n Y/l/n was trustworthy. She’s always there when Paul is in a rut too big for him to handle...

#paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolf pack imagine #twilight wolf pack #twilight fanfiction #eclipse #twilight wolf imagines #embry call #jared cameron #sam uley

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iamanartichoke · 2 years

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I wasn’t going to address this bc I’m pretty sure it will accomplish nothing bc people will believe whatever they want to believe - but, well, at least *I’d* feel better getting my side of the story out and then moving on with my life.

Cut for length.

I’m aware that the fallout of my “controversial” post has several people upset. I have seen, over the past 24 hours, several vagueposts about me. I have seen one user in particular (who I am not going to tag but I’m sure she knows who she is, what's up) make *several* posts about how I’ve betrayed her. I have seen that I am now a “toxic possie,” that I am gaslighting people into thinking they misinterpreted me, that I have “out of nowhere” changed, become toxic, or suddenly have a problem with people I’ve been mutuals with for years for “no apparent reason.” I have *also* seen that I don’t want to be proven wrong, that I can’t handle the inevitable backlash of what I’ve said, that I don’t know what torture is or what narrative framing is. And that I have been “pretending” to be on one side all this time, that I am now slandering the takes that I’ve previously defended, etc.

And I just need to say - for one thing, what in the actual fuck are you talking about by saying I’m GASLIGHTING you, but for another thing, if you truly think that my POV is coming out of nowhere, with no apparent provocation, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.

And I mean, that’s fine, whatever, but just for the record? I got fed up MONTHS AGO. Some of you I unfollowed a long time ago (thanks for noticing!), some of you I blocked way before my post was even a thing (what’s up!) and some of you I was never fucking following in the first place, nor have I ever even had a conversation with you (or if I have, it’s been brief and in passing on some post or another). And I wasn’t following you nor did I ever attempt to befriend you because I don’t agree with most of your takes and don’t want to engage with them.

To the person who thinks I deliberately betrayed them, specifically - I don’t even KNOW YOU. Most of the time I’m hardly aware that you exist, until your posts cross my dash due to the mutuals we had in common, and I’m not impressed with what I’ve seen. It’s not your response to anons that have sent you hate and death threats that I take issue with - obviously no one deserves that and you’re free to defend yourself from it however you like. My issue is that I have seen you and others hop on posts that started out either neutral or positive and turned them negative by reminding everyone that the series is harmful, that Sylvie is abusive, that Mobius is a torturer, that the TVA being fascist means that the show is pro-fascist (and I’m the one who doesn’t understand narrative framing? Please.) etc etc etc and it’s fucking exhausting. This has happened to a few of my own posts, too, and I’ve watched them spiral into seriously negative posts that I didn’t want my name attached to bc I didn’t agree w/ the direction the arguments were taking.

So when I saw you reblog my Mobius post and saw notes start coming in from series-negative people, I said, NOPE. And like I said, I’m glad I did bc the result was that I feel I ended up having fruitful conversations. I don’t want to be proven wrong? I WAS proven wrong. I ACCEPTED that I was proven wrong. I am FINE with being proven wrong. I’m not fine with trying to navigate my way through vitriol to defend myself against people who are so quick and immediate to accuse others of being abuse apologists, toxic, pro-torture, gaslighters, and whatever else takes I have seen in the last day, who aren’t going to listen to me anyway. I'm surprised I haven't been accused of being a terf yet (unless I have and I just haven't seen it). (And also I’m not taking the post down bc while I agree it was harmful, it was also productive and also it’s my fucking blog and I can keep up whatever I’d like, but thanks for adding some pro-censorship vibes to this dumpster fire.)

I haven’t “switched sides.” I was never on a side to begin with, which I have repeatedly said since this series started airing. I have defended a lot of you, absolutely, bc I don’t think anyone should be bullied for their takes and I don’t think criticism should be discouraged. I still feel that way.

But for months now, my efforts to be neutral and/or to stick up for people I thought were my friends have been ignored and unreciprocated, people I thought were my friends posted my meta in their discord servers to attack it, people stopped tagging their negativity, making it impossible for me to curate my fandom experience, etc. I have gone out of my way to apologize to people if I’ve hurt them, I have held my tongue so that I *wouldn’t* hurt anyone’s feelings even though I thought their takes were trash. All to no avail.

I’ve BEEN fed up. The fact that those of you this applies to are only JUST NOW noticing? Really just proves my point: y’all don’t actually give a shit about me, you’re just mad that I’m not holding my tongue anymore so you can go on thinking that good ol’ non-toxic artichoke is on your side. I'd say I'm surprised with how quickly you jumped to assuming the absolute worst about me, except I'm not surprised at all.

I am 1000% sure I am going to regret posting this, but I'm not unblocking anyone I've blocked, so if you have shit to say, go ahead; I won't be seeing it. Think whatever you want to think about me. If I haven't blocked you but you no longer wish to follow me or be mutuals with me or think I'm an asshole, feel free to leave. Peace out. I don't care anymore. It was nice knowing you until it wasn't; I'm 500% done with the way things are in this fandom.

#i'd say #not for reblog #but i can't stop you so whatever #edit: i privated this post bc i did end up regret posting it due to the overall tone of it #bc it's kinda unhinged tbh #but now that it's been a few days - i am not mad anymore but i'm STILL bothered #by how this all went down so i'm leaving 'my side' up for the record so to speak #hi i'm charlotte and my superpower is staying ever-so-slightly salty indefinitely

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

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I like your meta and I got to thinking about all the stuff in these books that requires the suspension of disbelief to roll with and tbh the biggest thing Nora ever asked us to overlook is Riko's entire schtick. Tell me who in real life looks at a short, West Virginia college freshman, even the ones who are good athletes, and says 'oh yeah they are definitely the authority on who should be thought of as the best players in the league, the tattoos are normal, he's normal' Like !??? Hello???

yea i personally have a lot of questions about the moriyamas as they’re presented to us in canon. i think they’re a very confusing detail, and also a not-exceptionally well-considered one on account of the unfortunate racial implications

personal take: the moriyamas should have been russian bratva instead of japanese yakuza. it would change absolutely nothing about the story, but would fix a dozen small details that i’ve been leaping through flaming hoops to justify watsonianly in how i flesh out the extended universe

nora is VERY much a character writer, not a world-builder. her characters are SO nuanced and life-like, but her world-building often feels random, disjointed, and unaddressed

that being said though, i don’t think riko’s schtick is really one of these details

calling riko just a “short, West Virginia college freshman” is very uncharitable to exactly what he is. riko is a celebrity, the ward of a celebrity, and he’s been in the media eye since he was born. it would be accurate to compare him (and kevin) to people like blue ivy carter and north west kardashian, children of a-list, instantly-recognizable celebrities who got added to their guardians’ brand as children. blue ivy is nine-years-old and has already won a grammy

(i don’t want to imply that either the knowles-carter or the kardashian-west family, or any other celebrity i might mention here are abusive like the moriyama family. while there are plenty of concerns about the psychology of child stars, i’m not talking about their personal lives or the way these children are being raised, because that’s none of my business. i’m talking about them from the perspective of their media visibility and the legitimacy that gives them with the public)

journalists LOVE celebrity kids. every argument and wardrobe choice is headline news in a-list houses, and why some celebrities (like famously michael jackson) have to go to such extreme measures to give their kids even a modicum of privacy, because they're hounded by reporters and photographers every time they step outside.

tetsuji, however, took much more of the joe jackson approach and turned his nephew and ward into a public brand and set them loose on the media circuit as soon as he was able

you have to think about exy as a global movement, one with two distinct figureheads at the helm. it came out of nowhere and completely reshaped the world of sports in an extremely short amount of time. think of kayleigh and tetsuji as being like mark zuckerberg or steve jobs: innovators and figureheads

and even if they’re “just” sports celebrities, they’re sports celebrities on a tier with people like babe ruth, michael phelps, tom brady, serena williams, usain bolt, lance armstrong, the rock, muhammed ali, john cena. people whose sports celebrity is SO great their names enter the mainsteam. that’s the MINIMUM level of fame and influence they have

it's no stretch of the imagination for me to think that the Princes of Exy brand was inextricable with the rapid growth and popularity of the sport. kevin and riko were mascots, ambassadors, and symbols, not just for the ravens but for exy itself. the sport viewed as coming of age alongside them

even if it seems ridiculous to us from outside their universe, inside it people have been hearing about the Perfect Court for over ten years. it’s something their sportscasters and news anchors talk about. you’ve heard it on every early-morning and late-night talk show. it’s a tagline on the covers of magazines and up on billboards. every little league kid who picks up an exy racket dreams that they’ll be the next pick and wear that three or four on their jersey

riko and kevin may have been two of the most famous children in the world

and with celebrity comes extensive forgiveness of... “eccentricity.” remember when jared leto started a cult and everyone just,,, let that happen? gwyneth paltrow’s new age wellness pseudoscience brand? tom cruise is literally a scientologist? even if it’s absolutely ridiculous, it’s okay if a celebrity does it

in-universe, riko isn’t just a “good athlete,” he’s a house-hold name with a consistent vision, every tool at his disposal to get it done, a massive platform of people listening to his every word, and the mainstream media spreading it for free

some tattoos at 16? that’s nothing. ESPECIALLY if they’d been drawing them on for years before

once you think about these things in the context of things that are familiar to us, rather than strange and random and contextless the way they (admittedly) come across in canon, riko starts to make a little more sense

also, while i think it could have been pushed more, i think that nora actually did a pretty decent job of conveying this idea of Celebrity as a theme in the books. there are a lot of very consistent references to kevin and riko’s fame and influence. however, because of how much of an unreliable narrator with such a narrow scope of interest neil is, it’s a detail that can slide past you especially if you haven’t read the books in a while and you mostly engage in the fandom. fandoms tend to be character driven, not theme driven, so a lot of the recurring themes and imagery of a work tend to get lost over time

however i try to keep in touch with the canon. the last time i fully read the books was less than a year ago (and i’ve been in the fandom for like,, 5 years?) and i fact check it often for posts, meta, and fic beta-ing. at some point i’d really like to do a series of scene breakdowns and literary analysis of the lesser-acknowledged themes bc ideas like Celebrities In The Public vs Private are interestingly approached and i think we’re missing out a bit by only talking about them from a character-first perspective

i think one thing i would LOVE about getting some kind of visual-media adaptation of aftg (animated series or visual novel preferred) would be all the passive worldbuilding we could get that neil declines to describe to us. things like billboards and magazine covers and t-shirts and commercials for exy and the Princes of Exy in particular. i really think it would push so much more dimension and context into the story for us to really SEE these things

#aftg #tfc #kevin day #riko moriyama #kayleigh day #tetsuji moriyama #meta #my posts #my meta #im talkin #long form post #ask

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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He’s Leaving (FNTO 2)

They weren’t kidding when they said everything you touch turns into a mess.

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that! JK’s angry in this one

Warnings: foul language, these characters talk alot bc I talk alot, eventual smut

Word count: ~12,000

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the cafe, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: This takes place 7 months after that night Y/N’s ex shows up! Italicized parts refer to past events. And since I’d mentioned this was initially for Harry, I remember now that Home by 1D was my mood for this, so listen to it as soundtrack (getting emotional while listening to it & thinking about how this ends)!

He’s leaving.

You stare blankly at the wall dividing your living room and bedroom and say the words once more, in your head and then out of your mouth.

He’s leaving.

You say it over and over again, alternating between question and statement.

Jungkook’s leaving.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s what I just said.” Jimin mutters over the phone.

“But why? I mean, since when does he leave ahead of all of you guys?”

“He decided to schedule a meeting with one of the producers he’s working with for his mixtape. It isn’t with your cousin, though, otherwise Jieun would’ve told you,” Jimin responds.

It’s the first week of August and the first show of the next leg of their world tour isn’t until a week from now, but Jungkook’s already headed to L.A. and he didn't even tell you about it. In fact, he hasn't said a word to you in the last five days, which is oddly surprising.

“He hasn't spoken to you?” Jimin asks, picking up on your thoughts. Perhaps your silence gave away the frustration you were feeling.

“Nope,” you reply, the sadness in your voice unmistakable.

“I hope you don't think I’m one of those people who’s gotten so attached to him that being ignored for five days feels like the end of the world… because it really isn’t. I’m just worried and confused,” you continue.

You aren’t blind. Jungkook’s surrounded by women, some vying for his attention, some wanting it back. They’d act out either way, displeasing him although he’d never say it out loud, but you were pretty sure you weren’t one of them. Right?

“Hey, of course not! As both of your friends, even I’m surprised. You two are like, inseparable, long-distance buddies,” he claims. “But to tell you the truth, I have no idea what’s going on either. Are you sure you didn't fight for real this time?”

No real fights, you say. Your arguments about who has better smelling detergent or your choice of movie to watch or him stealing your oversized sweatshirts were as far as you two went. You often had serious talks, but when you didn't see eye to eye, you always just agreed to disagree, and then it was back to petty fights and annoying each other like little kids again.

“I’ve to head out now, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn't help, but I hope you two patch things up! Just call if you need anything,” Jimin says after a few more back and forth of questions and answers about how the past week or so has been, just to pick up on any clues as to why things just suddenly came to a halt. You put your phone away and sit on the couch.

A few months ago, it probably wouldn't have mattered if he didn't text or call for a day or a week. You couldn't even truly come to terms with the fact that you’ve become good friends with Jeon Jungkook, the ‘golden maknae’ and self-proclaimed international playboy of the biggest band in the world who has the unenviable position of being half the female population’s (and a good fraction of the male’s as well) dream everything.

It amazed you how this oversized-clothes wearing boy with a bunny smile and doe eyes and who liked to talk to insects and impersonate chickens and act out Ironman fight scenes could arouse the sexual musings of individuals of all genders and ages. But then again, he does have that mellifluous voice and has this tendency to hump the air and dance wildly enough to reveal his abs, so you do understand the collective reaction.

For a high profile celebrity like him, it seems natural to be drawn to people from the same industry, for romance purposes or otherwise. Much of it has to do with the fact that they get the lifestyle, as his other band mates have shared, some of whom having dated fellow pop stars and models. But you aren’t from the same circle, or clique, or planet. While you’re your university’s star athlete, volleyball isn’t religion here, so there isn’t any “lifestyle change” of some sort.

Before Jungkook, your only window to celebrity life was through Jieun, your LA-based music producer of a cousin. Yet, you’ve always been wary of the spotlight, and those who loved it too much, which is why it baffled you for quite a while why you were so fond of Jungkook. He loved the spotlight enough to make his job look so easy, but he felt real — so real you almost thought he wasn't.

The midway mark of September has rolled in. Once the celebrations of your championship win over the summer were over, it was back to focusing on work and school. You’ve started your probationary period at a research institute, and you’re riding out your fifth year of university after your senior year knee injury left you out of school for a month and out of the graduation rites. This meant a chance to actually win the championship, which you did, and to appease your ever growing interest in gender studies, you decided to take up a minor program too.

It’s 8 am on a Monday and you’re enjoying your iced americano at Annie’s, your aunt’s café that she lets you run to help sustain your lifestyle. You monitor the daily operations, which means checking up on it everyday, and since class isn’t until nine, you always have your breakfast here.

Your back is turned to the door and you’re packing up your stuff, laughing at something Woojin, your café manager, is saying.

You stand up, swing your bag strap to your right shoulder and without paying attention, turn to your left to head out. Except instead of going for the door, you go for a body instead. The next thing you know, you’re massaging the right side of your forehead because holy crap this person has a knife for a chin, or a shoulder, or whichever part of the person’s body hit you.

“Ow!”

“I. Am. So. Sorry,” the person says. His voice is low and raspy, sleepiness still evident in it, and he says those words as if each is a sentence on its own. “Are you alright?”

By this time it has registered. You are looking up at the man who made your then-65 year old Grandma shriek. But that was last year and you bet if she were still alive now, she’d do the same, probably even louder.

You could hear customers enjoying their morning coffee whisper quite loudly “Is that Jeon Jungkook?!” And then it registers again. Yep, it is.

Eyes wide, you tell him that “good thing I don’t have coffee or that pretty white shirt of yours would’ve been messed up.”

Really, that’s what you say?

God, you sound so stupid, so you bat your eyelashes and put on a smile, as if that would save you the embarrassment. He grins.

“Yeah, good thing you didn't,” he says, letting out a little laugh.

