#was better than writing and smth just made me really want to put Effort into smth stupid kdjJSDKJ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lilacgyuvin · 3 months

Text

out of my league — k. gyuvin

pairing: nerd!gyuvin x popular!gn!reader

synopsis: it’s valentine’s day! what better way to confess to your longtime crush (and the highschool’s most popular student) than with a letter shoved through their locker. just don’t let jiwoong find out.

wrd count: 6.3k (DAMN OKAY BITCH!!!)

warnings: highschool!au, slight hurt/lots of comfort, bully!jiwoong (srry someone had to do it), bullying, one km s joke, reader isn’t a bully, eunseok of riize sneak, jiwoong is really mean 😭 a little crack, funeral talk, not to be taken seriously this is fiction!!

a/n: yk i had to write smth with valentine’s day coming up!! i lobe gyuvin gyuvin pls be my valentine pls plsplspls

“I put a note in their locker.”

It probably wasn’t the best sentence starter, which Gyuvin realizes only after Taerae starts to choke on his strawberry soda mid-chug. Despite his eyes practically bulging out of his head paired with a boisterous gasp amidst hearing Gyuvin’s doings, Eunseok reaches a lending hand out to his suffocating friend’s back.

“You what?!” Eunseok screams in a hushed tone, despite being the only three occupants of the classroom. If Gyuvin didn’t think it was a stupid idea then, well, he certainly does now. He honestly wasn’t going to tell anyone at first; the embarrassment mixed with the fear of rejection almost made him drop the whole plan as a whole. However, binging 3 romance dramas back to back gave him the confidence he’d never thought he’d have otherwise if it weren’t for the male leads and their suave ways, which is what leads him to where he stands today: sending a confession letter to his longtime crush which also ended up being the cause of his friend’s premature death. Thanks, Choi Woong!

Taerae unfortunately survives his cough attack and uses his regained ability to breath properly to discourage Gyuvin’s efforts even more. “Jiwoong’s gonna kill you man.”

Yes, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear right now. He decides against answering with sarcasm and opts out to rolling his eyes as hard as he can at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-named.

“He didn’t see me put it in,” He certainly didn’t, and Gyuvin knows this because he showed up an hour earlier than normal to slip the note in, partly to avoid Jiwoong and to also beat his inevitable numerous contenders. “Plus, they’re not even dating. They don’t like him.”

Eunseok and Taerae share a glance. They look back at Gyuvin. “Did they tell you that.”

Gyuvin’s starting to get tired of rolling his eyes. Of course they didn’t tell him that, they’re nowhere near close. While they’ve coexisted in the same space for the past four years, their friend groups are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum. They’re admired by everyone, in numerous clubs, and is practically known by the whole school. The only club Gyuvin’s a part of is the Epic Gamers Club™ held at Eunseok’s house every other day. And as far as being admired goes…

“Yo. Gyuvin.”

Oh fuck, it’s so over. Gyuvin is going to die. What’s-his-face is here and Gyuvin is going to die, all because he couldn’t confess to his crush like a normal person. How did Jiwoong even see him? It’s not like he handed the letter to them in plain sight, and there’s no way in hell Jiwoong showed up to school an hour early.

Well, none of that matters anymore. Jiwoong is now walking into the once peaceful confines of the classroom, his goons right behind him, and Gyuvin’s about to meet his end.

All he asks is that Y/n is at his funeral.

Despite coming into the classroom for Gyuvin, Jiwoong is kind enough to make time to mess around with his friends first. Wedging himself in between the three desks facing each other, Jiwoong snatches Taerae’s glasses off his face and tosses them to the floor, and at the same time shoves Eunseok’s tuna mayo kimbap out of his hands. So much for escaping the lunch room.

After watching his friends scramble for their discarded items, Jiwoong turns his back to them in favor of facing Gyuvin, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

Kim Jiwoong: The entire school’s boy crush and simultaneously Gyuvin’s worst nightmare. Going into high school, Gyuvin didn’t think he’d have problems with anyone, his plan was simple: make a decent amount of friends, stay in the honors program so he can get into his dream university, and best his all-time score in Super Smash Bros Ultimate. Oh, and get into his first relationship (since the girl he ‘dated’ in the second grade didn’t count, according to Taerae).

He guesses he strived too hard at the second thing though, as in their freshman year Jiwoong was left at second place in their classes overall academic ranking, and Jiwoong was never second.

Ever since then, Jiwoong has tried everything to sabotage Gyuvin’s grades, which ended in failure each time. So, he just stuck to messing with him. Now Gyuvin wouldn’t really mind if he had got reprimanded for his actions, but he gets away with it— every time. Sneaking slaps upside his head when passing him through the halls, pushing and tripping him during gym, and ‘accidentally’ spilling his drink onto his uniform (which is what initiated classroom lunches amongst him and his friends in the first place): he got away with it all, for four damn years. All because of that facade he puts up in front of everyone. With his perfect grades combined with his charm, he’s adored by students and faculty alike— all but the few who were unfortunate enough to be victims of his ridiculing, Gyuvin included.

The devil himself opens his mouth once again. “I haven’t seen you in a while, you hiding from me?” His smirk forms into a smile, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it holds the same sinister tone as his previous expression did.

Gyuvin looks up at him, disdain hidden behind the neutral shield he’s learned to master in favor of avoiding a swift blow to the face (not that it ever stopped Jiwoong from landing one, anyway). “No.”

At that, Jiwoong’s smile drops, his eyebrows furrow in fake confusion and he starts to look around the empty room. “But… you’re having lunch. In an empty classroom. When there’s a perfectly good cafeteria waiting for you downstairs.” Jiwoong’s friends snicker by the door as he leans down to be eye level with Gyuvin. “Don’t you find that rude, Gyuvin? The staff make sure the cafe is cleaned spotless for scum like you to eat, and you’re eating in the classroom?”