You smile again, a bit awkwardly though, just to acknowledge his appreciation of you not ruining his Monday morning. As you’re about to step to your left to go for the door this time, he furrows his eyebrows. “You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?”

Well, you know where you’ve seen him, but you don't say that. Instead, you mumble “probably in your dreams?” Again, what?

He laughs again, this time more loudly. You’re amused at the child-like tone of his laugh, a complete contradiction to his toned body and tattooed arm. Your eyes travel up. Right, that was his shoulder you hit, you realize.

This is such a turn-off. Why does he keep laughing at stupid things?

“That sounded different in my head. It wasn't supposed to be a pick-up line if ever you thought so,” you clarify.

“No I didn’t, but thanks for confirming,” he says. You notice him smirking.

“Well, that settles it, then. Bye!” You wave, and you go for the door, for real this time.

It was an interesting way to start the week. You rarely have VIPs entering your café, especially in this quiet part of town, and so it’s quite a surprise to have him check it out. What’s even more surprising is seeing him there again the next day.

Your back isn’t to the door this time, but you’re zoned in on the paper you’re working on, eyes focusing on the laptop screen. It’s only when you momentarily look up and see Woojin preoccupied and seemingly distressed on the phone that you hear someone say, “excuse me” with his inked hand up that you realize your VIP is back. You stand up, approach him, and ask what he wants to order.

Jungkook’s face lights up. “Well, good morning, dream girl,” he greets. You flinch at the thought of what you said the day before implied.

“Please don’t,” you plead, before exploding into laughter. “Not my best moment, eh?”

He smiles again, shaking his head as if agreeing to what you just said.

“What do you want to order?”

“So… Annie?” He diverts.

You aren’t sure if you’re happy that asking for your name means he won’t have to call you dream girl again, or embarrassed because now there would be a name to the face.

“Annie’s my aunt, but I help run the place. It’s Y/N.”

“And I’m Jungkook,” he says, putting out his hand, as if you don't know who he is, which actually impresses you. You’ve heard of famous people's tendencies to act like everyone knows them, making them forego the courtesy of introducing themselves properly. You shake his hand, a little calloused but soft nonetheless. “This is Sejin. He told me about this place and how good it is,” he continues.

“Which is why you’re here for the second day this week?” you ask, fishing for some feedback on your food.

“I wanted to get back at the girl who would’ve spilled coffee on my shirt yesterday. Turns out this place has some great food as well,” he says, a smile creeping onto his face. You aren’t quite sure what to make of this.

You insist on their orders, suggest your bestsellers, and turn it over to the kitchen. As you’re about to head back to your seat, he says, “I remember where I know you from!” You look at him, curious.

“You’re Jieun’s cousin! She always posts about you,” he excitedly claims.

You nod. Of course, Jieun. You could’ve figured that out and told him yesterday instead of the dream girl thing.

“Right. Jieun,” you start. “She sucks up to me like that to convince me to visit her in L.A.,” you explain. You try to keep your voice steady. You don’t want to give the impression that having this conversation with him is already the most interesting part of your week, even if it is. Who gets to say that Jeon Jungkook recognizes their face anyway?

“You don’t like L.A.?” He asks curiously.

“It’s just not my cup of tea,” you respond, angling your body to move towards your table, but facing him still. You’re glad that the morning rush has ended and there aren’t many people in the cafe who minds enough that you’re talking to Jeon Jungkook.

“Then what is?” he asks, arms crossed against his chest, looking genuinely curious.

You let out a laugh. “Jasmine, chamomile. Lemongrass on some days,” you say. “We’ve got good ones you should try,” you tease.

You aren’t the type to spill things about you that easily, and he picks this one up. He nods and smiles. The only other thing he says to you before you leave is that the food is good, and that he’d “see you around.”

Of course he would, because for the rest of the week, he kept going back, right around the same time as you’re there. This isn't new, of course. You have so many customers who come everyday at a particular time — right before school or work or just part of their daily routine. But he didn't fit the profile of a regular customer, but you also could admit it was nice to see a fresh face around.

It’s Thursday of that week when he tells you “I have meetings and stuff in this area and your food’s really good,” after you give him a questioning look as to why he’s here again. And it’s the next day when he comes alone, orders jasmine tea for himself and for you, and asks for your number after you talk about Disney movies and the damsel in distress trope. And cats, and how much you hate them.

You have your back lying on the couch for 10 minutes, debating on whether you should drive to his place and ask what’s going on, or stay home and settle on phone calls for the next 2 months that he’ll be gone for the tour, if he’ll even pick them up. Because you’ve tried—you’ve called and left messages, not to ask why he hasn't been texting or if anything’s wrong, but just to crack up jokes that are way funnier than his, or to talk about food. You know, normal things.

You like how your texts never start with “good morning” and “what are you doing?” They’re usually along the lines of “some cat left a paw mark on my car, my day is ruined” or “I tripped in front of an old lady and she almost died laughing” or “what movie should I watch if I want to forget I have a shit load of work to do” or a picture of whatever food you ate that day.

Things are never formal with you two. It’s always very casual that sometimes you forget that his “show’s about to go on, I’ll talk to you later” text means he’s just about to perform in a sold-out stadium in front of thousands of people in Japan or something — like it was no big deal. Or that his “hang on, someone will just talk to me” is really code for “I’ve got an interview,” which you know will be newsflash and then posted all over social media immediately after. You enjoy this bit because it feels so natural, neither of you feel like you have to impress the other.

“Will you stop air fucking and pole dancing on the mic stand,” you’d say.

“Stop talking to me and do your report already,” he’d say.

“Seriously, why are your clothes 3 sizes bigger? How much food are you hiding in there?” You’d laugh over the phone.

“Your sweatshirt looks like shit, can I have it?” he’d annoy you, and then proceed to take it home.

You like making fun of each other as much as you like talking to each other. He’s easy to get along with and not pretentious; you’re comfortable to be around and not judgemental. He doesn’t have a problem telling you if you’re being too whiny; you don't mind calling him out for being too much of a perfectionist that he’s actually not being productive anymore.

Jimin was right when he described you two as inseparable, long-distance buddies — whether it was a night out with friends or a night in doing papers, if it didn’t clash with his schedule, you were together. Even if it was a quick take out dinner at 11PM after a long day of practicing, he’d be at your place.

Whenever he’s away on tour, he’d be constantly updating you about fan signs and the food and the weather; similarly, you’d update him on the café’s customer of the day or this new e-book you’d discovered or the weird dream you just had. You never feel any sort of pressure or expectation; neither of you feel too attached, despite the amount of time you spend together.

Regardless of how your constant texting or hanging out when he was back in Seoul seems like to others, neither of you ever felt like you had to define what you two really are. That’s what you always think the reason is as to why it works — it just does because you don't feel like it has to go a specific direction.

Despite all that, it still feels odd that he hasn’t been returning your calls or even updating you on how his day has been. The longest you’d gone without talking was 3 days, and that’s with a heads up. The next few months will be crazy for the band, what with the remaining shows of their tour. It isn't like him to just disappear from your life like this.

“When was the last time you saw him?” your best friend Chaewon asks over the phone when you finally decide to call someone after finding out Jungkook’s leaving.

“He’s not lost, okay. He’s just not calling,” you correct her. “But last week, we went for a drive, he slept over, and that was it. He just…” you trail. You aren’t even sure how to describe what just happened.

“Then why don’t you go over there?” She asks, almost as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don't know, it might get messy. You know I’m not good with confrontations.”

“Just go, Y/N. He probably won’t be calling you after he’s left if he’d been dodging you like this.”

Chae hangs up shortly after. You figure she probably doesn't want to hear another one of your excuses. You take your best friend’s advice and head for the door, get in your car, and take the 30-minute drive to his house.

“I like to leave,” you tell him. You glance to your right where he sits at the passenger seat of your car then look back on the road. You and Jungkook had just spent dinner with your friends at Chaewon’s apartment and you told him you could drive him back to the dorm.

He gives you a puzzling look. “Is that some sort of warning that I’ll wake up one day and you’ll just be… gone?” he asks, eyebrows scrunched up. You could see there’s a hint of concern on his face.

“Oh, I meant I like taking trips,” you laugh, realizing the oddity of what you had just said, which was a response to Jaehyun, your other best friend, mentioning you being voted as ‘most likely to evaporate into thin air’ in high school.

“Some days I wake up and just feel like being someplace else. So I grab my backpack and my trusty map, get into my car, and head out. By myself. Somewhere,” you say, shrugging, like it’s the most natural thing that people do.

You describe to him the places you’ve seen — the lakes and mountains and fields that many people don’t know about, how the sunsets are like from there, how the trees and flowers smell like, how otherworldly they look.

Most of the time, when you’re plagued with fear or sadness or doubt, you just leave. It’s your quick fix, your Band-Aid. You could be gone for a day or over the weekend; sometimes you’d be out for a week and not even your best friends know where you are, just that you’re safe.

“But why?” he asks. You think it was ironic since this is a guy who leaves for a living.

“When I was younger, we had this class and the teacher asked us to draw an object that represents us. I didn't even have a clear idea of who I was, how could I find the right object to symbolize me? You’ve got to find yourself, that’s how you’ll know, she said. I asked her how. She told me to go look at a map,” you narrate, looking back at that moment when you stared at your teacher trying to figure out if she was kidding or not.

“I guess you find yourself in places you don't know. Or you realize who you really are when things get chaotic and you go somewhere far. Or you pull yourself away from the crazy to take a breath and escape some things you’re not really ready to face…” you state.

“I never knew exactly what she meant, but I figured they all made sense,” you continue, slowing down the car as you’re a block away from his place. “You’ll always find a reason to leave.”

“But does leaving solve any of your problems?”

“Not always, but sometimes the problem is nothing that you leave behind. Sometimes the problem is you.” You’d thought about the times you came back and felt like a different person with a different perspective on things.

You look at him smiling, and you realize he’s been looking at you the whole time. You pull on the brakes, ready to say your goodnight, but he isn’t quite finished.

“What’s your favorite thing about leaving?”

There are so many things you love about it. You love how it means you have the freedom and capability to do anything you want. You love seeing new scenery, discovering places for the first time, meeting new people and learning their stories. It is such a human thing to want to leave, you think. You like everything about it, even the parts where you get completely lost or rained or snowed on because you weren’t prepared.

“Coming home,” you say.

He softens at this, a pleased look on his face.

“It’s like you’re gone for awhile and you see things for the first time, but then you drive back and you start seeing the familiar things — the streetlights, the driveways, the parks, the cafes… And all those constant things, they’re still there even when you leave, like they’re just waiting for you to come back.”

“You should know that. You’re always jetting off somewhere new,” you say.

“I leave because I have to. It’s part of the job.”

That conversation is ringing in your head the whole car ride to Jungkook’s house. Your knack for driving off is one of those things you never really share with anyone apart from your best friends. You never liked the thought of having to explain yourself to people, especially those you haven’t known for long, but with Jungkook, it never felt like you had to explain anything; you were always just sharing pieces of yourself that you knew he appreciated, that he somehow understood.

You pull up behind the black SUV parked in front of his place; the same SUV that you know his driver uses to take him to the airport. You turn off the engine and go through the half opened gate, up the steps and through the door.

You greet one of the members of his security team as she heads out the door and your eyes immediately turn to the two black duffel bags lying on the floor. They’re plump and full of things. You imagine all his black hoodies and sweatpants and leather jackets. You picture the bucket hats all neatly folded and his favorite Balenciaga sneakers tucked in somewhere. It feels weird, standing here at his foyer and just waiting for something to happen.

You hear steps skipping down the stairs and his voice, assuring “I’ll call you when I get there” to someone on the phone.

He’s looking down on it, texting someone who isn’t you. He does a double take, probably not expecting to see you standing by his door with a sad and confused look on your face.

You’re fidgety and you feel nervous. You never liked confrontations, even if you were convincing yourself that is not why you came here in the first place. You just want to see how he was doing, maybe ask what he’s been up to, wish him luck on the shows and that you’d see him when he gets back in two months.

“Y/N…” he starts. “I wasn't expecting you to be here.”

“Why, because you didn’t expect me to know you were leaving because you didn't tell me?” You say too quickly, resolve dissipating, tone and voice betraying you.

He looks taken aback. “Does it matter that I didn’t?” He says defensively, pulling up his duffel bags on a chair and seemingly looking for something inside one of them. You know he’s just distracting himself so he wouldn't have to look at you.

“You go home to your parents for three days and you ask to see me the day before, and now you leave for North America for two months and suddenly it doesn't matter that you don’t tell me?” Your voice is getting louder and you immediately wish you hadn’t come here at all. It seems like he doesn’t want you to be here just the same.

“You didn't even bother returning my calls or texts. And now you’re leaving. Your first show isn’t even until a week from now,” you say, crossing your arms. “What’s the rush?”

“I have a meeting with a producer,” he responds.

“That you couldn’t do during your free days there?” You snap back. You know this, you know they’re given some free time and he could’ve easily slipped that in there.

He sighs, knowing he can’t get out of this one. “I just want to be away from here, that’s all,” he says, glancing at you and then back at his bags.

“You mean away from me?”

He continues shuffling things in his duffel. He doesn’t even respond. You know it. He’s leaving because he wants to be away from you.

“What’s going on, Jungkook? One day we’re laughing our butts off until we fall asleep and the next you just… not call at all.”

“I just didn't feel like it, I guess,” he says, zipping one of the bags and adjusting its strap.

This infuriates you.

“Well that’s nice. It seemed like you always felt like coming over with dinner, keeping me company while I worked, convincing me to go out for drinks, meeting me at the café for breakfast but then all of a sudden you don’t feel like calling?” You bite back.

He’s silent for a while, as if finding the right words to say.

“You know what else is nice?” he starts, looking at you. “Calling me to come over on Friday nights when you don't feel like being out, asking me to stay the night and having me sleep next to you, kissing me and then telling me that ‘this feels nice and comfortable and fun’ and that I really am a great friend’.” His tone is angry, frustrated, desperate.

You feel your jaw drop open even if it’s closed. You did not see this coming at all. You always felt like you two were on the same page, that you like each other’s company so much that you prefer staying in on Fridays watching movies or National Geographic. You thought you both understand that sleeping next to each other only means you want to talk and laugh until you fall asleep, which is what happens all the time. You kiss then, which you treat like a goodbye because you don’t know if he’ll be there when you wake up.

“I never thought of you as the selfish and unfair type, but I guess there’s just too many layers of you that it takes time before this side of you comes out.” He swings both his bags to his right shoulder, hinting that he’s ready to leave, that he’s ready to leave things like this.

He starts walking towards the door. “They weren’t kidding when they said everything you touch turns into a mess.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What the fuck, Jeon,” is all you could say. You’d never seen him this upset. Worse, you’d never seen him this upset at you.

“So what, I turned us into this big mess and you leave just like that? Like it’s not even worth talking to me about whatever it is you’re feeling?” you ask, following his movements. He’s halfway out the door by this time.

You follow him out, overtake him and make sure he could see your face. “Leaving doesn't always solve problems.”

“Well, Y/N, sometimes it does. Because sometimes you’re not the problem, it’s what you leave behind.”

You look at his face, trying to find pieces of him you thought you’d figured out. He turns away, not wanting to see you like this. You see him soften a little bit, like he didn't mean for things to turn out this way, but you know he isn’t going to let up. You have so many questions running through your mind. What did this all mean? What’s going to happen now?

“It’s sad how when someone you care about tells you exactly what you are to them, you realize at that moment what they are to you, and it’s the complete opposite.”

He turns to look at you this time, his face screaming a kind of sadness you’d never seen before. You’d talked about him being homesick all these years when he’s out on tour. He’d shared how the gossip and his negative image have affected him and his relationships. He’d talked about how difficult it was holding onto things and people that were real, but none of those moments could compare to this one and to this look he has on right now that lets you know he’s upset and it has everything to do with you.

You’re the one he’s leaving behind. You’re the mess he wants to get away from. You’re probably the last person he wants to see before flying out because you’re the problem he doesn't want to deal with.

“Jungkook…” you start, although you have absolutely no idea what you want to say. You look at him, eyes pleading for something, anything.

“I have to go,” is all he says. He turns around, clutching his bags over his shoulders, and walks away.

No ‘see you around’ or ‘I’ll call you soon’ like always. It was just ‘I have to go,’ like it was the period to the past months you two have been hanging out. ‘I have to go,’ like ‘leaving you is this need I have to fulfill.’ ‘I have to go,’ like, ‘this is it.’

You watch him walk out the gate. You watch the car drive away. There’s always something poetic about watching someone leave. You’d been used to that growing up. Your parents were always leaving, saving lives in places that needed saving, but you always knew they’d still be thinking about you and missing you while they were away.

But with Jungkook, it was different. You hadn’t quite gotten used to him leaving all the time, and right now, you aren’t sure he’d be thinking about you or missing you while he was gone.

‘I have to go,’ he said. Like, ‘I’m leaving. I don't want to stick around. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be with you.’

Things don’t feel real. You’ve been driving for 30 minutes, unsure where to go, reeling over the conversation you just had with Jungkook, if you could even call it that. It’s like he just dropped a bomb on you that you didn't know he’d had all this time.

There was so much frustration and sadness on his face that morning and you couldn't get the image out of your head. What have you done? You kept asking yourself.

But you reason that none of this is your fault. You thought everything was clear between the both of you. Sure, you never really talked about it, but if he was really feeling differently about you, then why didn't he just say something?

“I’m heading out,” you say to Jaehyun over the phone. He’s always the first person you call when you feel like driving off.

“I’m guessing the talk with Jungkook didn't turn out well?” he asks.

You don’t respond. You don’t really want to say anything to your friends about all this until you’ve figured things out.

“Chae told me,” he says, interrupting the silence.

“Yeah, I figured,” you reply. Information is so fluid between the both of them.

“So where are you off to?”

“I don't really know, just wherever,” you say, but you know exactly where you’re going. It will just take another hour until you get there.

“Alright, just be safe,” he says, before hanging up.

You step on the gas and turn on the music. Anything is better than the silence that’s ringing in your ears right now. You hum to the tunes of Colde and LeeHi, praying to the heavens you won’t hear Jungkook’s voice on the next song. This is your ‘favorites’ playlist and he had sneakily included some of his band’s songs one day when you went out to the market to grab some fruits and he stayed at your place watching TV.

About 60 minutes later, you reach the place. It’s en route to a town a couple of miles south of the city. It’s a turn to the corner, onto a dirt road and a path lined with shrubs and small trees. The entrance to the main beach is right off the highway about a mile away, but you’d discovered this entrance not long ago when you drove off on a Sunday, two days after your ex-boyfriend came knocking at your door months after he broke up with you. It was the first time you spoke since then, and it was also the first time he ever tried to explain himself to you. You remember that trip; it was 7 months ago and it was also the last time you’d been here. Somehow you just felt the pull of this place.

You realize later on, as you sit on the shore watching the sky turn purple and orange, that you told Jungkook about this when you were here.

You watched the sunset then just like today. It looked so beautiful and so you snapped a picture and sent it to him. He was in Japan at that time for an event. You’d told him you’d fallen asleep and were just listening to the waves crash on the shore — your favorite sound in the world, you’d said. When it was all over, you decided to call it a day.

“I’m driving back now,” you’d told him. “Okay,” he responded, voice tired from the day he had. It was rare for you to talk to anyone when you were out. You felt like a part of home was tugging at you when you did. But Jungkook was away and you just wanted him to see what you were seeing. You felt it was a way for you to tell him that you were fine. He didn’t seem convinced when he’d left your apartment that Friday night after Jinyoung visited. The photo you sent of the sunset, and the next one of you lying on the sand, smiling, were enough to convince him that indeed you were.

“Okay. Hold on to the feeling once you see the familiar,” he’d said. He knew you loved that feeling. He always said he imagined a smile creeping from the left side of your mouth when you realized you were nearing home.

“You’re familiar, Jeon,” you’d told him.

You liked the idea, that you saw him as something familiar. You’d only known each other then for a few months but you’d talked as if it had been years. He was away but he still felt constant.

“So are you, Y/L/N,” he replied.

You were thinking about this, about him, as the dust settled and the sky’s now a pretty dark blue with tiny hints of burnt orange. The waves still sound majestic, truly something you can never get tired of. You feel the cold autumn air tingle your insides. You close your eyes and breathe in to try to immerse yourself in your surroundings, hoping against hope that something will click and things will make sense.

You’d spent the whole afternoon here yet you feel like nothing’s changed. He is on the plane to California and you’re still confused. You still have the same questions from last week, from this morning. He’s still your constant; you just aren’t sure if you’re still his.

Leaving doesn't always solve problems, you told yourself. You just wished you’d told him one more time. Maybe he would’ve stayed.

“We’re having Spanish,” Chaewon says as you enter her apartment. “And you’re late.” She continues, turning to you with slices of apples and oranges in her hands. You could hear the laughter and the cheers from the living room. Nobody’s minding you because a soccer game is on.

You envy their energy — why you agreed to continue to help run the cafe even with a full-time job, you don’t know, but it’s starting to take its toll on you and all you want to do is sleep. Jungkook and the guys will soon be in full preparation mode for the start of the tour and your superstar friend, who had now also claimed your own friends, wanted to have dinner with everyone before things got too busy.

“You cooked?” you ask, returning your gaze to her after looking out on who is already here.

“Nope. Take-out. But the Sangria is homemade.”

“Take-out?” you repeat, excitedly, making your way to the table to check on the food.

“Jungkook wanted Spanish and take-out,” Chaewon confirms, as laughter roars from the living room.

You walk over to check on everybody else who all acknowledge your presence with air fist bumps.

“So you’ve moved past Chinese and Japanese take-out and have gone for Spanish now, huh, Jeon?” you question. He gives you his signature bunny smile from his seat on the floor. He does that quite often when he’s showing off or after he’s done something nice.

“Hey, it’s a classy place and I get a discount. And, Chae sounded tired when I called so I took it upon myself to save dinner,” he proudly declares, standing up and motioning towards you. How cocky, you think, but you return his pinch on your cheek with a pinch on his nose.

Dinner is as fun as dinner with your friends always goes, but your hectic schedule that day made you extremely tired. After moving to the couch and a glass of Sangria later, you feel your head spinning and rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder. He notices your tired face, nudges at you and says he’s going to take you home. “Thanks, Jeon,” you murmur under your breath. “I promise I won’t puke.”

It takes a few glasses of water and a handful of profiteroles to get you sobered up and ready to head out. He helps you get in his car and you retreat to a semi-fetus position until the next corner.

“You’re really tired, aren’t you? You’re never this quiet during a car ride. Even when you’re drunk you won’t stop talking… or singing,” he teases. “Out of tune, I might add.”

You sit up from your sulking position. “Sometimes I just want to choke you, you know” you remark with a serious face.

“Do you want to feel the wrath of my women?” he questions, winking, referring to his army of fans who are protective of him, and for good reason.

“They’d probably want to do the same, only in a sexual way.” At this he laughs, shaking his head as if to say you’d done it again, teased him like this and made his cheeks blush.

The ride is a quick one for a Thursday night. You feel you haven't made fun of him enough as he pulls the brakes in front of your apartment building and immediately steps out and walks to your side before you could even thank him and say goodbye.

He opens the door and pulls you out like it’s routine, although you clearly remember he’d brought you home when you were drunk only twice, one of which was when he’d found you half-naked in your kitchen with a knife, ready to attack him. Since then, Jungkook had made sure to never let you be that drunk again, and always made it a point to feed you sweets so you’d stay awake.

He’s successful though — you’re sober and awake tonight. You’re just really tired.

You unlock your apartment door and he steps in with you, goes straight to your kitchen and makes you tea. He knows that chamomile makes you sleep well, and that’s exactly what he prepares.

“So comfortable in my place already, Jeon,” you say after realizing what he’s doing. He just knows in what cupboard your mug is kept, and in which box the chamomile is stored, and how much sugar you put, but then again, he did help you quite a bit organize your kitchenware. He opens a drawer to get aspirin - “Just in case,” he says. You watch him like he had done this many times before.

A small smile forms on your lips.

“Look, you’re tired and I convinced you to come tonight. If you don't sleep well, you’ll wake up in a bad mood and complain to me again that your neighbor’s cat is loitering on your steps… and then you’ll blame me.”

You laugh. For someone who deals with so many people everyday, it amazes you how well he remembers things about you like that.

“I was about to say how I like hanging out with you because you make me coffee or tea…”

“You’d do the same for me, Y/N, no matter how much you want to stop yourself from doing so.” He winks at you, tastes the tea, and places it on the counter.

You sit on the chair and feel the aroma of the tea soothe you. He stands there watching you, pleased with what he’s done. “You good?” he asks, and you nod behind your mug.

You don’t need to be taken care of, you’d told him once. You don’t need someone to be looking out for you when you’re drunk and being clumsy, when you’re busy and not eating, when you’re injured and unable to walk properly, when you’re stressed and needed a break.

“If you don’t want me here you could always just tell me, you know?” he’d said once. “I won’t take it personally. We’re good with each other that way.”

But you never asked him to leave. In fact, you always wanted him to stay, always asked him to.

“Ready to call it a night?” he questions, after you put down your empty mug.

You look up at him. You could feel your eyes falling and your body aching for a warm shower and your sheets. It’s been a crazy week and it isn’t even over. You want to rest, but you also don't want to be alone.

“Can you stay?” you ask, biting your lip and trying hard to pull off your puppy eyes so he’d say yes.

“Sure,” he says. He didn’t wait for an explanation. He didn’t need one. He just understood.

You give him a warm smile.

“I know you love my couch, but I might forget in the morning you’re here and I might stab you for real this time,” you state. “The bed’s big enough for both of us and Chandler,” you offer, referring to your hedgehog stuffed toy that’s about half your size.

“At least I get a blanket!” he claims.

“Thanks, Jeon.”

A soft smile appears on his face. “Anything for you, Y/N.”

By the time you decide to leave the beach, the sky has already settled in a midnight blue. The waves are crashing, and from across the water, you could see lights from the small town not so far away. You think about spending the night there, or driving someplace else and sleeping in your car until the next morning. But you decide to go home, even if you know you’ll just be thinking about him more if you do.

You turn on your engine, put the windows down, and listen to the wind. You think about this morning again. You’re still in denial that he’d said what he did and the implication that you probably led him on all these months.

But you’re convincing yourself that he couldn't pin this on you — he was always calling, he was always texting, he always wanted to be with you after a busy week, he always made it up to you when he couldn’t come over, he always stayed when you asked him to.

You two kissed, but it was a soft one, not ravenous or lust-filled. He didn't pull away and you didn’t try to deepen it. But he looked so good after their show and he was gonna be gone for the tour and the alcohol was talking and you let it.

You kissed again after that. There was no drunken night to blame it on the second time, but it was raining when you woke up the next day and he looked so warm and comfortable sleeping on your bed that you just felt like you had to. But he kissed you back, softly still, and he didn't say anything. He didn't pull you in for another one after.

If he really felt anything, then he should have. He should have grabbed you and told you he wanted more, that he was feeling differently, that things were changing. He should’ve done it then or any other time after that. He was always honest with you, but you didn't understand why he wasn't honest about this one, why he decided to just stop things and leave you hanging.

Maybe you weren’t away long enough, because you didn't even realize that you were already home until you saw your neighbor’s white sedan parked in your street. You pull the brakes and park behind it, thinking you were probably absent-minded the entire ride back.

There’s no warm feeling inside that you’re back. This wasn’t a trip that was meant to change anything or make you figure out how to fix things. All you thought about was that you miss him terribly, and maybe that’s what it was meant for, rub in your face that he’s gone.

You drag yourself up the stairs and enter your place. It suddenly feels like he’s everywhere in your apartment. You’d moved in last year and not even your best friends or your mom had imprinted enough of themselves inside.

There’s the cup Jungkook bought for you after he broke one of your favorites. There’s this pack of granola bars in your pantry that he got so you wouldn't have to gobble up ice cream when you were hungry. There’s the spare toothbrush he started using after his first night in. There’s your sweatshirt that he returned, and his hoodie that he said he’d get back the next time he sees you.

And there’s the counter where you both shared take-out dinners and homemade breakfast. And there’s your couch where you spent nights working while he watched TV on mute. And there’s your bed where he’d slept next to you a few times.

“I shouldn't have watched all those stupid chick flicks when he wasn't talking to me,” you think out loud. Now you’re left with an apartment that has him everywhere.

You’re not even together. You’ve shared so much of yourself to each other but never ‘I like you’s’ nor ‘I love you’s,’ not even ‘I miss you’, but why does it feel like you’ve shared all that and more? Why this sudden feeling of emptiness after he told you he had to go and then left just like that?

Everything you touch turns into a mess, he told you.

Your friends joke about it all the time. Your penchant for trying anything that remotely interests you doesn’t necessarily mean you’re good at it. Whether it’s decorating those Valentine’s cookies that Hyejin bakes, molding those vases during a pottery class you impulsively signed up for, or even making pajeon when Chae said you couldn’t fry anything other than your broken-yolk eggs, you just have the tendency to end up with final products that are nothing like what you intended. In look or substance, they’re just not that pretty. Jungkook always laughed along.

But he said it to you today like it burned him. As if to say, look at what you’ve done, I don’t want to be a part of this.

“So uhm, are you just going to sit there and watch us or are you going to help?” Jungkook asks from the floor of your living room, paintbrush in one hand, goodie bag in another.

Body sprawled on your sofa with legs hanging and kicking off the armrest, you look at him with a pout. “Jaehyun doesn’t want me to.”

Jaehyun sighs from where he’s sat on the floor. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Y/N. It’s that I can’t afford to.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” bitterness apparent in your voice.

It’s a Sunday and your friends are at your apartment to help Jaehyun decorate the goodie bags he’ll be distributing to the kids at the orphanage that he volunteers at. Twice a year, he throws them a party that requires decorating giveaway bags that contain the books and sweets he’s bought with his own money. Jungkook ended up there because, well, by now you don’t question him anymore. They had a day-off and he said he was bored.

“Jaehyun’s being kind. Y/N’s just really shit at these things so he doesn’t let her touch these,” she says, holding up a bag where she’d painted a rainbow.

“You got the color order wrong,” you shoot at her. She responds with scowl.

“Come on, Jae. Pretty please. I promise I won’t mess them up like last time,” you plead to Jaehyun. You know he has a soft spot for you.

“You said that the last time, too” Hyejin chides.

“Wow thanks, guys. No one’ll even pretend to be on my side, huh,” you sit up and frown at everyone.

“Y/N, we are, like, most of the time.” You glare at your friend. “But I spent my money on these and the party is already next week and I really want the kids to feel hopeful and inspired, not scared, okay? And I want them to actually keep the goodie bags, not throw them away. It’s nothing personal, I promise.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” you wave your hand at them and give up.

This is a usual occurrence. You know you’re useless with anything that involves the arts that’s why your only contribution every time you guys help Jaehuyn is your apartment as a venue.

Jungkook arrived an hour earlier with a glimmer and excitement on his face when he saw what your friends were doing, like a little kid at a candy store. He wasted no time and got right down to business. God, those kids who will get his bags would never know they were holding a goldmine.

“So what happened the last time?” Jungkook asks.

“She tried to draw a bear but it ended up looking like that character from the monsters cartoon, you know, the one holding its eyes?” Hyejin recalls, laughing as she recalls the proud look on your face and the distressed one on Jaehyun’s. “She tried to remedy it but like, just no. It looked terrible.”

“No kid would feel hopeful with that,” Chaewon adds.

“I really had to do quality checks of her work and I threw them all away cause they’d gone lumpy. She didn’t even mix the paint well,” Jaehyun continues.

“Yah! I think Jungkook got the message, okay?” You start chuckling, seeing Jungkook’s amused face and his effort to not laugh along at the thought of you being shut down for something you thought was a pretty thing you created. “I’ve accepted that art isn’t my forte.”

“So is cooking, baking, pottery, organizing, arranging…” You throw Chaewon a pillow, smack to her face like she deserves.

“But seriously. Trust her to score the final point of a championship game or write a 30-page report on housewifization and its subordination of women but if it isn’t sports or research, forget it. Everything she touches turns into a mess. RIP to all the cookies and goodie bags and vases that never saw the light of day,” Hyejin dramatically claims. “It’s kind of her thing.”

You shrug. It kind of is your thing. Your unartistic, unorganized, and mindless chaotic ass, for the life of you, just can’t get it together. Clothes and shoes all over the place, gifts wrapped in frayed gift wrappers, cooked food looking inedible… relationships that crash and burn because you couldn’t decide if you wanted to care or not, because you did whatever you felt like just cause you wanted to, because you got too close and didn’t know when to pull away… Yeah, definitely.