Literally what the fuck is he even talking about. It isn’t uncommon for students to eat in the classrooms, and he knows this because Jiwoong’s literally done it before. It’s in that moment that he realizes Jiwoong just came in here to mess with him, which means he doesn’t know about the letter which means that he won’t die today. Looks like he’ll live to see another day after all!

His newfound happiness isn’t long lived, as in the span of one second, Gyuvin blinks and his food is nothing but a pile of solids and liquids on the classroom’s floor.

Jiwoong gives him a mean snare, despite the fact that all of Gyuvin’s attention is to his now germ-infested food. “And now look, you made a mess.”

Gyuvin can barely hear him and his friends laughing with the way his ears are ringing— no, practically blaring throughout his head. His bulgogi over rice is on the floor. His fucking bulgogi over rice, the last of its kind (as his mom let him have the last of the leftovers), is now nothing but a concoction of soggy meat and rice sautaed with his strawberry milk.

Usually, Gyuvin would be the bigger person and walk away; he’d shut his mouth, clean up the mess, and go about his day. But for some reason, he doesn’t feel like being the mature one today. Maybe it’s the never ending grating laughter coming from his friends, maybe it’s because he’s tired of Jiwoong pushing him around, or maybe it’s just because his mom’s bulgogi is the best bulgogi, and now he can’t have any, all because Kim Jiwoong was bored.

Without a second thought, Gyuvin rises from his chair, lifting his arms to push at the chest of an unexpecting Jiwoong, who stumbles onto the desks of Gyuvin’s friends behind him (he’ll apologize to them for that later). Jiwoong unfortunately finds his footing rather quickly, and doesn’t waste a second as he roughly grabs Gyuvin by the collar, dragging him to the nearest wall and slams him against it. “You fucking crazy? Huh?!”

Those dramas must be really getting to me, Gyuvin thinks. It becomes obvious when he doesn’t shut his mouth after Jiwoong’s question. “Fuck you, Jiwoong.”

He doesn’t even mean to spit in his face, but it happens when he speaks, and he can feel his past self crying tears of joy. He’s been wanting to do this for four years. Maybe the bulgogi sacrificed itself for this very moment. Thanks, Bulgogi. I’ll never forget you.

Jiwoong dryly laughs, lolling his head to the side like the psycho he is. “Yeah, you’ve clearly lost your mind. I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Okay, remember when Gyuvin thought he was free from begging murdered and would live to see another day? He’s starting to think he spoke too soon.

It’s like things are moving in slow motion; Jiwoong releasing a hand on his collar in favor of making a fist angled straight at Gyuvin’s nose, his friends standing from their seats in dreadful anticipation, and the swift breeze that comes from the door being swung open.

“Leave him alone, Jiwoong.”

Ah, his guardian angel.

In less than a millisecond, Jiwoong’s vice grip on Gyuvin’s collar is released, and the fist ready to knock him out is lowered to his side. A deep sigh escapes his throat before he turns to the agitated student. “Go back downstairs, Y/n. This is nothing.”

Gyuvin almost laughs wholeheartedly at Jiwoong’s weak attempt to redirect them. As if he could get them to do anything he said.

Y/n cooks their head to the side, which in Gyuvin’s book is a telltale sign that they’re about to read the fuck out of Jiwoong. “Yeah, it was nothing, until you decided to come in here and bother them for literally no reason. Do you seriously have nothing else better to do?”

Gyuvin can feel an amused smile crawling onto his face as he watches Jiwoong scramble to find an excuse. Seeing Jiwoong try his hardest not to physically deflate in front of his friends would never get old.

And neither would his good-boy facade, apparently! Despite being caught in the act by Y/n for the millionth time, Jiwoong still attempts to save face by pulling out the puppy eyes plucked from the deepest pits of Hell, paired with the fakest apologetic look Gyuvin’s ever witnessed, and turns to be face to face with Y/n, caressing their arm in what he thinks is a comforting gesture. “Come on, don’t be like that. What, you want me to apologize?”

“Yes.”

Like he’s just heard he’s due to get castrated tomorrow morning, his hand’s cease the petting motion and Jiwoong does a double take. “You serious?” He looks into their eyes for any signs of humor behind them (which is stupid for issuing an apology, Gyuvin thinks), and when he doesn’t find any, he drops the act faster than Gyuvin can say ‘COD sucks’ and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out the loudest groan known to man. “Oh my- fine.” Jiwoong looks to his right, locking eyes with him, “Sorry for knocking over your piece of shit lunch, Gyuvin.”

Piece of— his mom’s bulgogi?! Of course Jiwoong wouldn’t know the significance the lunch held for Gyuvin, but he wouldn’t care anyway, so Gyuvin breaks eye contact and rolls his eyes as far into his head as humanly possible.

Gyuvin, now making his way to his book bag to retrieve napkins for his late lunch on the floor, can’t see the look of disbelief on Jiwoong’s face, but he sure can hear it. “What, you’re not gonna accept my apology?”

Gyuvin doesn’t stop fetching for the tissues even when he hears Jiwoong’s footsteps approaching him, and neither does he stop when they come to a halt. “He doesn’t have to do anything,” When he finally retrieves the napkins, Y/n is at his side on the floor, grabbing the empty plastic bag on his desk. “Now if you aren’t going to help clean up, then leave.”

Jiwoong furrows his eyebrows. “You don’t need to help them, Y/n.”

“I also don’t have to meet with you at the cafe after school.”