You turned to your friends who were all back to being immersed in what they were doing, proud look on their faces at the pieces that will definitely give joy and warmth to whoever will get them.

“I just mess things up, though. At least I don’t break them.”

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing in your ears, surprising you so much you almost fall off where you were lying.

“I’m outside,” Hyejin says on the other line. You get up and open the door.

She turns to you after seeing the blanket on your couch, realizing you had slept there instead of your bed. “Too much of Jungkook in your room, huh?” she says, looking sad, not realizing there was too much of him everywhere. You had just been too tired to go to your room when you got home, but you didn’t answer.

She takes your silence as a yes and walks to your kitchen to take out the bread and coffee she bought, then heads out to your terrace while you wash up in the bathroom.

You sit in front of her and eat your breakfast quietly while she watches you take small bites of your cheese bread. You tell her everything that’s happened the past 24 hours — from Jimin’s call to Jungkook’s out-of-left-field outburst.

“I think I led him on,” you say, head thrown back on the chair, eyes closed.

“Uh, you think?” Hyejin claims.

“How come none of you ever said anything?” you ask, looking at her. Jungkook didn't say anything; your friends didn’t say anything… Were you that naïve? That selfish? That stupid?

“Well, it’s not like you’d listen anyway,” she starts. “You always just do what you want. Like, sure constantly talk to the guy giving you heart eyes every time you look at him, go date the guy whose family is in Australia and would most likely go back and leave you, sure spend time and flirt with the insanely hot and kind and funny pop star… like there are no consequences to these things,” she unapologetically says.

“Is that so bad?” you ask.

You don’t want to sound defensive. You don’t have the energy to really argue with anyone.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t tell me you didn't see this coming. With how you two were, one of you was bound to fall for the other.”

“We allowed ourselves to get that close, Hyejin, to be… this. Whatever this is. Or was. It’s not like we ever talked about it, though.”

She raises an eyebrow at you.

“But I just figured we were both mature enough to handle the consequences. I just don't understand why it has to be this screwed up.”

She looks at you as if she’s looking right to your soul. “It’s like you ask someone to play fire with you, and you don't mind if you get burnt. You don't mind if they get burnt, too. That’s what it’s like.”

“Getting burned is part of it. Getting hurt is part of it. I know that, and I always get over it,” you say.

“Yeah, but the thing is, you expect the same thing from the other person, too.”

You don’t like how right she is about all this.

“When you get hurt, you just walk away because you expect it and you accept it and then that’s it, goodbye to everything that was good. Move on to the next relationship that may or may not work out,” she continues.

You cover your face with your arms, as if somehow that’s going to be enough to make up for everything you’ve done.

“But that’s precisely why you always live in the moment, you know? To hell with being careful, or obsessing over whether or not doing something will hurt you. When you feel it that moment, you do it. And you’re okay if it hurts you, or if it leaves you with the shorter end of the stick. You get back on your feet right after anyway.”.

The day at the quad when Jinyoung broke up with you comes to mind. You didn’t even fight for it, you normally don’t; you’d rather spend that time getting over something and moving on.

“But Jungkook isn’t like that, Y/N,” she says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Don't you get it? He won’t tell you he feels differently. He won’t tell you and right then and there, realizing you don't feel the same way, just accept it and get over it.”

You look back to that last morning you had together, the tangled limbs, the morning kiss, watching him get ready, the words “stay a little longer” almost slipping past your lips like always, but instead saying that it was nice and comfortable and fun. He smiled then.

“Thanks for doing that for me; you really are a great friend,” is what you said before he left. So you weren’t dreaming the crestfallen look you saw on his face. With furrowed brows he took his phone, multiple messages probably telling him to go back to the dorm, and then he was gone.

Your eyes widen at the memory. That’s what he was referring to. You’d been too frustrated at him ignoring you that you didn’t even bother to think of what might’ve triggered it.

Hyejin seems to pick this up. “So are you now realizing you’re an idiot?”

You smack her arm and she winces, deservedly so.

“Okay, fine. I may have been one but to ignore me like that and then just leave? He waited last minute to tell me what he was feeling and then he fucking left, leaving me here confused and hurt and in agony. That’s way worse than my quick and easy,” you exclaim.

“Sometimes people will cover up the pain rather than just say they’re hurt. Some hearts are wired that way, Y/N. Not everyone does quick and easy. Not everyone gets to accept their own feelings, and upon realizing they’re not reciprocated, moves on right away like you do.”

You let everything sink in.

“It was my second time at that beach yesterday, you know?” You start after a long silence.

“The first time was after Jinyoung had come over to explain himself. I was already over the break up; I left to get over his reason for it. But yesterday when I was down there, all I could think about was how much I miss Jungkook. Like, it was the only thing going through my head the entire time I was there. He was always leaving but I always knew that when he got back, he’d be knocking at my door again…” you trail. You know it isn't going to be the same this time around.

“People have their own reasons for leaving, you always say that. You can never fault them for why they choose to. You leave because you want to figure yourself out. He left because he probably didn't want to deal with what he’s feeling for you.”

Feelings. You always made sure to keep yours in check, but Hyejin was right; you also always expected the same from him.

You look out on the city and get lost in your thoughts. People always thought of you as someone who had things figured out - you know what you want from life and from those who are part of it. You’d walked away from people and let them walk away from you when you knew it had to happen. But this whole deal with Jungkook feels like unfamiliar territory.

If it were someone else, you probably would’ve just let it go, but you keep thinking about Jungkook and the way his dimples still surprise you every time he smiles and how his laugh is so childlike and infectious it annoys you and warms your heart at the same time.

You can't get off your head how it feels to hear him say ‘good morning’ when you wake up and find his arm gently resting on your waist, your fingers always tempted to trace the ink decorating his own.

You warm at the thought of how he manages to make you feel better when you’re tired, how he never makes you feel hopeless when you’re being angry at all the unjust things in the world, how he reminds you of all the good there is during the times you forget.

You think of how you don’t want to lose all that.

“Feelings…” you say. You couldn’t get used to the idea that he has them for you.

“Do you have them too?” Hyejin finally asks.

You were so hung up on how the past week has been, that he ignored you, that he left, that you didn't even stop to think of why, and more importantly, what you feel for him.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve never seen you like this with anyone, though.”

“It’s because I’ve never been like this with anyone.”

“Like what?”

“Cautious?”

“You mean, spending so much time together, constantly talking, kissing, is you being cautious?” She’s asks, incredulous.

You shrug. “It was never anything more.”

“Then why do you do them?” She snaps back.

“Because I want to? I’m always ready for him to turn me down.” It does surprise you every time he says yes to your requests, to your calls, your kisses. “But he never does.”

“But you don’t ask for anything more?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Hyejin groans. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“What did I say?!”

“How can you want all of that and none of it at the same time? Seriously, you guys are like, friends with benefits without the sex…”.

You throw her a piece of bread, scandalized with what she just said. But you laugh at this. Your friends had joked about that before; even his band mates agreed. You were everything and nothing at the same time, stuck in the grey scale that neither of you were willing to admit. Or move away from.

“I think you just wanted everything - you wanted company, you wanted him to stay the night, you wanted to kiss, you wanted him to hold you, you wanted to talk… You wanted to be friends.” When Hyejin says it like that, you do seem like a fool.

“But you didn’t want what those actually implied or even required from you,” she continues. “Almost like there’s this line you’ve set for both of you that only you can see.”

You sigh in frustration. You know when you drew that line, when you’d warned yourself to never cross it, when you’d promised yourself to never want more.

“I guess I always knew what I really felt… I probably just denied it or didn't want it enough,” you think out loud.

“So what now?” She finally asks the painfully obvious question. “What will you do now?”

“Wallow in my self misery and remind myself everyday that I'm an idiot,” you answer back.

“Hmm. You’re too easy on yourself,” she says.

You smack her arm again, which earns you a laugh from her. “I’m kidding! But seriously, now that everything's a little clear, what are you going to do?”

“Make things even clearer?” You sigh. “I feel like such a mess, Hyej. And he’s the one who usually cheers me up when I feel like shit but I can’t ask that from him, now can I?” You say, your body now slumped in your chair, feeling like you’re back to square one.

“You can’t and you won’t.” She walks over to you to pull you up like a big baby. “You’ve got 2 months to figure your shit out before he comes back. Better start now,” she says, as she ushers you back inside.

There’s continuous knocking on the door, causing you to get up from your seat on your work desk and you readied yourself to fight whoever decided to disturb your busy Saturday morning.

You open the door and are greeted with a loud bellow, your name being sung in opera-style by a certain doe-eyed boy.

“Jeon Jungkook, what are you doing! You’re gonna wake the neighbors,” you shout, pulling him inside.

“Your closest neighbor is an old woman who’s hard of hearing. I think we’re good,” he smiles, eyes all innocent-looking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. It’s one of those rare Saturday’s when the guys are afforded a full day off - no practice, no show, no filming. He always looked forward to days like this, which you expect he’d spend sleeping in or exercising or playing Overwatch.

“Got a free day,” he gleams.

“I know but what are you doing here?”

“You’ve been cranky and whiny this whole week. And you don’t respond to my memes,” he says, pouty lips making him look like a little kid that hasn’t been given much attention.

“I told you it’s work. I’m short on time to work on my reports since I got dragged to this week-long event. But I think my brain cells have dissipated; I can’t seem to construct simple sentences anymore,” you sigh, heading for your couch to sink into. “I’m sorry for not responding to your memes.”

“I’ll forgive you only if you come with me.”

“To where?” Your brow quirks up, finally taking in his baggy pants and loose white polo and bucket hat. “And what look are you going for with this whole get up?” You question, not missing the mismatched pieces of clothing and shades perched on his hat.

“Something unassuming. I asked Jin hyung for advice and raided Tae’s closet,” he shrugs.

“So what do you say? Come with me. Take a break! You won’t get any more productive being cooped up in here. Plus, artists need to go out for inspiration and you don’t seem like you’re getting it here,” he says with a smug look. You smack his arm, knowing that last bit he only said to mock you.

But it’s the words you always say to him; now he’s just saying them right back to you. “I promise to buy you snacks,” he says, reaching out his hand to you and pushing you to your room to get dressed.

And that promise he keeps. He rented a simple car so his luxurious one wouldn’t catch attention. You take a drive out of the city, sing your lungs out in the car, and go store hopping. You find supermarkets and convenience stores and little shops to look for different kinds of snacks that you both try and make reviews of. Every pretty view you see has you stopping the car and admiring the scene.

You inhale the fresh air, something you don’t get much in the city, and you appreciate this. You get back to your place, complain about your tummy aches, laugh until you fall asleep, tangled limbs and all, but not before telling him it was the most fun you’d had in a while and your brain feels rejuvenated enough to get the reports done in the next few days.

He falls asleep with that smile, the proud one he’d have on when you show your appreciation for him. He does like getting praises, that much you know.

You wake up to his quiet snores, cheek squished on the pillow with a hand over your waist, like always. You know you have to wake him up soon, which you do with a soft kiss, like always too. You watch him smile into the kiss and return it, until he finally opens his eyes to look at you.

“Get up, sleepyhead. They’ll be calling you over soon,” you say.

You watch him ready himself from your bed, still drowning in that kiss with a lazy smile on your face. You want to tell him to stay a little longer, even if you’re the one pushing him to get ready.

You always want to say that, whether it’s walking out the door at night or getting up from your bed in the morning. You always want to ask him to stay a little bit more but you never do, thankful for whatever time he could spare you, careful not to ask for more than what he could give.

Yesterday was good. You’d been drowning in work, and you’d blown off your friends this past week and you knew that Jungkook had a busy week as well. But yesterday felt nice. He’d given up his own free day to be with you and he willingly did so, knowing that you need it without you saying it out loud.

You had fun during the drive, and even more so exploring the store aisles, figuring out which brand of shrimp cracker or chocolate milk to get, buying all of them anyway, and excitedly opening them, finishing it all up and proceeding to give your review like those YouTubers you both liked to watch.

It always feels like this with him, but you had been so tired and drained that being with him yesterday just made you feel so happy. It showed with how you constantly leaned into him, how you rested your head on his shoulder as he was deciding on the size of banana milk he would buy, knowing he’d be resting his head on yours as a response.

You were missing physical affection and he was always willing to give you that, and you liked that he never seemed to ask for more. You’d initiate and he’d return, you’d pull and he’d let you, no questions asked. It felt comfortable enough, you thought. You didn’t have to explain yourself or your actions. It just always seemed like a given.

He’d said that he was dealing with a lot already as a pop star, that stuck with you and you knew from then on it was code for him not wanting to get into a relationship, and despite having being single for a little over a year already, you had too much going on in your life too that you didn’t really need any commitments at this point. You were on the same page, for sure.

It was nice and comfortable and fun, that’s what you tell him. You’re referring to the day you had, and what it’s like with him too, in general. You watch him pull his gray hoodie over his head. The black one, his favorite, you’d worn the night before, and you hug yourself to say you don’t want to return it yet.

He chuckles, “Fine. I’ll get it back the next time I see you.” You like his scent, but you’d never say this to him too.

You stand up to head to the kitchen, feeling refreshed and ready to be productive for the rest of the week. You know it had so much to do with the previous day, as if the laughter and smiles you had made up for that entire week when you barely did either. You give him a quick hug. “Thanks for that, Jungkook. You really are a great friend.”

His face falls a little bit, as he clutches onto his phone to check the multiple messages probably telling him to go back home. You don’t think much of it. When you turn back to him, he’s gone.

part 1 drabble <<>> part 2 drabble

series masterlist

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts jungkook #idol jungkook

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psychewithwings · 3 years

Text

The Canary Pt. 2 Todoroki x F!

hi, this is pt 2 of my Shouto Todoroki x musician!reader where its a hot mess bc its kinda a love triangle with Enji????

Listen if ya missed pt 1... its here

TW: anything on my page is 18+, fuck outta here children and get some juice... manipulative relationships, messy love situation/ love triangle, hints at abusive relationship (between reader and her ex), her ex is also a drug addict... and a criminal... if you're wondering why this is such a messy fic its inspired by my watching the show euphoria...

and lemme address this: i know enji got a redemption arc but i wanted to write him with a similar vibe to nates dad from euphoria... to explore the manipulative sides of age gap relationships or relationships with clearly unbalanced power dynamics, my portrayal of him here is not what i would deem perfectly canon but more a vessel for the plot and ideas i want to explore with this piece and the complexities within it, now... that being said... i give you a long awaited pt 2 to The Canary

You watch as Shouto opens the front door and slips away into the night. The door closes and upon hearing the latch click you realize you’d been holding your breath. You exhale long and slow, still stunned by Shouto’s vulnerability. He worries he will never be able to save himself. Yes, you very much relate to that problem. There is something about Shouto that scares you, looking at him in person, it feels like he is someone you’d known forever, that you should have memories of him but the place in your mind that they should be, is blank.

How he feels about you is still incredibly unclear. You had been very aware of how carefully he watched you during your meal, his eyes seemingly tracking each of your movements and committing them to memory. Dinner was uncomfortable, you had wanted to hide and simultaneously prove yourself to him; that you were different from his idea of who you must be considering the circumstances. You knew what he thought; that you were just some shallow girl dating his dad for the money. But that wasn’t the truth.

Maybe someday you and Shouto would learn the truth of who the other was, your pasts, desires for the future, and maybe what that feeling was that made him seem so familiar. You could easily picture yourself trying to make him laugh on a warm spring day and you smile to yourself.

“Well I’m glad to see you smiling,” Enji remarks as he sits next to you on the couch. “Shouto can be a bit harsh, I apologize…” Enji murmurs and wraps his arm around you, a protective and comforting gesture. “No, it’s okay, it’s only natural for him to feel suspicious or confused,” you console. You pull your legs onto the couch and snuggle into the cushions.“I’ll talk to him about it,” he offers but you shake your head. “No, it’s really okay, I think he’s warming up to me.” Enji raises an eyebrow at you and smiles slightly. “Shouto doesn’t warm up to others easily… or at all,” he dismisses and kisses your cheek. You look up at him and blink. “I’m not worried ‘bout it… best to just give it time,” you smile. Enji gives you a single nod before his expression falls stern. “As much as I enjoy your optimism, we need to discuss Friday, I won’t be able to go and I don’t want you going alone.” You inhale slowly and hold your breath until you can figure out the words exactly.