Oh, Gyuvin knows that one hurt. Everyone knows Jiwoong’s been dying to ask Y/n out for a while now (mostly because he’d never shut up about it), and boy was Gyuvin right. He stumbles over his words as he raises his arms before dropping them. “Come on, Y/n. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Despite the obvious hurt in his voice, they don’t even spare him a glance, focusing on the mess in front of them. “..So? We’re not dating, take Minjeong or something.”

A beat of silence passes, and he thinks Jiwoong died of embarrassment until a scoff erupts from his throat. Okay, there was no way Gyuvin would miss out on seeing Jiwoong’s face after getting rejected before he could even confess, so he raises his head and fully suspects Jiwoong to be sulking or something. He was so wrong. When Gyuvin looks up, Jiwoong is staring right at him, his eyes holding nothing but disdain and revulsion. Wow, Gyuvin thinks, if this is how he reacts to them just simply helping me, what’s he gonna do when they accept (which they hopefully will) my confession? He’d rather not think about that right now actually, and he doesn’t have to any longer, as Jiwoong turns on his heels and makes his way out of the classroom, his goons behind him, but not before mumbling a parting gift for Gyuvin. “Fuckin’ freak.”

So original. Anyway, Gyuvin’s just glad he doesn’t have to deal with him for the rest of the lunch period. His friend’s are quick to his side, and he reassures them that he’s fine. “I’ll go get more napkins.” Eunseok nods and rises from the floor, and is halfway through the door before he stops when he realizes Taerae isn’t behind him.

He cranes his head to the side, and from the corner of his eye he can see Taerae still at Gyuvin’s side. Unbelievable. “Um, Taerae.” He raises his head to his friend standing, and doesn’t get the hint until Eunseok is nudging his head towards the hallway in a ‘get-the-fuck-out’ sorta way.

He looks between Gyuvin and Y/n before his whole body straightens, finally getting up from his crouching position. “Oh! Um, yeah. I’m going to get napkins too.” While Taerae walks towards his other friend, Gyuvin raises his head, and Eunseok gives him a thumbs up in support. It’s in that moment that Gyuvin decides pizza’s gonna be on him at tonight’s Epic Gamers Club™ meeting.

A beat of silence passes, only the sounds of his poor lunch being scooped up into the bag are heard, until Gyuvin musters the courage to start the conversation.

“Thanks for helping me.” He doesn’t have to stop his task to know that they’re smiling. “Of course, I’m sorry about him.” They say in a remorseful tone.

Gyuvin hates the way they apologize on Jiwoong’s behalf, but at the same time he can’t help the way their kindness makes him feel all warm and gooey inside— They're just too good for this world. “You don’t have to apologize for him. You’re not his babysitter.”

His last comment seems to make Y/n laugh. ‘Huh, I’m just funny like that, I guess’ (It’s what he’s thinking, but his friends would agree to disagree.) “It sometimes feels that way.”

Gyuvin hesitates to ask his next question; they’re not exactly close, but he’s been feeling all sorts of confident recently, so he does anyway. “Why do you hang out with him? With them?” ‘Them’ being the rest of Jiwoong’s posee who think they’re hot shit; being all types of mean to other students just because of their looks or their parents’ social statuses. Gyuvin doesn’t think he hates anything more than a snobby rich asshole, which is what induced Gyuvin’s question in the first place, because Y/n isn’t a snobby rich asshole, yet they hang out with a group of them. It’s a question he’s been dying to ask for years now, and all it took was for Jiwoong to fuck up his lunch. Gyuvin almost mentally thanks him, but he barfs in his mouth a bit just thinking about it.

A few seconds pass, and it seems like they’re trying to find an answer to the question themselves. A nervous sigh passes through their lips as they wipe at the strawberry milk staining the floor. “Well, I guess I just fell into it? The friend group, I mean. When I first transferred, I thought they were really nice. At least they treated me that way. I don’t know why.”

‘Because you’re smart and all types of talented and you’re fucking gorgeous’ and a thousand other things is what Gyuvin wants to say, but he keeps his thoughts to himself and lets them continue. “But yeah, they’d always push me to hang out with them, and I guess by the time I realized who they truly were, everyone had already established their friends groups.” At this point is where they ran out of napkins and there was still a bit of the mess left over, so the two sit across from each other, leaning on the legs of the desks behind them. Despite loving the alone time they’re getting, Gyuvin hopes Eunseok and Taerae come back with more tissue soon, or else he’d have to explain the mess to his teacher, thus taking the fall for Jiwoong once again. His sulking that came from just thinking about the possibility is interrupted when Y/n speaks again, in a more hushed tone this time. “I guess I’m just scared of being alone.”

Woah, Gyuvin’s never thought of it that way. Having no friends was a valid fear, hell, Gyuvin felt that way before he met his. He can’t imagine how it would affect Y/n. The school’s most popular student: a loner— they’d never hear the end of it.

He hates that they feel like they need to hang out with pieces of shit to avoid being lonely, when that isn’t the truth at all. As delusional as it may sound, Gyuvin is right here. Who cares if they don’t have similar interests? They can introduce each other to all their different hyper fixations and special interests. And so what if they’re from seemingly different worlds? Gyuvin would swim across all the oceans and walk over thousands of miles if it meant getting to be with Y/n. Every time they’re paired to work on an assignment together, whenever they congratulate him on yet another academic achievement, when Y/n spots him in the hallway and stops to talk to Gyuvin and only Gyuvin. It never gets old, his heart beating a million times over with how kind and effortlessly funny and drop dead gorgeous they are. Fuck, he thinks, I don’t know if I’ll be able to go on if they reject me.