“Enji, I told you, I can take care of myself for a night, I don't need you to watch over me every time I do a gig.” His gaze bores into yours, eyes piercing. “And I’ve asked you nicely not to play this weekend, you’re sophisticated now, a place like the Viper Lounge should be considered beneath you.” You move away from his touch, crossing your arms. While Enji is more supportive than anyone else about your music career, he still didn’t understand. He had been a hero, a place like The Viper is considered scummy in his circle but for you it’s the holy grail of performance venues. You explain time and time again and the words are becoming dull and grey with repetition. “It’s one of the best places for someone who’s looking to get scouted to perform… and the Viper invited me, that's a big deal.” Enji shifts to face you, “I know this feels big to you but it’s just a small set in a shitty dive.”

A part of you wanted to cry hearing those words, but the tears didn’t come. Just a small, sad smile. “There’s going to be talent scouts and agents there… just to see who was selected for the line up and I’m the closing set… It's a pretty big deal.”

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Shouto walks from the house, his head filled with thoughts of you. Your smile, your voice, that ridiculous yellow guitar. Your eyes, their inquisitive nature. He thinks back to his answer to your question, “I'm afraid that no matter how many people I save, that I’ll never be able to save myself.” He sighs, he can’t remember the last time he could be so honest with someone, let alone someone who was practically a stranger… But there is something about you that seems oddly familiar, though for what reason he felt this way was unclear.

He is about halfway to his car when he feels how light his pants pocket is. His phone… he must have left it inside somewhere, maybe the kitchen? He sighs, he doesn’t want to return to the house, to have to look at you again after being so honest. He had been bold in hopes of- well he isn’t all that sure why he had said something like that so openly, all he knows is the heat is creeping to his cheeks. He takes a breath before hesitantly opening the door. He collects himself, hoping you wont be able to see his embarrassment.

“I told you, there will be plenty more opportunities and you won't have to perform in such a dump,” he hears his fathers voice. He knows that voice… Shouto opens his mouth to call out but shuts it again hearing your icy tone, “you’re not listening... Enji.” Shouto’s eyebrows raise in surprise, you’re not as childish as he first thought. In fact, it seems you’re holding your own against his father in an argument of sorts. He hears Enji laugh mockingly, “I’m not listening? What about Kai?” There’s a long pause, the sound of cicadas filling Shouto’s ears while the name Kai tumbles around his mind. He knew that name from somewhere. “What about Kai?” your voice is so low he can barely hear it. “Is he going to be there?” Enji pushes. Your voice raises slightly in aggravation, “I don't know, I don't talk to Kai, I haven’t said a word to him since the day I left.” Enji scoffs, “Really? It’s suspicious that the Viper Lounge invites you to perform when you’re almost a year out of that scene, he has connections there, what if he’s just using this “gig” as an excuse to get close to you? C’mon y/n, use your head.” Enji’s tone is viciously condescending. Shouto clenches his jaw, waiting for your reply. “I’ve thought about that possibility, but it's an event to showcase new upcoming artists and I haven’t performed there solo before, so I don’t find it totally unbelievable they would ask me.” For once Enji has no rebuttal and you take that as your cue to continue. “Kai isn’t even in the line up… and even if he was, I’m going because this is important to me, this has nothing to do with him.”

Shouto couldn’t keep standing outside listening, he had to get his phone now. He briskly steps inside and shuts the door loudly behind him. “I left my phone,” he announces as he walks through the house to the kitchen. The silence that follows his interruption makes him worry you both figured out he had been listening, though perhaps you were both just embarrassed to be caught arguing. He finds his phone by the kitchen sink and pockets it quickly, before heading back towards the door. He nods towards you both before turning his back.

“Hey Shouto?” The sound of your voice stops him in his tracks. He shifts carefully to face you and sees your eyes glinting with mischief. “You own a hero agency right?” Shouto nods, watching carefully to see where you were going with this. “I’m sure then that you would have a hero capable of a simple bodyguard job, for just this little gig I’m doing on Friday, I know it’s last minute so if you don’t have anyone… I’ll be fine.” He had to play this carefully so as not to expose himself for eavesdropping. “Where’s the gig?” “The Viper Lounge,” Enji scoffs. His father must be furious that you’ve now involved a third party. If there was something Enji Todoroki hated, it was airing his dirty laundry. Shouto was careful not to laugh… you were far smarter than he initially gave you credit for.

“I’ve performed at the Viper before… tons of times-``''You have, but only with Kai Chisaki.” Your face tells Shouto that name hits a sore spot. Hearing his whole name sparks Shouto’s memory and he realises who Kai is. Kai Chisaki, an underground rapper… face tattoos and some nasty habits that earned him a hell of a rap sheet; burglary, assault, possession of unlicensed weapons, public indecency, drug counts too high to keep track of… He’d been arrested again a few months ago, but just like the last, he was bailed out and the charges were dismissed.

“But the Viper asked me to be a part of this gig for showing off upcoming talent… Enji’s just worried for me because he can't be there and my ex has a reputation- ``''That’s putting it lightly,” Enji interrupts, “he’s scum, deserves to rot in prison.” You rub your palms on your thighs and smile gently at Shouto. “I just think the situation would be more comfortable for everyone if I had some protection… Maybe you know of someone that could watch out for me for the night?”

Shouto resists the urge to volunteer, though the temptation of hearing your voice again is overwhelming. “Tch- as if I would trust any of the foolish heroes Shouto babysits to watch after you in that cesspool…” You gaze at Enji with big doe eyes, your body turning, hands inching towards his father’s legs. “You trust Shouto don’t you?” Enji pauses, before he sighs “I do.” You give him a winning smile, “then he’ll pick someone fit for the job.” Enji’s brow creases pensively, “Shouto,” he addresses. Shouto meets his father’s eyes, his heartbeat quickening as he realises what he’s about to ask. “What are your plans Friday? Could you take her?”

Shouto pretends to consider it, but really he counts the seconds until he can agree. He didn’t really know what it was about you that made him want to go with you so badly to this gig. It’s a separate part of himself that Shouto was unfamiliar with, a part of him that wasn’t thinking but desired only to know you… or understand you? There was just something about you. That was all he knew for sure. He nods, trying his best to hide his true feelings. “I could make arrangements to accompany y/n, as long as,” he looks at you, “you’re comfortable with that.” You hold out your hands defensively and shake your head, “if you have to move things around- you’re so busy- I-I don’t wanna cause you any trouble.” Shouto dismisses your statement, “it’s not trouble, I wouldn’t agree otherwise.”

You shift uncomfortably, “as long as you’re sure…” Shouto turns towards the door, facing forward as he leaves you with these words. “It’s important to you, right? Just accept my help.” He opens the door, and holds the frame tightly. He knows he shouldn’t, he hears the chorus of voices telling him not to look back, but it's that one part of him again that takes control and turns his head. He can’t help but smile slightly seeing your expression. Mouth parted and brow raised slightly in surprise. Beautiful.

“We’ll connect about details sometime during the week,” he confirms, “see you Friday.” He hears you call out your gratitude as he closes the door and makes for his car. He slides into the driver's seat and turns on the engine and looks towards his childhood home. The light from the windows casts a glow onto the grass. He finally exhales and with each new breath he gains more clarity about the situation. He shouldn’t care about you, he can’t let himself get any closer. He would help you with this gig and go back to avoiding family dinner like the plague. Shouto leans his head back into the seat and puts the car in reverse. He tries his best to shake off these thoughts but that little devil on his shoulder keeps cackling and whispering suggestions he chooses to immediately ignore.

He pulls out of the driveway and onto the road, pushing thoughts of you away and doing his best to find another topic to think about, something to distract him from the confusion of his swirling emotions. But as much as he tries, he can’t stop thinking about you.

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#todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #bnha #mha #bnha todoroko #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #romancefiend #amelia writes

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redxblueihateloveyou · 3 years

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You know it's always really funny to me when mhs say that had it not been for swimming Haru and Rin would've never become friends bc I'm like, that's how relationships work???? You initially connect bc of something you have in common and go from there???? In that case you can also apply it to mh bc if Haru and Makoto had not been neighbors since they were young they probably would've never become friends either, but nobody wants to mention that bc then their argument crumbles lol

Anyways, your blog is literally the best and your rh (and general) takes are always so nice to read

I'm... same, I just do not understand what’s new about this? Like my mom and dad met while they were both working at school, if I started talking with a guy cause he told me that he liked my chibi Akashi bag and anime, is this not allowed? This in no way means that that’s all we like about each other or smth, this means this one thing brought us together.

This is the reason why I dislike mh fans so much. Because the majority of them instead of posting some canon facts and truthful arguments, they either twist some words into something unrecognizable, either try to change a rh moment into mh. I just always thought ppl ship things for what they are, not what they are not...

And the main problem in this happening and the error in their equation is Haru. Cause they’re trying so hard to sew him into that but with everything he says and do he constantly falls off and they end up with mako-haha. It’s like they say that Makoto is the reason that Haru walks into his future, which is hilarious tbh, and the next movie airs and what do you know Haru is yelling at Rin’s face how “he only walks towards the future and wants it bc of him”, they say that s2 relay teams are what they truly want which everyone knows ain’t true and boom drama airs and Haru and Rin are talking how it’s not the same if they’re not together on the team. They air all the birthday stories and oh no, Rin is special again. I remember how they were running around after that frfr! episode, where Rin tries to make Haru laugh and Makoto says he actually already heard it before and turns out it was kid Haru’s evil laugh in his sleep at school. Like what is so special about that? And how is this mh related? Haru was cutely laughing watching Rin sleep and just reading his text.. that’s yeah, that’s the reason to fuss.

Their problem is always Haru, he never fits their mh plan like ever. But do they listen to him? No. Because we have a moment IN THE ANIME, where Haru says “RIN, I WANT TO BE LIKE YOU, TOO.” meaning he wants to be as brave/daring/passionate, etc. cause Rin represents freedom for him. Okay, I’d get why some needed me to post an arguments list for “Rin doesn’t like Haru only for his swimming”, which is still hilarious to me, but okay, he does have a kink in books about Haru moving in the water and goes about it for several pages, but with Haru this is actually not the case.

I don’t know if anyone noticed it, but swimming is not what attracts Haru the most about Rin and never was. It’s his character and state of mind and the way he makes him feel aka free. It doesn’t matter what they do, like whether they eat their rolls or draw new years fortunes. Haru said his whole body is on fire just when he looks at Rin and he doesn’t even notice how he starts smiling when Rin talks to him. It’s just the way he makes him feel. And swimming has nothing to do with that. Sorry, guys lmao.

Did they seriously just erase this moment, when Rin writes how he wants swim as fast as Haru in his letter, but Haru looks at the sky and he has this kaleidoscope of Rin’s pic in his mind and what he says next is "Rin, I want to be like you, too.”

And he means what he says. It’s not about the swimming truly, he admires the fact that Rin follows his dreams with such passionate determination. Mind the fact that moments of Rin that flash before his eyes in this moment a) when Rin openly gushes about Haru’s swimming in front of everyone; b) when he yells in front of the whole class that if he wants a relay with Haru, he will bloody get it; c) his swimming; d) when he tells Haru that he’s a sight he never saw before he’s gonna show him the sight he’s never seen before. It’s about how what Rin wants, Rin fights for until he gets it. Haru is in love with his passion, always was, always will be.

Haru doesn’t want to “swim like Rin” although they did compliment each other by saying “I find your strength amazing” “but I find your stamina amazing”, and Haru always drools about the power behind Rin’s strokes, but Haru swims in his own beautiful way. And while he adores the way Rin swims, that’s still not his favorite thing about Rin and never was. Every time he talks about Rin it’s always about his personality and surprisingly... it’s rarely about swimming. When he thinks about Rin it’s always stuff like... how he is so colorful and intense and full of life and passionate about his dreams and how he stands out among everyone else to him, not about his swimming skills.

So this argument is dumb AF tbh. I’m like.. yeah, and Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying for his demonic cultivation skills. Not because of his strong character, daring heart and his incredible ability to tick him off and light his cold ass on fire.

P.S. Seriously tho this is the first shipping base I see who just always for some reason does this stupid thing with finding a crumb and actively trying to make it into a bread but then realise it’s realistically impossible so they just replace it with a plastic one and pretend it’s real. This in fact makes your ship ridiculous. You can’t try to push the line that Rin is abusive (thats still lol) and how Makoto is better for Haru, since Rin did everything to make Haru reach his dream and made him happy and he’s the only one who can help Haru, when he feels down like in s2 and then with Albert and etc. Makoto can’t. It’s the truth, just let it go. I know there are not much positives sides in mh relationships to be honest in my opinion, but there are still some (?). Why not base your arguments on truth? Like at least it’s gonna be mh, not some imaginary thing. Either love mh for mh or don’t. Like yeah, Haru doesn’t resiprocate, but maybe one-sided stuff is your kink, ok, explore this, fine, but don’t try to make Haru into somebody else. Then it’s not your ship anymore.

It’s just funny to me like that Rin here writes poems about Haru and openly flirts with him in restaurants and plans their future together and I don’t even need to exagerate anything, it’s just how it really is and meanwhile mh is like “remember how 7 years ago Utsumi said that Rin and Haru wouldn’t be friends if it wasn’t for swimming, so mh is the shit”.. like I’m sorry, but I think I’m allowed to laugh at this. Sometimes you just have to let it go, seriously. Or at least like idk think before you post (and I know that it has like 3 retweets and no one cares, but still 3 ppl agreed and it reached me somehow, so..). My policy is when I create posts about my ships is validation. Like my last Rinharu facts youtube post got 5K likes, I didn’t post my thoughts, just their moments and at the end I specifically said “I have links/translations to all of this, so name thing you want to read, I’ll link you” and I linked everyone whatever they wanted.

This is how you tell ppl a story of why you love this ship and make them fall in love with it, too. Not by making up lies about what’s not there and twisting someone’s words (like this person wrote “thats what she really meant *adds complete nonsense*). And I know mh do not have any of this stuff that rh have, but if you really ship mh, find something real and go from there. Seriously, it’s better if you have smth small, but real, than a huge lie.

Also I still think ship is about two people, not just one. Why mh don’t want to listen to anything Haru says or wants like at all? That’s just sad.

P.P.S. Thanks for liking my blog, this makes me so happy <3<3<3

#answered #anonymous #Free!#free #anime #rinharu #harurin #sharkbait #rin matsuoka #nanase haruka #Haru x Rin #free! iwatobi swim club

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hoppe-ideas · 4 years

Text

4th of July

Reposting bc the first one didn’t gain much traction. It was hastily written after 4th of July and barely had any proof reading. Also, some of y’all want to read what I write.

Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Janus, Logan, Roman, Remus, Patton

Ships: DRLAMPT (Romantic or Platonic, they all live together in a giant house) Analogical (Very slightly, if you squint)

Warnings: I don’t know, Virgil gets upset, panic attack, crying. Tell me if i miss something.

Summary: Virgil normally loves the holidays, just not this one.

Virgil loved the holidays, he loved the food, the chaos, the laughter, and everything in between. Even the fighting was enjoyable to watch, the scuffles in the living room, and the little food fights in the kitchen. He loved the smell of Christmas, the energy of halloween, the serenity of Easter and St. Patrick's day, the fullness in his chest and belly during thanksgiving, and the crazy fortitude of new years eve. The one holiday though, the only holiday he does not love, not even like, is independence day. Otherwise known as 4th of July.

If anyone asked Virgil why he doesn’t like this specific holiday, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. He didn’t know why he didn’t like it, every year it was the same; Patton would bbq, Roman and Remus would decorate, Logan and Janus would set up the fireworks. One time they let the twins take control of the fireworks and almost burned down the place. Normally Virgil would help Thomas set the bonfire up, or decorate, or help Patton, or Janus, but today he didn’t want any part of it. He just wanted to drink some coffee and listen to some tunes, but apparently Roman had other plans. Virgil didn’t even finish half his coffee, or his song before Roman snatched him away, taking his headphones away as well.

Immediately Virgil’s arms were full of bright reds and blues to be placed all over the place, the sunlight didn’t make it any better, shining right in his eyes. It wouldn’t be as bad if he had his headphones, but Roman took them away and now he got the pleasure of listening to the twins sing the entire soundtrack of Hamilton; “In honor of our founding fathers!” Roman declared right before Remus pushed him off the step ladder. After a few hours of decorating, Virgil went to find his headphones and a cold cup of coffee.

Why waste good coffee? Virgil grabbed a cup filled with ice and dumped the coffee into the cup making iced coffee. He was about to finish listening to his song when Patton came into the kitchen.