Gyuvin never wants them to feel alone, he needs to let them know that such a thing can never happen. He can tell his silence goes on longer than expected with the way they start to nervously fiddle with the edges of their uniform sleeves. He says it before he can think about it for another second. “You don’t have to be alone. I-I know we’re not close, but you can talk to me.”

With the speed in which their head lifts from their fixed view on the ground, Gyuvin doesn’t know if he’s successfully swooned them or if he effectively fucked up his chances at being anything to them. He needs to save face, so he raises his hands in defense, his eyes widening in pure fear. “O-only if you want to! Like. Just in case you felt like it or whatever.” Yeah, it totally wouldn’t put me into anaphylactic shock if you were to seek me out in any way shape or form!

Gyuvin lowers his hands, leans back on the legs of the desk, and watches as Y/n’s expression transforms from one of shock, to pure adoration. Their eyes soften in a way Gyuvin’s never seen before, and if he were to look a little closer, he swears there are tears swimming at the brim of them, threatening to fall.

‘FuckifImadeY/ncryI’mgonnaenditall’ is the one thought running through Gyuvin’s head as he waits for a response. He isn’t joking either— he’s sorry to his loved ones and all that, and he supposes the Epic Gamer Club™ would have to go on an indefinite hiatus with the emotional trauma it’d leave on his friends. He wonders if his dog would be brought to his funeral?

Turns out he won’t have to plan out his funeral arrangements after all, that becomes clear when a warm smile meets their eyes, and the tears dwindle to a glassy thin layer over their eyes. “I’d love to. Thank you, Gyuvin.”

Oh Gyuvin thinks his heart just exploded, but like, in a good way. A love explosion, if you will. He doesn’t waste a beat before he’s sporting a smile of his own, sitting straighter than before. “Anytime.”

His friends aren’t back, the period isn’t over yet, and he doesn’t want to stop the conversation there. So, he talks about the thing that’s been plaguing his mind for the past week. “I saw your locker. You got a lot of letters.”

Y/n laughs bashfully at the mention of the hundreds- no, thousands of letters they received today. When they arrived at school, they opened their locker and was bombarded with a sea of pink and red cards that practically drowned them, and by the time second period rolled around, their desk was stuffed to the brim with even more advances in the form of candies and cute plushies. “Yeah, I haven’t even gotten to a single one yet! I’ll do it before school ends, though. I’m glad people like me enough to get me things.”

They’ve got to be kidding. The spring semester of freshman year was absolutely rocked by the wave that was Y/n’s arrival. Despite coming from a normal, middle class family, they were quick to rise in popularity. At first, it had just been their beauty that seemed to draw everyone in, but as soon as they were able to showcase their physical and academic skill, along with their endless heaps of kindness, they became more than just a pretty face, and the whole student body can testify to that. Unfortunately, by the 4th day into the new semester Jiwoong and his loser-ass friends had already sunk their claws into Y/n and scooped them up before any other group could. But yeah, anyone who doesn’t love Y/n is crazy and is probably most definitely going to hell.

‘I hope you read mine.’ It’s at the tip of his tongue, he’s straightening his posture to sit taller and ask them with his whole chest, and—

“More napkins!” is the opener Taerae decides to go with as he and Eunseok barge into the confines of the classroom. “Uhh sorry we took so long, we were arguing about…” he turns to Eunseok who just shrugs his shoulders before turning back to the two. “.. who the strongest avenger is.”

Gyuvin wants to roll his eyes, partly because they couldn’t have come up with a lamer excuse even if they tried, they unknowingly sabotaged his unplanned confession, and cause the strongest avenger is obviously Scarlet Witch.

He decides against it, rather locking eyes with Y/n who he finds is already staring at him, and they exchange equally bashful smiles. Gyuvin isn’t mad at his friends, not when they invade his and Y/n’s space to help clean the last of the mess, and not when they use the rest of the lunch period to bombard them with questions like, ‘have you read kimetsu no yaiba?’ and ‘where would you go if a zombie apocalypse broke out?’ (they answered with staying in Seoul, which prompted Taerae to blatantly tell them they’re going to die, which in turn earned himself a slap from Gyuvin).

He isn’t mad because he still has a chance: today, at 3:00 in room 124 after school like his letter specified. He hopes, some way, that through the piles of letters and candies and plushies and whatever the hell else, they somehow recognize Gyuvin’s from the crowd, and pick him.

It’s time.

It’s time, and Gyuvin’s got it all figured out: Although school’s ended 45 minutes ago, he knows Y/n is part of the cooking club, so he isn’t keeping them behind or anything. He used that time to run to the flower shop a few minutes away and get them their favorites along with a stuffed animal. The classroom he initiated the meeting place in was one that was barely used by students, let alone teachers, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Oh! And it’s on the first floor, so if Jiwoong happened to find out about his advances and decided to sabotage him with his friends, then he could jump out the window without sustaining any injuries.

Gyuvin’s got it all figured out, so why’s he practically shitting bricks right now?

There are a lot of reasons really— the main one being the fear of rejection which he’s afraid he’ll never be able to live down which will lead to him maybe most certainly doing something drastic.

But it’s 2:58, two minutes before Gyuvin’s letter says for them to meet, and he has to pull himself together. He decides pacing around the room a billion times isn’t gonna do the trick, so he opts out to sitting on the teacher’s desk instead, setting the flowers and plushie behind him. He pulls out his phone and at the same time receives a text from Eunseok.

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)>: let us know how it goes 🫡 also please don’t die today

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)>: taerae brought danganronpa and you know how he likes to voice the lines aloud. you’re nagito we need you

Along with Taerae’s ridiculous gaming antics, Gyuvin finds it amusing how Eunseok also thought about the possibility of Jiwoong finding him out, and it makes him laugh, somewhat calming his nerves down. It’s comforting to know that if this confession doesn’t end up going well, he’ll at least have his friends to fall back on.

“What’s so funny?”

The sudden voice echoes through the empty classroom and Gyuvin almost lauches his phone through the ceiling with the way he jumps.

His heart drops a million times over and he nearly passes out, but he doesn’t, as an angel was sent before him. The angel, if you will.

Standing by the now closed door was Y/n, the sun cascading over their skin to only amplify the seemingly everlasting glow on their face. The same tender smile that they gave Gyuvin a few hours earlier was back, and he looks down and—

They’re holding his letter.

Out of the swarm of all the pinks and reds, through the heart-shaped candies and the softest plushies, none of them are in sight but Gyuvin’s. Gyuvin’s, with the stupid Evangelion washi tape on the side preventing the envelope from falling open after he accidentally ripped it, the one with animal crossing stickers plastered every which way because Y/n mentioned the game once, the one with emoticons drawn on by Gyuvin himself in hopes of standing out in the sea of letters: it was in the grasp of Y/n’s hands, fiddling with the edges as they approach Gyuvin in what to him feels like slow motion.

He honestly feels like he could cry. Oh shit, is he crying? Gyuvin sets his phone down to raise a hand to his cheek, which is thankfully dry, but the action brings him back to reality and he realizes that he’s been staring for longer than normal, so he manages to use the little breath he has left to muster what he can.

“You came.” It’s not much, but it’s the best he can do, and way better than just staring at them in pure silence.

“Of course I did.” They say it like it’s the most obvious thing ever, which only serves to throw Gyuvin off even more.

“But- what about everyone else?” What he really wants to say is ‘why me?’ Throughout the day he’d pass by their locker, their desks, even Y/n themselves; everyone seeking them out were more than worthy candidates. Whether it were their looks, their popularity, or the fact that they were confident enough to confess straight to their face— all of them were more worthy than Gyuvin could ever be. So why were they here, at 3:00 pm in room 124 like the letter read?

They shrug, a knowing smile plastered on their face. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah.” He opens his mouth, breathing in a handful of air before speaking again, “...I forgot what I was gonna say.”

It wasn’t a total lie! He was caught completely off guard, it was kinda expected to forget the speech he’s been practicing for weeks now. It doesn’t seem to phase Y/n though, for they simply shrug again, and begin to remove the letter from the envelope in their hand. “That’s okay. Maybe if we read your letter it’ll jog your memory.”

‘Dear Y/n,

I know we aren’t close, but you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. Please meet me in room 124 @ 3:00pm today, so that I can express my feelings in full.

— Kim Gyuvin’

It sounded like poetry when Gyuvin read it in his head, aloud in his room, and then to his mom for a second voice of opinion (she said he was better than Shakespeare, which went straight to his head). But now Gyuvin isn’t too sure how that made the final cut, he cringes a million times over when they read it out loud.

He scratches the back of his head and tries to hide his mortification as much as possible. “Sorry, I know that’s pretty vague..”

“It’s okay! You can say whatever’s on your mind, I’m all ears.”

Holy shit, this was really happening. He doesn’t know why, but he wasn’t expecting to get this far. Maybe he thought Y/n was too good for him, and he really did think about the possibility of Jiwoong finding him out, but none of that matters anymore— not when his dream come true is standing right in front of him, when they could be doing anything else right now and they decided to be with him. The fact that they’re even giving him the time of day is enough to fuel him with more confidence than those romance dramas ever could.

He stands up from the desk, and takes a deep breath. “I really like you Y/n, I have for a while now. You’re smart and funny and really pretty, and you’re always nice to me. I know we don’t like all of the same things, but that doesn’t bother me. I want to learn more about you, I want to learn everything about you. I hope you feel the same way, and if not, I understand. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if we graduated without letting you know how I feel.” Without turning around, he reaches for the flowers and stuffed animal, trying his best to steady the nervous look creeping onto his face as he holds the items out between the two of them. “Please be my valentine! And then something more. If you wanted to.”

Gyuvin’s rant has finally come to an end, and he doesn’t realize they’re tearing up until he’s holding the items up for them to take.

Oh my God he’s seriously made Y/n cry, he’s got to end it now. It’s what he’s thinking until his personal space is being invaded by the warmth of the bone crushing hug Y/n has them in before Gyuvin can even apologize.

Despite their face being shoved into his chest, tears wetting his uniform vest, they still manage to muster a coherent response. “I’m glad you told me before graduation. Of course I’ll be your valentine.”

Wait, what? Gyuvin stiffens in their hold when he both realizes that he hadn’t returned their hug and that they said yes?! “Oh my God really? Wait. I’m sorry, I know this is what I like, wanted, but can I ask why?” their hold on Gyuvin releases a bit as he continues, “Is this just you being nice? Cause if so—”

In the span of two seconds, their warmth is gone, and Gyuvin can’t even sulk the lost feeling before he’s being punched in the arm. “Ow!”

Their tear stained face holds a look of offense, like Gyuvin just wronged their entire lineage. “You think I’m crying just to be nice?” Oh, he thinks, thats a good point. “I like you too, dummy. You’re really smart, and you never stoop to people like Jiwoong’s level whenever they bother you. Also, you get really cute when talking about your dog or those games you like.”

They actually listened to his stupid rants? How could he not blush at that? It spreads from his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears, and fails to go unnoticed by Y/n. “And when you blush. You’re just a big cutie.”

Oh Gyuvin’s having one of those love explosions again, but like, a million times worse. This can’t possibly be good for his health. In a poor attempt to hide his bashfulness, Gyuvin brings his hands up to cover his face, his words muffled by the makeshift shield. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this is happening.”