“Oh perfect! Virgil i need your help with the food, we’ll be needing watermelon and cantaloupe cut up, the baked beans need to be cooked, lemonade to be made, salads to be tossed, cakes to be made, and i still need to prep the meat for the bbq tonight.” Patton grabbed two aprons, one yellow one for himself and a royal purple for Virgil. Without time to intervene Patton placed it on Virgil and took the headphones away once again. “No music, I need to be able to talk to you while cooking. No distractions.” At least he got to keep his coffee this time.

Patton talked to him the entire time, non stop talking and directions left and right of how to cook and make everything. Once the cake was in the oven, melon cut, beans cooked, and salad tossed; Patton had finished prepping the meat and said he could do the rest and thanked Virgil. Virgil looked at the time, it was nearing three thirty in the afternoon, as hungry as he was he finished his coffee two hours ago and was now tired. He decided a small nap on the couch would be perfect. That is until Logan came in looking for Virgil asking for his assistance.

“Shouldn’t be too long, we just need some help setting up the fireworks in a safe place away from the bonfire and twins.” Virgil sighed into the pillow and got up to help Janus and Logan, everything was set up until Janus muttered a few curse words along with Remus’s name.

“That bastard, he got into the fireworks and took some, we don’t have enough. Virgil can you go grab some more for us? Logan and I can finish up here, thank you.” Virgil set out to get more fireworks which proved more socially demanding than normal. Too many people, screaming kids, angry Karens’, and a long line for last minute fireworks. It took nearly an hour to just grab what they needed and returned home. The house they all shared looked like America threw up on it, no thanks to him and the twins. Logan greeted him, taking the fireworks while conducting small talk. Once they got to the backyard, Patton was bbq-ing, roman was lounging in the sun, Janus was fighting Remus away from the fireworks they set up, and the bonfire stayed empty.

“Hey! Panic at the everywhere, are you going to start the bonfire or what?” Virgil turned towards Roman and shook his head.

“Not until Thomas gets here with the wood, he said he would be picking some up after work.” Sadly Thomas didn’t have today off, he had to work at the production company he worked at. He was a commercial actor and they decided they wanted to get some holiday shots for a clothing ad. While taking the opportunity of peace, Virgil went back inside to try and find his headphones; there was only one problem. He couldn’t find them, not in the living room, or the kitchen, or the office, his bedroom, the bathroom, the twins room, hell even the closet. Instead of panicking, he took a few deep breaths and decided to check his room again. That was until Patton came to ask for his help setting up the table outside where they eat.

Once he finished with that, Thomas’s truck pulled up and jogged over to Virgil, his smile was contagious as he asked for help with the bundles of wood. Sure from taking the firewood to the bonfire pit was only fifteen feet away but it was a lot of heavy wood to carry on a hot evening. Once that was all done, Thomas started the fire and Virgil had a raging headache that he could feel build up through out the day. Dinner was delicious, everyone thanked Patton and Virgil and dived in. The problem was that everyone was loud, laughter and arguments filled the air with distant fireworks blasting off. Remus gave a hollar every time one was especially loud, and it didn’t help that Remus sat next to Virgil, even splashing some lemonade on him.

After dinner was desert, which was cake and some s’mores by the fire. When everyone sat by the fire Virgil went back inside to take some medicine, he felt exhausted and irritated. He found the pill bottle but no pills. He could feel the headache turning into a migraine and a panic attack starting to settle as well. If he only had his headphones-

“Virgil?” He spun around to find Logan standing in the doorway of the bathroom, silence sat in the room only Virgil’s breathing can be heard.

“Is there something you need?” He meant to sound harsh, but it came out soft.

“Yes, we are starting the fireworks but waiting on you.” Virgil shook his head and began shuffling around the medicine cabinet trying to find some more pills.

“You guys go on ahead, I'll skip it this year. Have you seen my headphones?” He asked while inspecting an expired bottle of Advil.

“Ah, no, i have not seen your headphones, but Patton is persistent on waiting for you. Just one firework and then you can return.” Virgil half listened while still rummaging through the cabinet, Logan grabbed his wrists and set them down. “Remus used all the headache medicine for a creative project, i was going to buy some more tomorrow. Just one firework and then you can leave, i’ll even help you find your headphones.” Virgil nodded and Logan led him outside hand in hand. Once outside, Patton bounded up to him wrapping an arm around him giggling for the fireworks to start.

One firework turned into two, which turned into three, then five, then ten. He was holding a lit sparkler while everyone cheered at the colors in the sky. Virgil didn’t bother to look up, his eyes hurt, his head hurt, his body hurt, everything just hurt. Then the twins found the smoke bombs and lit every single one. Virgil felt suffocated, he didn’t realize he fell crying and screaming until everybody rushed him back inside.

“Virgil? Virgil, buddy can you hear me?” Thomas’s voice was muddled, he felt heavy and he couldn’t stop shaking. His head hurt so much he cried harder, not realizing someone picked him up and placed him on the couch. He looked up through bleary eyes to see Patton holding his headphones to him, that right. Patton took them away when they were cooking and they must have forgotten about it. He placed them on his head playing soft calming music, he dug his head into the pillows of the couch sniffling softly.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He muttered wincing at his hoarse voice. He felt a weighted blanket be placed over him and the lights turned down low. Weight shifted around him as he suspected they sat down with him on their overly large couch.

“Virgil.” Janus’s voice cooed as he took off his headphones to silence, only off distant sounds of fireworks in the background. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Virgil shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. Which was a mistake because he whimpered from the pain.

“I ruined the fireworks.” He muttered he felt someone put an arm around him.

“Falsehood. You didn’t ruin anything. If anything we ruined today for you, you were the only one not having fun today.” Logans’ monotone voice soothed some tension from his shoulders, but the cuddles he was receiving some cuddles from everyone. Janus and Logan sat on each side of Virgil, the twins sat down by his feet, Thomas started to play The Black Cauldron, and Patton started to put everything away and went to go get some more medicine.

Virgil didn’t like the 4th of July, but he did love his family.

The End.

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ktheist · 4 years

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for the drabble game; so oc is at a restaurant and hears a couple having an argument at the table beside her. and when she made eye contact with one of them she realised that the man is namjoon, the ex she never got over. perhaps exes to lovers? ive had this idea for a long time and i think itll be interesting to see how the story follows!

it’s him.

you knew at first glance, since the moment you took the seat facing him a few tables away. after all, you’d be disappointed in yourself if you couldn’t recognize the other half of what made the supposed ‘power couple’. you’d always laugh at that name - it started out as a joke in your circle of friends and eventually spread far and wide.

it was because namjoon was the top student in his class and you were the student council president. the underlying humor in it was that while namjoon was exceptionally good at studying, you were the opposite - excellent social skills (which was what made you land the president post), can work well under pressure but failing in terms of grades.

“you’re perfect for each other!” jungkook - that little shit of a junior, you hope he’s doing well wherever he is now - had declared with barely contained laughter when namjoon looked like he was a second away from banging his head against the desk in the student council room as he tutored you. that was something coming from someone with patience higher than half of the people you’ve ever known and you’ve known and worked with a lot of people since becoming president.

in the end, you passed - got better grades than you expected and retired as president without any regrets.

so when you see him five years later while you’re having dinner with your colleagues and he seems to be on a date with the woman whose back is on you, you don’t exactly know what to do or say except pretend like you don’t know him.

the woman’s voice is getting higher with each sentence. and you’re not the only one who noticed.

“couples who make a scene are the worst.” eunbi grumbles - you chalk it up with the fact that she’s had a particularly bad day at work what with the director pressuring her to finish three reports all within this week.

‘everyone has their bad days,’ is what you’re about to say out of pure reflex but it’s in that moment that your eyes meet namjoon’s. he still has that effect on you - the heart skipping, breath hitching kind. from the way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, you know he’s not pretending to have only spotted you. it’s genuine, unbridled surprise. whether good or bad, you don’t know.

you’re not sure what to do - should you wave? mouth a friendly ‘hi’? or just shoot a smile? either way none of them suit your situation - you don’t deserve an ounce of his attention after pulling the biggest dick move, packed your things while he was away on a seminar and letting him know it was over when he came back to an empty home and emptier bedroom two days later.

the woman’s voice - it’s full out screaming now - catches his attention. it happens within less than one minute, heated exclamation of ‘you never listen!’ her standing up with her handbag hoisted over her arm before storming out of the restaurant.

namjoon doesn’t go after her immediately - you knew he wouldn’t leave without apologizing to the server and bowing to the staff as along the way.

the second time you see him is about over a month later at the same restaurant. it’s been a tough day - your manager is pressuring your team for at least three new designs so the client could choose which one they like better and they need to get done by this monday so you only have five days from now.

a shadow had towered over the table while you were looking through the menu and you thought it was the waiter.

“hey,” he shoots you that signature dimpled smile, so free of hatred or resentment - you don’t deserve it. “mind if i sit?”

but the smile falls off his face a heartbeat after he said that - it’s replaced with a sheepish one, probably because he went ahead without considering if you were waiting for someone and he just asked if he could third wheel -

“sure,” you say simply, offering a smile that doesn’t exactly match the familiarity in his.

he doesn’t talk about that woman and you don’t ask.

instead, the conversation treads on your present life. he’s currently working at a law firm somewhere in the neighboring city. it’s no secret that he loves his job from the way he talks about it and the stars that glint in his eyes - they’re the same stars you fell in love with. that eagerness to learn new things and help others with the knowledge he gains - he hasn’t changed one bit.

“you know i thought you’d be teacher,” you don’t know how you sit here and regard him so casually but build your walls up so high as if he’s a stranger, “you were always so good at tutoring.”

he must have noticed because the chuckle that tumbles out of his mouth is a little strained and he’s looking down at his plate of spaghetti more times than you can count - the namjoon you knew always looked at people in their eyes when he’s talking to them.

your heart clenches at the thought that he probably regrets joining you for dinner. probably swore not to come here on -

“on thursdays.i came by last week to and the week before last week.” this time, he’s looking right into the windows of your soul and you don’t dare let your thoughts wander to the what-ifs.

and it seems you don’t have to because he’s already confirming the subconscious thoughts swirling in the back of your mind.

“i wanted to see you again.” he nervously rubs the back of his neck as though finally realizing how ridiculous it sounds to be dropping by a restaurant that’s an hour from his place just for a strike of luck - a wishful thinking, that he’d see you again.

he did, but-

“why?” all of a sudden the memories are burning at the back of your eyes, those library dates, his coffee order that you memorized by heart, the impromptu weekend trips - all that ruined because of you, “why would you do something so uncertain? you don’t even know if i’ll come here again or ever.”

namjoon isn’t one to beat around the bush - he may not find the words to explain his emotions, yes but he’s always been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve. and the answer painstakingly obvious as his brows furrow and his eyes glisten with a sort of fear for the uncertain - just like that time he asked you out all those years ago.

“i just - it’s the only lead i have on you.”

note: hahhaha i’M SORRY i had to end it there (and yes, with all the unanswered questions and the tension and the cliff hang) bc cliffhangers are fun to write but not fun to reAD HAHAHAH

request for the 1,111 vibers drabble are still open by the way!

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts x reader #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon #bts x y/n #bts x yn #namjoon scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #bts namjoon #ex!namjoon #1111 vibers drabble

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

July 5th, 1981 (WITT One-Shot)

A/N: It’s my birthday but so is Mel’s!! I wanted to post something, it also works so you guys can know Matthew a little better, I’m gonna do more extras like this for sure, but it might be a while before I post another. -Danny

Words: 2,688

Warnings: It’s not proof-read bc it’s my birthday guys I don’t have the time jsdsfjs also this has a sappy ending, sorry not sorry

Series’ Masterlist

July 5th, 1981.

It was quiet, this wasn’t how she had pictured her daughter’s first birthday would be.

When she was younger, her parents would always throw the biggest parties, that stopped once she went to Hogwarts, but they would always send howlers singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and she would always die of embarrassment. Now she would give anything to receive one again.

‘This is not about me’, she quickly corrects. ‘Today all that matters is that we’re together.

Emily was nervous though, James and Lily were supposed to remain hidden but they had found a way to convince Dumbledore to help them get to Matt and Em’s house so they could celebrate both, Mel and Harry’s first birthday together.

Harry’s birthday was actually way after Mel’s, but is not like they could really be moving places all the time, not when they knew there was so much at stake.

So there she was, nervously waiting for Lily and James to arrive with their son, Matthew and Sirius escorting the family to give extra security.

“Em, if you keep messing with Mel’s ribbon she’ll bite your hand,” Remus warned her calmly. “They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“I don’t worry about them being late,” She said, putting her daughter back in the playpen. “I worry about… you know, the journey.”

“They’ll be fine,” Remus shook his head. “Didn’t Matthew just got promoted to Head Auror?”

“Yes, and if you ask me that’s the biggest nonsense I’ve heard.”

“Is it?” The man raised a brow. “Thought you’d be happy.”

“I am,” Emily brushed it off, “you know this didn’t make Matt happier, every day he talks about murders, accidents… Now I understand why my mother hated so much when my dad would talk about that in front of me.”

“Listen,” Remus stood up and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her rambling. “There’s someone at the back door…”

Emily ran to the kitchen then, she walked in the exact moment James and Lily were taking off the cloak, little Harry clinging to her Mother’s neck.

“Where’s Matt?” Emily asked a bit too frantically.

James let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

“We’re happy to see you too, Mily.”

“Don’t be mean, you’d be asking the same thing if it were me the one who left hours ago to pick up some friends,” Lily scolded him, then she turned back to Emily. “He’s with Sirius making sure no one followed us, they’ll be here in a moment.”

“Okay,” Emily nodded, though she still looked nervous.

“Hey!” Remus walked in, he was holding Mel and the little girl was playing quietly with the hem of his sweater. “Thought you might want to say hello to the birthday girl…”

“Hey there, little Em!” James was the first to stir into action, he quickly made his way over to the baby and stole her from Remus grip. “Blimey, I saw you last week, but I could swear you weren’t this big!”

“She looks so much like you, Em”, Lily smiled, walking over to her husband and holding Harry a bit more closer to his father so the babies could see each other.

“Only on the outside,” Emily shook her head, “She’s all her father, that one. Trust me, she’s so quiet I barely register when she’s around.”

“Give her time, once she learns how to speak you’ll have her giving out orders like the bossy girl she’s destined to be, just like her mother– aren’t you, love?” James smirked, tickling the girl’s belly.

The little girl laughed, Harry’s attention was inmediately drawn to the sound and he reached out to touch the girl’s face. Lily pulled him back with a laugh.

“Easy there! We don’t want you fighting like last time”

“Fighting?” Emily asked, her attention abruptly leaving the window and turning to face the young couple. “Matthew never mentioned they fought”.

“Well, that’s cause it’s a baby fight, they don’t count,” James explained.

“Are you talking about the time you and Sirius got mad for a day because you stole his chocolate frog?” Matthew walked in, followed by Sirius. “Cause that sure was childish.”

“Newsflash, asshole. We were children,” Sirius hit the back of his head.

Matthew walked straight to the faucet to wash his hands, but just as he was about to start, Emily let out a loud, exasperated breath.

“Matt!” Emily rushed over to her husband and gave him a firm kiss on the cheek, she cupped his face with both hands and examined him carefully, causing him to laugh.

“I left for just an hour love, I’m all right…”

“She knows that, she’s just checking if you finally got some brains inside that huge head of yours,” James teased.

Matthew threw him the cloth he was using to dry his hands and James yelled.

“Hey! I’m holding your daughter!”

“Not anymore!” Sirius quickly took the baby in his arms and started to twirl around the way he knew would make her laugh non-stop. “How’s our little Em doing, huh?”

“She has a name, you know?” Emily said, crossing her arms.

“Right, a name that’s derived from a nickname Matthew gave you in school,” James shrugged. “So it’s the same.”

“Enough, give me my child, Sirius,” Emily huffed.

“No!” Sirius held onto the baby tighter. “This is the first time I see her in weeks, give me a moment.”

“Who knew Sirius would turn out to be such a fan?” Lily laughed. “Never thought I’d see you grow attached to a baby until Mel and Harry were born.”

“Not me, that’s certain,” Sirius raised a brow, his eyes softening at the way Mel would giggle.

“Shall we start the party, then?” Remus asked. “I’m starving.”

“Unexpected,” James snorted.

“Shut up, Prongs.”