And apparently Gyuvin’s suffering is funny? Because now they’re laughing, coming closer and raising their own hands to grab at Gyuvin’s wrists, successfully pulling them away from his face. “Don’t be shy now! You’ve come so far.”

They’re right, he has come so far. So why cower away now? He’s quite literally got them in the palm of his hands (or vise versa, he should say), and he’ll be damned if he lets them slip away now. With their hands now holding his wrists at their sides, Gyuvin doesn’t have half the mind to think before he’s leaning in, landing a feather-light peck to their lips. ‘Oh fuck, am I doing this right?’ It isn’t until now that Gyuvin remembers he’s never actually kissed anyone before, and panic follows quickly as he pulls away, their faces still mere inches away. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t really know what I’m—”

Their lips are suddenly on each other again, but it’s Y/n who initiates the kiss, and it's beyond better than Gyuvin’s. It’s light and refreshing, like how Gyuvin feels whenever they’re around. Their lips are as soft as their hands in his grip, and he can feel them smiling against his as they continue. He never wants to let go of this moment.

He ends up not minding when it does end though, for when they both pull away, Y/n finally lets his wrists go in favor of holding his face in their hands, which has Gyuvin practically melting into their touch. “If you apologize one more time, I’m going to punch you again.” They smile, despite having just threatened him.

Gyuvin doesn’t mind, though. They could hit him with the force of a hundred meteors, and he’d still forgive them. So he just smiles, basking in the warmth of their hands. “So, what’d you wanna do now?”

Y/n ponders for a moment, and perks up not long after. “Wanna go grab food?”

Oh, Gyuvin could cry. Y/n came straight from the cooking club, where they make full course meals that they get to eat at the end, so there was no reason for Y/n to be hungry. Yet Gyuvin’s lunch was ruined by what’s-his-face, and there was no way he wasn’t starving by now, and they remembered that.

He doesn’t wanna ruin the mood with his crocodile tears, so he sucks up his tears as much as he can, and smiles fondly instead. “Sounds perfect.”

Gyuvin’s still in a minor state of shock when they walk out of the school's doors. The person who he’s been pining over for the past four years likes him back, and they’re going on a date. Is this a date? He doesn’t want to ask, rather basking in the sun from both the sky and the one right next to him. He’s kind of worried that Jiwoong is gonna find out, but he can’t find it in himself to care all that much when his valentine is holding his hand as they make their way to the train station.

He takes note of their warning from earlier, but he has to ask. “Are you okay? Sorry for making you cry.”

Gyuvin’s ready to take a punch, but he’s lightly shoved instead, making the both of them lose their footing a bit before walking in tandem again. “It’s okay. And yeah, you’re just really sweet.” They turn to him and smile, squeezing his hand lightly. “Okay, let’s learn more about each other starting now. What kind of ramen do you like?”

“Wanna check out the new spot downtown and find out?”

Gojo’s boy toys (◕ε◕*)

3:40 pm

You: bros.

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : bro??

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : was that a good bros or a bad bros

You: we kissed

You: we’re going out for ramen now

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : ?$/;&/??@

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : BROOOOOO

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : omg i’m crying

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : gyuvin im crying

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : he is crying gyuvin

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : we’re so happy for you bro.

You: thanks guys 😄

i’ll still be home in time to play so

just sit tight

taetae ˶^•ﻌ•^˵ : tell y/n i say sorry for saying they have zero survival instinct!!!

eunseokie <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> : AND FUCK YOU JIWOONG

a/n: in no way am i implying that doing things like reading manga or playing smash bros is weird, i just took things that’ve gotten me called a nerd 😭😭 also being a nerd isn’t bad i love my nerds 🫡 stream beautiful monster stan p1h get get get get a guitar bai

#yall ngl i don’t watch romance dramas #so idk if that choi woong is a good guy fr #i just looked up male leads don’t come for me!!!#also eunseok is a good wingman bc he has a girlfriend. who is me. im his gf #ZHANGHAO OST SNEAK #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin x you #kim gyuvin x reader #zb1 x reader #zb1 x you #zerobaseone fanfiction #zerobaseone fanfic #zerobaseone x reader #eunseok fanfic #taerae fanfic #gyuvin fluff #gyuvin angst #zb1 fanfic #noelle.writes

201 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 6 months

Note

Hi Lock~ I wanted to ask you abt how you got into literature, and how you’d maybe recommend someone else to start? I want to expand on my reading (and also you’ve hyped up Dostoevsky sooo much I’m hooked but I KNOW I’m not at that lvl yet haha) but there’s so many different sources and stuff idrk where to start. I have seen your list of recommendations and other people’s lists as well but Im never sure if they’re a good place if someone is just starting into literature; I’ve been really interested in Picture of Dorian Gray, Jane Eyre and Frankenstein right now, do you think they’d be okay? Did you look at books you knew you’d be into? Or did you try out smth new entirely? Also did you look at any sources online that you could recommend? I know I’ve asked a lot so you of course don’t have to answer them, but please let me know what you think!!

I also wanted to ask, as someone who’s read many classics in literature, in your opinion, how would you define literature? And what do you think makes a book a classic?

From a very clueless anon, hope you and bun bun have a great day and stay hydrated!!!!

hello anon!!! there are so many interesting questions here, i'll try answering them to the best of my abilities!!!!