Most of the group moved to the living room, Emily stopped James and Lily at the doorframe.

“Sorry for not saying hi,” Emily sighed heavily, “It’s just… waiting has never been my favorite hobby.”

“Tell me about it,” James said, she knew he hated having to stay at home instead of fighting along his friends, but his family came first and Harry was in danger, Emily was feeling exactly like him, having to stay so she could take care of Mel while Matthew was out…

Emily hugged both of them quickly before guiding them to the living room.

“Okay, but which one do you think will be the real trouble maker?” Sirius asked to the group.

He was sitting on the floor right next to Harry and Mel, who were playing loudly, unaware of what the adults were saying.

“Oh, Harry for sure,” Emily said, at the same time Lily replied ‘Mel, certainly.’

“What?” They asked at the same time.

“What makes you think my daughter is the right choice?”

“What makes you think my son is?”

“Oh, are you about to fight? Should I take the kids upstairs?”

“Shut up, Sirius!”

“I think you’re both wrong,” James replied. “You think that with a mother like Lily and a father like Matt our children have any chance to misbehave?”

“Oh, you think that with a mother like Emily and a father like you they won’t be tempted to go behind our backs?” Matthew raised a brow. “That’s bollocks.”

“You know, as long as they don’t set their rooms on fire or something, I think we’ll manage,” Lily said with a shrugged.

“What if they start dating?” Sirius asked excitedly.

“I mean, eventually they will–”

“Hold on, who said anything about dating?” Matthew perked up. “My daughter has no reason to be thinking about dates until she’s nineteen, eighteen at best.”

“Shut up, Ruddy, you asked me on a date when we were fifteen.”

“Yeah, and how did that turn out, huh?” Matthew asked pointedly.

“Dunno, with you marrying the girl of your dreams?” Emily teased him.

Matthew’s cheek reddened, a knowing smile on his face.

“Yeah… but that’s not the point! You’re cool with letting some boy take advantage of Mel?”

“Not if we raise her right, no boy will have a chance.” Emily smirked.

“What if it’s Harry?”

“What?”

“What if Harry’s the one who asks Mel on a date?” Remus asked.

A heavy silence fell onto the group, everyone looking at Remus as if he’d said something crazy.

“Oh c’mon,” The young man rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me this is the first time you think about the possibility?”

“You know what?” James said from his seat. “That’s not such a dreadfull idea, is it?”

“What?” Matthew’s head turned so fast Emily thought he’d hurt himself.

“Think about it, Ruddy!” James laughed openly. “Are you saying my boy’s not good enough for your baby?”

Matthew opened his mouth and closed it again, he looked at Emily looking for support.

“That’s an lovely idea, actually,” Emily grinned. “We know Harry’s parents already, so that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about!”

“No, that’s exactly the thing that we should worry about,” Matthew raised a brow.

“I could say the same,” Lily said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I still remember that time Emily put blue dye on my juice just because I called her lazy.”

“That doesn’t mean Mel would be the same!” Matthew defended.

“Thanks for that, love,” Emily scoffed.

“What about James?” Sirius offered. “He’ll tell Harry all about our outings and Harry’ll get ideas.”

“Padfoot!”

“Guys, guys,” Remus stopped them, regretting being the one who had caused the argument. “Calm down, this is all just in our heads, there’s no way Mel and Harry will end up together– Merlin, I mean, they’ll grow up like brother and sister!”

“We can take care of that,” James suggested. “You know, just don’t let them get too comfy around each other…”

“If you want them to date shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Listen Prongs, no offense but I’m with Remus here, there’s no way my kid will end up falling for your Harry, she’s too smart.”

“She’s a one-year old baby that can’t eat on her own, what are you talking about?” James argued.

“I bet ten galleons Mel and Harry end up together,” Sirius interrupted.

The group fell silent one more time.

“Ten that they won’t,” Lily said suddenly.

“Evans!” James exclaimed in outrage.

“I’m in!” Emily said. “I’m with Sirius on this one.”

“I’m with Lily,” Matthew replied, giving his wife a look she knew was meant to be challenging.

“Okay then, I’m with Mily and Padfoot,” James huffed. “And you two are nasty traitors, can’t believe you don’t want us to be one big family.”

“We already are, Prongs,” Remus smirked. “Look at these lovely little siblings,” He pointed to the babies.

“So you’re with Lily, are you?”

“Obviously,” Remus snorted.

“Can’t believe you’re Mel’s Godfather,” Emily said dramatically. “You clearly don’t want what’s best for her.”

“Awwe, thanks, Mily.”

“No problem, James.”

“You two are unbelievable,” Lily rolled her eyes, standing up.

“Where are you going and can I go with you?” Matthew asked, giving his wife a playful, angry look.

“To get a drink, if I have to spend a whole afternoon with Sirius, James and Emily planning my son’s wedding, I won’t do it sobber.”

“Well, Happy Birthday Mel, I guess I just got you a husband!” Sirius chortled.

“Wait for me!” Remus said, quickly following Lily and Matthew to the kitchen.

“We had a great time, really,” James said, holding a sleeping Harry in his arms.

“Even if your wife revealed she doesn’t want us to be part of the same family?” Emily teased.

“Oh, she’ll end up loving the idea, trust me,” Jame said with a smile, “just wait for them to start school, she’ll be begging us to set them up.”

Emily laughed.

“I’m just teasing, but I mean it though, I know your Harry will be a great boy.”

“I know, and Lily thinks your daughter will grow up to be amazing, you and Matthew are great. And you know Harry adores Mely, Lily sees that.”

“Yeah, well… she’s the only other baby he knows.”

“Not for long though,” James sighed, staring down at his son, a worried, yet hopeful look on his face. “Soon all of this will be over, won’t it, little guy?”

“Let’s go James!” Lily called from the door. “Harry needs to sleep!”

“Coming!”

When Emily and him arrived, Sirius waited until Lily and Emily said their goodbyes and then covered the Potters with James’ cloak.

“I’ll go with Sirius, you can stay,” Remus assured Matthew, when the man started to argue back, their friend shook his head. “Stay. Emily needs you, Sirius and I will make sure James and Lily get home safe, right Paddie?”

“Sure thing,” Sirius winked. “See you next Sunday!”

“Thank you,” Emily held onto her husband’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing,” Remus brushed it off. “Next year, Mily. You’ll see…”

Next year. It felt so far away, so fragile to be an actual promise. Next year everything could be different, yes. That didn’t mean it’d be better, but it didn’t mean it’d be worse either.

Once they were alone, Matthew and Emily sat on their bed, a sleeping girl between them. Mel hadn’t been sleeping in her own room since Matthew started to watch over the Potters’ house. It gave Emily something to hold onto, Mel was her hope of a brighter future.

“You’re so good to Mel,” Matthew said suddenly, bringing her back from her swirling thoughts. “She… I know it’s hard, I don’t like being away most of the day, but you know… they’re my family too.”

“I know,” Emily smiled, reaching out to hold his hand. “That’s why I don’t ask you to stay, so you don’t have to choose.”

Matt stared for a long time at their sleeping baby before quietly replying.

“I would choose you in a heartbeat,” He swallowed the lump on his throat, feeling terrible for admiting that out loud. “You know I would.”

Emily sighed.

“Of course I do,” She replied quietly. “But then you’d never forgive yourself if something were to happen them. I’ll never force you to pick a side, Matt. We’re all fighting in our own ways, as hard as we can. We’re all doing our best.”

“Next year this will all be over,” Matthew put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, careful so Mel wasn’t uncomfortable between their bodies. “This will all be a bad dream.”

“Please,” Emily blinked back the tears, “don’t give me hopes, Matt… I know you want it to be true, but please…”

“She’ll be safe,” He cleared his throat. “Mel will live through this, and she’ll grow. I promise you that.”

“What about you?”

“Me…” She couldn’t see his face, but she was almost certain Matt was crying. “Well, if I don’t make it, tell Harry he’s got my blessing to woo Mel all he wants.”

Emily laughed, it came out a bit drowned, but it still sounded like a happy one.

“I thought you didn’t want that for our girl?”

“It doesn’t matter what we think though, does it?” Matthew sigh. “They’ll grow up and eventually they’ll fall in love– whether if they fall for each other or a total stranger, that’s out of our control. Whatever happens, I hope she finds someone who will love her the way I love you.”

“I that case, I pitty the kid that will have to endure that job,” Emily raised a brow, “they’ll have to chase her around for six years and then wait that one day, maybe, she’ll agree to date them.”

“Any Sultens girl is worth the wait,” Matthew squeezed her shoulder lightly, a loving gaze adorning his features.

“And any Dumbledore is worth the trouble,” Emily teased, then looked down at her daughter, who was peacefully sleeping beside her. “Happy Birthday, little one.”

Matthew brushed a lose strand of hair away from his daughter’s face and beamed at how tiny her hand look above his.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic #hp hidden moments #james potter #Lily Evans #sirius black #Remus lupin

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rorykillmore · 4 years

Text

posting up a birthday gift fic for @alula !!! aka i decided to ambush them by not telling them i usually do this for my friends’ birthdays until like yesterday, but it’s the same idea! this is basically just like 1000+ words of gay introspection for our one villaneve rp verse, but one time they attacked me w something they wrote re: eve trying to tell villanelle she loves her while the latter was sleeping and i guess i just filed that away in the back of my brain until i could find a way to get revenge.

anyway a few nice words: i hope you have a great birthday scully!!! and. this might sound like a very low bar bc 2020 has been awful for all of us i’m sure, but meeting you and becoming friends has genuinely ended up one of the brightest highlights of my year and i’m so glad we stumbled across each other bc we both wanted someone to yell about ke with. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

‘Feelings that can’t be put into words’ has never sounded like anything but a challenge to Villanelle. There are 6,500 different languages in the world. It stands to reason that if you can’t find the words you’re want in one of them, you just have to look somewhere else.

The problem is -- she knows the words she wants to say to Eve. She has them. They exist in all 6,500 of those languages.

She’s already said them once.

She wonders to herself, over and over: if she said them again, would they ruin everything a second time?

The textbook definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. So Villanelle tries - in every way she knows how - not to be the same person she was before. Not to make the same mistakes.

“I want to tell you something,” Villanelle murmurs, catching Eve by the hand. It’s late, and they’ve just dropped Jin Ling off at his new apartment and packed it full of food and clothes (Villanelle had wanted to make sure he had clothes) and dog toys in preparation to move him in. Eve looks as tired as Villanelle feels when she turns back towards her, but the look in her eyes is as alert and questioning as it always is when she’s giving Villanelle her attention.

I’m listening. I’m usually listening when it comes to you, Eve had told her once, and, I spent a ton of time listening to you before you even talked to me, and Villanelle had tucked all of those words away somewhere close to her heart.

They make Villanelle hesitate now, on the verge of something not for the first time.

(The first time had been the first night they’d spent together, in between the heated kisses Villanelle had trailed across her skin and in the contented quiet afterwards. Or after that, the night Eve had spent curled up in her lap after Villanelle had wiped away the tears she hadn’t quite understood in the moment.)

She deludes herself, in those few seconds in which Eve’s eyes meet her’s, that she’ll say it this time. But her throat starts to feel dry, and instead --

“I think I am starting to enjoy it.” Villanelle swallows and offers a crooked smile. “This... helping people?”

It isn’t a lie. So that’s something. It’s not the rush or the elation she remembers she used to get when she was hurting people -- it’s more like a quiet, contemplative sort of ache in her chest. She doesn’t know why she likes it. Maybe it’s the novelty of it all.

Maybe it’s the way Eve looks at her now, the way she almost seems to soften at the edges. It wasn’t what Villanelle wanted to say, but the unguarded way Eve smiles back at her and doesn’t let go of her hand, it makes Villanelle decide that maybe it was worth it anyway.

It’s not as though she doesn’t have plenty of other chances.

She and Eve see each other nearly every day now. Most mornings start with them waking up together, and most evenings end with one of them outside the other’s door (or window, when it comes to Villanelle’s preferred method of entry). Villanelle starts to wonder how well she’d sleep in an empty bed, she’s gotten so used to tucking herself against Eve’s back, slinging an arm around her waist. She wouldn’t dare call it domestic, or normal, or any of the things Villanelle knows she can’t have and would never try to force Eve into.

But it’s... them. All the heat and passion and intensity Villanelle already knows so well, but also all of the smaller things that she is still learning that somehow feel equally a part of whatever they are.

So it’s not as though the opportunities aren’t there. It’s just that it never feels like the right time.

She doesn’t want to scare Eve off or bring all their memories of Rome back into the forefront, and above all else, she doesn’t want to lie to her. Or to herself. And no matter how certain Villanelle is that she’s never felt this way about anyone else in her life, or that she wouldn’t have thrown her life as an assassin away and risked the terrifying reality of not knowing who she is for anyone but Eve, or that she might actually choose to die before ever hurting Eve again, she... can’t be sure that any of that counts as love. Because she doesn’t know what love looks like, or what it feels like, she doesn’t know if she really was wrong the last time she said it and she doesn’t know who to ask.

You don’t understand what that is.

I want to, Villanelle thinks she should have said. I’m trying. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it better, just know that I’m trying.

But that hadn’t been how Rome had ended. And since then, so much has happened, and Villanelle has had to ask herself so many unpleasant questions that she once would have preferred not to ever think about at all, but...

Maybe that’s a part of it. Of trying. Because after she’d gone home to her family, to her mother, she’d almost forgotten that it was worth trying at all, and Eve had reminded her so effortlessly just by showing up here, in this strange, dreamlike alternate reality. And that has to mean something, doesn’t it? That Eve always makes her want to try?

That Eve takes her coffee black (sometimes), that she raised venus fly traps as a kid and loved a girl in college, that she had a chicken for a pet and loves cute newborn kittens and scrawny stray cats, and that she thrives on the arguments she pretends to hate, that she cares about people even when they’ve done very bad things, that she’s fighting all the time to figure herself out, to know herself, that it scares her all the time but that she does it anyway. All of that means something to Villanelle. She wants to find the words for how much she cares about every part of Eve that Eve ever lets her see, and they’re right there, Villanelle knows that, just --

She never knew that ‘knowing’ and ‘saying’ could be such complicated different things.

So what’s there to do, Villanelle decides, shying away from paralyzing nerves that don’t at all become her, except keep trying?

“I want to tell you something,” she murmurs again a few days later, this time into the place where the slope of Eve’s neck meets her shoulder, where Villanelle can hide her face. She knows that’s cheating, though, and eventually stretches out and lifts her head and props herself up on one elbow, smiling languidly down at Eve in an effort to pretend that her heart isn’t nearly beating out of her chest.

This time, it’s the morning after they’ve officially defined their... relationship. Villanelle has tried to play it cool, really - she had laughed and was appropriately incredulous when Eve had confessed she’d been texting Hanzo about them, of all people - but she’s also spent the last twelve hours (or what she’s spent of them awake and coherent and not preoccupied by Eve herself, anyway) tossing around the word girlfriend in her head like some giddy teenager.

Eve, perhaps hoping Villanelle is about to reveal a similarly embarrassing story about someone she has consulted for advice about their relationship, raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t hold me in suspense.”

“I...” Villanelle falters again. Swallows. Tries to fight off an inward surge of frustration at herself, because that will definitely ruin the moment. And maybe some of it shows on her face, in her eyes, some vulnerability or fear or just how much she feels for Eve, because Eve’s bemusement softens into something more like concern.

“Villanelle --” Eve reaches up, and Villanelle feels the warmth of her hand against her cheek. She remembers the first time, what feels like so long ago back in Eve’s kitchen when this very same gesture was used to disarm. Now it feels... different, and Villanelle leans into her touch without even really thinking about it. “ -- It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Villanelle knows Eve too well not to sense her nerves. Maybe she’s already guessed what Villanelle wants to say, or maybe she hasn’t and it’s the uncertainty that’s killing her, but she waits for Villanelle anyway, tells her that it’s okay anyway, doesn’t prompt or push her or try to deflect.

And inexplicably it’s not a big fireworks moment, but this small, singular instance of selfless, uncharacteristic patience that makes Villanelle certain. Or maybe she always has been, and it’s just that she needs Eve there in front of her, both their guards dropped, for it to feel tangible.

Villanelle doesn’t know what she is or isn’t, whether her mother and the Twelve and everyone who’s ever told her what she’s supposed to be were right or wrong, but she knows that she loves Eve. If there was ever a person she was capable of shattering every expectation and defying all the odds to love, it’d be Eve. And if she can’t quite bring herself to say it yet... that doesn’t make it any less true.

She covers the hand resting against her cheek with her own and turns her head just enough to press a feather-light kiss to the inside of Eve’s palm, barely able to hide a smile when some of Eve’s quiet apprehension seems to melt. Then for good measure - and because she can’t stop herself - she leans down and kisses Eve properly, slow and somehow unhurried despite every feeling she is determined to pour into it.

And she hadn’t meant to linger, but Eve kisses her back without hesitating, and Villanelle’s always found it difficult to resist getting lost in her. So she gives in, doesn’t resist, and like always with Eve, finds there is something strangely grounding in letting herself get lost. She hopes Eve feels it too. She hopes that - for right now - it’s enough.

“I’ll tell you later,” Villanelle murmurs against her lips once she’s just barely pulled away, and tries to make it sound like a promise.

#i hardly ever write stuff with this little dialogue but whatever. hopefully it works #fic

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shadowcodexx · 5 years

Text

What if— Billy Hargrove

(Edited/added on)

As soon as his body died, the real billy wakes up in the upside down, connected like will had been. The mind flayer made contingencies this time and billy was his most prized puppet.

Hopper had jumped through the portal in the underground lab in hopes of having some chance of getting back to Joyce and El someday. He didn’t expect to find a scared billy Hargrove trying to hide from the monsters.

They bond and hopper tries to help this traumatized kid deal with all of this. They share hoppers remains pack of cigarettes and he realizes this kid has gone through much more than being possessed by an evil entity. His dad is beating him. He only knows this because billy jolts awake from a nightmare and makes a comment. Hopper pieces it together.

“Your dad again?” “He’s not my dad.”

Then they start to see the Demogorgons getting attracted to something. It’s a new portal. They take their chances. They get through the portal and they’re in a Russian base in Siberia. Better than that place.

Somehow, they get out and they’re both scarred. The Russians had figured out that the creatures reacted to Billy’s presence and experimented on him. They put him in fighting rings and whatever was left in him from the mind flayer gave him extra strength. They tested that too. Made him take on some Demogorgons themselves. He had won. Every time.

They find themselves back in Hawkins for whatever reason—idk how they get there—but it’s Christmas and yknow snow. When max sees billy stumbling up their driveway she runs and hugs him. She’s wearing his leather jacket. El runs out a moment later with his denim jacket on like they had been reminiscing. The sleeves are all rolled up. Then she sees hopper. She starts crying and he has just enough strength to hug her. Joyce, will and Jonathan has come up so they could celebrate Christmas and see some of their old friend. They ended up getting one of the best Christmas presents yet.

The people that had been in change of Hawkins lab come back when there’s news of the chief of police and a young man presumed dead, are found. They’re so worn out from the journey and strain they’re passed out for days.

When hopper wakes, mostly everyone is around his bed. Steve has been up from college, so he decided to visit. They all did. He hugged and greeted all of them and they told him of everything that had happened and so forth.

When billy woke up, max was asleep next to him. No one else was there. Hopper made the nurses move him into Billy’s room with him. Billy quietly appreciated that. Steve patted him on the shoulder and el sat on his other side and he educated her on the vending machine snacks.

“What’s....a powerbar?” Billy raise and eyebrow. He looks over at hopper who’s smoking a cig even thought he’s not supposed to—“you have not done this kid justice.” He grabs the bar and opens it while saying, “it’s quick meal—“ Steve walks in saying, “no it’s not Hargrove.” He glares halfheartedly and responds looking at el, “yes, it is.”

Billy father barges in with Susan one afternoon and stands silent and angry. Susan asks how he’s doing and tries to grab his hand, but Neil won’t let her. Then he goes on, very menacingly, how Billy’s a no good son who just decided to up and leave—“with a whore no doubt”—and that all this Russian business is a coverup mean to put him in a good spotlight so he’ll get sympathy etc and hopper just, yeets the curtain separating them away and in his ‘hopper’ voice goes “you ever talk like that again to him, I’m going to have an officer remove you indefinitely from this room.” And Neil leaves in a fit dragging Susan, and trying to force max. But of course she doesn’t budge. He raises his hand and sees hopper in the background. He turns it into a pointing-in-her-face gesture and leaves.

After they get to leave from the special wing of the hospital, billy had to move back in with his dad and Susan. Hopper and Joyce are going steady. She rents back their old place and they all live there for the time being. By then Billy’s missed half the school year, and goes to Nancy’s (who won’t ask questions because she knows) and gets help with tutoring.

Mrs wheeler opens the door and has a look of shock on her face. He gives her a half smirk and says, “this time, I’m looking for Nancy.” She has him wait in the kitchen, asking how he’s doing, she heard they found him and hopper in he woods and that everyone who knew them were overjoyed. But she notices Billy’s not quite himself. He’s not giving her innuendos and his shirt isn’t as unbuttoned. He looks like he just got a haircut. His mullet is shorter now. He’s got a quiet sort of contemplation like he’s grown up too fast. Nancy comes in and is surprised to see him. She agrees to help him.

Christmas Day, billy is beat up again by his father. He hadn’t even said anything. He had just grabbed the remote and Neil slammed him into the wall. And it had to be the worst possible time, too. The doorbell rang. Neil opened it and sees the re-appointed sherif Jim Hopper and his daughter, El. He says they brought a gift for billy and max. Neil tried to take them but el says she wants to give it to them. Max comes out and hugs eleven and whispers one word— “help.”

El looks at Neil and shoves her way past with max leading the way. Hopper notices the blood on his knuckles. He follows. He walks in slowly, surveying the area. Max leads el Into the kitchen, where billy sits, his face bleeding. El grabs his face and makes him look at her. Max grabs some ice and he accepts it. Hopper comes in a few seconds later. “What happened?” Neil answers. “He got in a fight with a kid a few hours ago. Disgraceful to do it on Christmas Day if you ask me.” “I didn’t.” Hopper walls closer. The bruises are fresh. Billy just looks at him.

“See the funny thing about that mr. Hagrove is that your knuckles are bleeding.” Hopper steps closer to Neil, towering over him. “Billy if I take him in will you testify?” Billy looks at him. “Yes.” Neil trues to lunge at him, cursing him out but hopper catches him. He calls it in and shoves Neil into his car.

It turns into a news story and Billy’s at the station a lot. Susan won’t testify, of course. She’s too nervous. Neil tries to use all of Billy’s mistakes against him like his poor school conduct and the speeding tickets. Hopper knows better. He’s stuck with that kid for half a year and he knows him better than anyone. Reminds him of himself in some ways. They tell billy they have to call his mother bc he needs a legal guardian to finish high school. He argues he doesn’t but a little part of him wants to see her. Hopper says he’s sorry, he knows it’s soft spot but it’s good to mend old wounds. Susan tries to take max with her but max refuses. She wants to stay with billy, el and hopper. They have an argument and max throws out, “Your not stupid mom your just a push over! You’ve watched him get beat up every week and didn’t do a thing. I’m staying with him until all this blows over. If you need me I’ll be staying with Hopper and Joyce.”

Billy also lives with hopper and Joyce for the time being. School starts up and he dreads it. Hopper tells him his mother was contacted and she’s coming up from California to see him. Billy starts to lash out because he doesn’t know what else to do and Joyce calms him down. They have a cigarette out on the porch and she talks to him and he starts to break down and she just holds him. And he can’t remember the last time a mother held him like this.

He often gets up in the middle of the night because of nightmares and he finds will in the kitchen. They talk about it and eventually talk about their crappy dads and billy tells him he likes wills mother and that he’s got a good mom. Will mentions he saw some bands that billy had on vinyl and tape and says he likes them. They talk about music until will falls asleep on Billy’s shoulder. Joyce listened to the whole thing from the living room and couldn’t help but smile.

Billy find that his life is much more peaceful in the hopper-Byers household. In the morning, Joyce makes them all breakfast. Max and el share a room so they’re usually the last ones to the table. Billy and hopper both drink black coffee. Billy and Jonathan have a silent respect for each other after Lonny tried to visit one day out of the blue. Billy helped Jonathan get him to leave. Will sits next to billy because there’s always something on his plate he doesn’t eat that billy silently takes after he’s done. The two Hargrove kids have practically moved in. Hopper got two extra beds and max eventually brought everything she owns to the house via the window to her room. Billy moved everything out weeks ago. Jonathan and will share a room and el and max share one. Billy is the only one who doesn’t share a room.

The first day of school, billy takes el and max to school. By now everyone heard of billy Hargrove, the kid who came back to life. Or was captured by the Russians. The facts were a little fuzzy. His cronies and fake friends hound him pretending they were affected by his disappearance. Billy’s tired of high school. He understands why Steve stopped being king. It didn’t really matter anymore. Life has hit him straight in the face and it was time to grow up. And now he had some people who were gonna be there for him. By the end of the day he had so much makeup work, he had to find Nancy. By then, they were easy acquaintances. Not friends per se, just bonded experiences. Tommy started making fun of him, acting as if he were trying to get in Nancy’s pants but he ends up slamming him into a locker.

Tommy and carol and all the other jerks hang around billy as usual, but there’s an air of wariness like they’re waiting for him to do something. And honestly, if it weren’t for max or el, he would have. El understands what makes him, him and she can tell when he’s about to snap. Max is like a similar version of him. Not quite the same, and less corrupted. The middle schoolers have a field trip, or something that causes the high schools to have the same lunch as them. When they come running in, everyone gives a collective grumble. Most of the gang sit with Nancy and Jonathan + Robin. El taps billy on the shoulder and his friends sneer at her. But el asks one question. “What’s a Hershey?” Carol starts laughing but billy silenced her with a look. He looks over at max, a little ways behind and smiles. He jumps up and pulls out a few cents. They follow him to the vending machine and he buys one. This leads to many days of el quietly sitting down and whispering s question in his ear. Billy would then answer.

By the end of the week he was sitting with Nancy and returning student, Jonathan because he was so tired of all the bull. One day he was walking into the middle school to check max and el out early , (because he wanted Mexican and he knew el didn’t know what that was, and he figured he could give her some world experience) he saw max beating up some kid. He shoves in and pulls her off. The kid had called will and el a freak and other slurs she wouldn’t repeat. Susan has to be called in, and it was a mess. She blamed billy but max said the truth and she didn’t seem to want to accept that. Neil had already been put in jail for 20 years so Susan was considerably panicking. Joyce came by after being called and calmed her down. The rest of the gang had been involved bc they wouldn’t stand by either so all of the mothers were called. The ended up supporting Susan and helping her find a place for her and max and finding her a good job she liked and all that.

Billy’s tired of sleeping around. Part of him did it to show that he could and prove he was top dog. But now all the girls except Nancy and robin annoyed him. They always tried to fix him, get him to meet their parents, etc. now it was oh poor billy and pity pity pity. he didn’t get as drunk at parties. He didn’t like not being aware of everything around him anymore. If he were wasted he wouldn’t be as alert. Can’t stand the sound of fireworks anymore.

The next day billy gets called out of class. He’s told his mom is here to pick him up. He kind of freezes up and numbly asks if it’s Joyce and the secretary says no. He refuses to go up and instead leaves and goes to the sheriffs station and barges into hoppers office. “She’s here.”

Hopper calms him down and offers to be there with him. Billy says no he can do this. He walks out and she’s sitting in the waiting room. He hurriedly looks away and sits down near her. She nervously looks at him and asks what he’s here for. He says something about seeing hopper. She says the same thing. She’s looking for her son who moved here with his dad. She says she’s here to see her little boy again. He looks at her and says, “that little boy is gone. He died when you left.” She’s shocked and follows him out and begs him to listen. He turns around and yells “you left me with him!” Tears are streaming down both of their faces. She hugs him and he buries his face in her blond hair.

She rents a place in town and gets to watch him graduate high school. He passed with good grades thanks to Nancy. After the graduation ceremony he picks up Nancy and spins her around, thanking her for the help. He pats Jonathan on the back and messes with wills hair. He and Steve do a fist bump handshake thing. Dustin can be hheard muttering, “not as cool as ours.”

He goes to Cali and brings max and el with him. He teaches them how to surf. Hopper and Joyce come, because, reasons and the entire gang ends up coming. On a completely random chance, their buying snow cones on the pier and he hears his name. It’s his mom. He awkwardly hugs her and she invites them to dinner. She’s married. He’s not too happy about it. The guys nice though and he can’t blame her. He’s just wished she’d taken him with her. Then maybe he’d have had a better father figure, like John. (The guy)

On the beach, he crashed into a girl carrying an icebox. (Courtesy of max) he helps her pick up the spilled drinks and the breath is stolen from his lungs. She’s a knockout. He smooth talks her and she see through the bull. His charm—king billy Hargrove’s charm turned off a girl. He’s internally yelling at himself. She picks up her board and walks to her friends. He asks if she surfs—“duh” and holds up her board. Max is quietly laughing behind him. He asks is they wanna catch some waves. She gives him a long look and says sure.

Her name is Avaline, or ava. She mentions her and her friends are road tripping and she mentions their route. Their going through Hawkins. He tells her they live there and that she should visit. She gives him a brilliant smile and agrees. Max and el love her.

Joyce and hopper ended up buying a house together and Susan got a house coincidentally, near them. It was a street or two over from will and Lucas and a straight shot to Dustin’s. The entire club was back together.

Aveline visits at the most inopportune time. She knocks on the house at the address billy gave her. No response. A crashing sound echoes through the house and she jumps. She tucks her beach blond hair behind her ear and leans in to listen. A beat of silence. She gets thrown backwards with the door. A Demogorgon has flown through the door due to elevens telekinesis.

They all rush out fighting a pack of demodogs. Aveline groans as she touches the blood running down her head. Billy calls her name and hits a demo dog with Steve nail bat. He throws it back to him and Nancy throws him a shotgun. He loads it and shoots one coming behind her. He helps her up and she asks if their being invaded by aliens. Robin comments that she likes how this girl thinks.

Joyce nurses her wound and and they all explain. Ava knew billy was some kind of trouble but she didn’t know he was trouble with a capital T. They load up and try to lead the creatures away from Hawkins. Joyce has to hurriedly call all the kids parents saying their staying with will for a sleepover and she’s sorry about the inconvenience.

“I knew it.” Aveline says holding the ice pack up to her head. “Knew what?” Billy asks, while Duran Duran plays, his hand tapping along to the beat. “You’ve slept with every girl at you high school, haven’t you?” He huffs a laugh and looks at her. “Not all.” She shakes her head. “You can let me out.” “What?” She repeats. She tells him she’s not about to get in a relationship with a guy who has a rep. He says he’s not the person he was when he came to Hawkins. They’re out of the car at this point yelling and arguing and he kisses her. She melts. She hits his chest and jolts back. “Sorry” he says breathless. She pulls him back and hugs him. “You’re frustrating.” He huffs. “That’s a first.”

Of course the Russians weaponized the Demogorgons and all that jazzy stuff and they go on this big adventure and cue a scene where they all end up at s gas station to restock and get a game plan. the cashier just looks at hopper and all the teenagers behind him and raises and eyebrow. Him and Joyce look at each other and Joyce says “our kids” gesturing weakly begins her. He shrugs because he’s not paid enough for this and checks out the tons of stuff they buy.

Steve and billy bond over trying to babysit insane children and Steve is trying to keep them from doing dumb stuff and billy is yelling at them not get killed. Much betting is involved. Robin and billy actually become buddies and it freaks Steve out. Aveline just watches it all.

And after all the fiasco stuff is over, everyone is royally freaks out when Steve Harrington shows up to bring lunch to all these kids and then sits with billy freaking Hagrove and they start chatting like their old buddies.

Billy gets a job at the sheriffs station because he actually has a good head for telling people what not to do and just generally bossing people around. Hopper takes him under his wing and they patrol and keep the weirdness of the town under control. He regularly takes el and max to eat at different restaurants because he’s determined to give el some ‘worldly knowledge’

His relationship with ava is one of his longest they’re going steady. She moves in with him and they go back to Cali every summer to see her parents and his mom. They get married on the beach. Lucas makes a comment on how they’re going to have kids and when el asks billy how they have kids it’s the one question he won’t answer. Hopper was standing next to him when she asked and he gave her the Look. Billy re-evaluated his answer.

The kids think billy is kinda cool now and he keeps them in line while Harrington is off getting a degree. Billy finally has some peace when Harrington gets back and takes them off his hands.

And most importantly billy is happy.

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