(how i got into literature)

i'd been neglecting published works for most of my life because i just preferred fanfic way more. it wasn't until a bit into 2021 that i saw this Discourse Causing Post that 'you can't grow as an author if you don't read published works,' or something among those lines. i thought this was really interesting because i'd never given it much thought. around that point, even though writing was a hobby, i felt really motivated to improve. i normally spent no more than a day or two on a story before moving onto the next. which is fine, because fanfic writing is a hobby, but i felt i'd be capable of more if i put in the extra time and effort.

so basically i got into it because i wanted to write my silly little yandere fics better jdfklgjsdg

(recommendations for getting into literature)

i focused on the genre i thought i'd be the most interested in: horror. then i branched out from there. i looked up what people considered must-reads for the genre because i figured that'd be a good place to start. if you know what sort of genres you like, doing some research into its most prevalent/foundational works isn't a bad idea. that's the approach i took. authors throughout the centuries influence and inspire one another, i wanted to be able to map those connections out. this also helps give some context to older books with references that'd be loss on a modern audience.

(how i went about looking into books to see if i wanted to read them)

i research everything like my life's on the line, so i do look into books before i read them. i go for a synopsis that doesn't include spoilers and consider if that's a story i'd get invested in. if not, i'll read some reviews for fresh perspectives. if i'm still kinda meh by then, the book gets passed on.

(defining literature/classics)

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH literary theory is not my field of expertise ... i'd personally define literature as any written work such as fiction and nonfiction. it can encompass so many things that defining it feels tricky. as for how i'd define a classic, all art is subjective or whatever, but there are stories that just have the It factor. whether that is their cultural impact, or works that are pillars to the genre(s) they were written in. you can see the ripples that it made after its publication.

finally, as for the books you listed (jane eyre, the picture of dorian gray, and frankenstein), i'd highly recommend them!!! all of them are apart of the gothic genre, which is one of my favorites. they've all stood the test of time for good reason.

#lock lore #answered #Anonymous

59 notes · View notes

stupid-sloot-headcanons · 1 year

Text

Honestly if Nightbringer winds up sucking (which imo, it likely will) I really hope it blows up in their faces and they work to improve it AND Obey Me instead of abandoning it abruptly like they're doing with og Obey Me

We got informed in a Q and A as opposed to any official announcement that there will be no further Lessons and original Obey Me will have no further updates aside from events which are fucking pointless since...what is the point of getting new cards if the game isn't continuing lol?

I get they're riding off the success of the original game, but it's annoying there's no way as far as we know to transfer accounts from people who have provided you with the success you're riding and just going "yeah, instead of improving the game we're just abandoning it. Thanks for the VIP subscriptions and AP/Devil Points/Items over the past 3 years lol" after the admittedly low-quality anime we got (which would have been a perfect opportunity to add more lore, if that's really what they wanted to do outside the original game)

Nightbringer is a reboot nobody asked for that could have been worked into the original game without making an entire new one and turning the original that made them money and skyrocketed their success into abandonware. It seems like it's trying to do way too much at once and as a result none of it is likely to work well, esp on launch: an entirely new rhythm game, shitty looking 3D models, rebooting the story instead of just adding more lore in future lessons/putting effort into better writing since last season was...oof, etc.

Also when they talk about the story and content being darker, I'm not holding my breath. I don't even mean yandere level shit since I know that isn't for everyone and they want to cater to different fans outside that demographic, I mean that you'll still have characters make the lightest allusion to something more than kissing and hand-holding just like original Obey Me. I'm just saying, if you want a darker or more mature story and relationships as a selling point for your dating sim, hopefully Nightbringer will add more depth to things than:

"Yeah Belphie did just kill me and had no remorse for it until he realized I'm descended from his baby sister, but we're cool now after not even one conversation about it. He even jokes about it sometimes teehee

Mature doesn't always have to mean "includes content of characters fucking or killing people". It can also mean characters having like. Actual conversations about things that can lead to drastic changes in their relationship. As opposed to how simplistic and childish and flanderized things became in Obey Me after a while.

This is a cast of mostly demons, one of whom is the Avatar of Lust. If you don't want to close off the entire teenage demographic, then just make it an option in settings (add an age verification tool or smth, idk) to add some content that gets spicier than hand holding and the VAs making lip smacking noises during a fade to black.

I know most mobile games, esp gacha games, aren't destined to last long but it's been less than 5 years ffs. Instead of investing so much time and money into building up an unimpressive looking game from scratch and rebooting shit, why not just...improve the game that you already know is a successful one that's been making a decent amount of money and hype amid all the merchandise deals due to its success?

#ill wait one month until i decide if nb is worth the time of day but im so pessimistic right now lol #sloot bitches about things #obey me #.obey me

33 notes · View notes

moonndust · 1 year

Text

chapter 20, 21 and 22 were something… (part 1)

(includes fire emblem engage spoilers)

only alear, kagetsu, alcryst and merrin survived the griss hide n seek level

and i vividly recall alcryst always dealing the final blow.

atp if alcryst dies in-battle then it’s fuckin over for all of us

alcryst died once at some point and i immediately went to the time crystal

he’s like my only maxed out character and i am not risking the chances of losing a wet towel of a menace

one crit and its all over for the enemy

kagetsu had like 8% crit chance and landed on like more than 10 crits in a row.

i like but also dislike the lack of characters in each cutscene. like wtf was everyone else doing when griss was talking to alear? they were clearly right there??? right???

then get his ass. sneak up on that bitch and STAB HIM IN THE GUT OR SMTH.

it’s that easy.

this game has so many plot holes. way too many that i can’t even think of one.

like half of the casualties in the plot could’ve been avoided if we used that damn time stone. framme was so fuckin right about using the time stone to stop florra port from getting destroyed. use your brains y’all!!! USE IT!!!

ik it would make the game like longer but still‼️

i didn’t understand a single thing in veyle’s backstory (i wasn’t paying attention to all the “tell don’t show” shit)

my opinion on marni drastically changed when she immediately switched up. it really felt rushed but i really like how her va portrayed marni’s feelings.

marni’s death was like witnessing a child getting disowned and killed right after

mauvier’s character is great‼️ he’s just bland‼️that’s all‼️

the battle was pretty easy ngl. alcryst (as always) landed the final blow on veyle.

the cutscenes were awkwardly put together ngl. like the cutscene where veyle is crying over alear’s dead body, vander and alfred are just 🧍

i mean ig it could work as a parallel cutscene to lumera’s death but still.

why tf were they just standing there. they were most likely standing in shock but at least make them closer to alear’s body or smth omg.

anyways

the writing is dogshit but i somehow nearly cried in some cutscenes. don’t ask why bc i don’t know either.

i’m blaming the god tier va work for that. they put so much effort for such a shitty script that it works.

zephia, ik you’re hot n all, but i am this close to throw hands at your ass

“we’re all family here.” THIS IS NOT THE FOUND FAMILY TROPE THAT I REMEMBER

mauvier was just there. ngl he did a lot of work in the battle but he also didn’t do much at the same time??

i’m not done w/ the chapter 22 battle yet but goddamn that’s a lot of cutscenes.

ngl it would’ve been fun to fight the corrupted + corrupted veyle as the units w/o alear. that was such a missed opportunity for a good challenge.

i like corrupted veyle’s voice better than her normal voice…

oh no they took away marth’s blue hair and pronouns 😨

they took away everyone’s colored hair and pronouns 😱

now they’re all red and pronounless 😢

i started the battle in chapter 22 w/o knowing that alear was the only one who could get the rings…

so my dumbass made alcryst waltz to lyn’s ring and i realized that i fucked up

had to use the time crystal and go back 2 turns to the very beginning

and replay the battle from scratch.

pandreo (once again) was a fuckin trooper and carried everyone

the emblem rings i assigned the everyone was lowkey random but i let the ai do it for me since i am a lazy fuck

so there was uhhhh alear/roy, alcryst/lyn, kagetsu/lucina, pandreo/corrin (later changed to micaiah), seadall/byleth, rosado/eirika (changed to corrin), clanne/celica, zelkov/eirika, alfred/sigurd, merrin/leif (originally ike) and timerra/ike

i sorta did change timerra’s class to picket pretty late so she kinda died in almost everything but its ok i still love her

i wanted to play around w/ the change class mechanic on the benched units i had (i wanted to give diamant exposure therapy through sage class)

i actually have a good strategy that i didn’t even get to use and i’m pissed.

this is just a one shot alcryst centered strategy. 1) make alcryst engage w/ lyn and dispel doubles, 2) pandreo uses rescue and teleports alcryst close to him n seadall, 3) seadall uses dance on alcryst, 4) astra storm that bitch w/ those sweet chain attacks‼️

this could also help w/ lucina’s all for one skill.

seadall’s dance was a life saver in every battle.

alcryst, kagetsu pandreo and merrin are the biggest carries in my team atm

alear is just… there

in conclusion? always take out the villain when they least expect it.

griss in post-battle chapter 20 telling alear the big fell dragon thing? get his ass from behind.

hyacinth just standing there at chapter 10? pop his old bones

when sombron appeared before alear died? just yank the helmet off of veyle’s head. marni cracked it ffs.

oh yeah and use the time crystal like your life depended on it plot wise.

2 notes · View notes

whats-wild-to-you · 1 year

Note

gna be out of pocket & make ur life difficult by requesting for smth extremely specific 😋 so jay and reader have been dating for a few months but one day she jst ups and leaves bc the rs got tough (fights? + she feels bad abt herself) thn she finds him after a few months, have sex with him even tho he asks her to stop, but he doesn’t stop her when she’s undoing his pants. thn when they’re doing it she begs him to “take me back i’ll be better” sorry if it’s a lot, it’s ok if udw to write it

Challenge accepted 😜

__________________________________________

To say that you were comfortable in your relationship would be an understatement. The last time you wore heels or make up was when you and Jay had your first date. You noticed he appreciated your inner values more than your appearance so you stopped putting in so much effort. What you didn’t anticipate was the fact that Jay would compare you to his friends’ girlfriends and every time he did, you came up short.

No matter how subtly he tried to encourage you to dress up for date night or his willingness to go shopping with you, your answer was always the same.

“There’s no need for that!”

So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you that Jay’s eyes started to wander. First it was female acquaintances whom he didn’t see that often anymore, then it was strangers that passed by on the streets or a woman in a cafe who was particularly well dressed.

You noticed the fact that he was looking but reassured yourself that as long as he was ‘just’ looking it was okay with you.

Soon though, his interest in all females except you, started bothering you. You seriously asked yourself if you had to appeal to him and fight for his attention even though you have been together for months.

And that’s when the fights began, that’s when the accusations began. Harsh words were thrown around and in the end the pressure and guilt was too much for you to handle. One day you just packed your belongings and left while Jay was at work. When he returned home, he noticed your stuff was gone. The fact that he didn’t try to contact you, confirmed your decision to leave and made you feel less guilty about it.

But fate had always been cruel to you and so you bumped into him months later at a mutual friend’s birthday party. You acknowledged each other’s presence but avoided getting too close.

His gaze lingered on you throughout the night and his scent filled your nostrils. When you turned around he suddenly stood in front of you, asking you to talk someplace quiet.

You immediately got the hint and let your hands rest on his chest as you crammed into the tiny pantry.

“Stop! What are you doing?”

Refusing to admit you were wrong, you started unbuttoning his pants, sure that the reason he wanted to talk to you in private was that he missed you like you missed him, craved you like you craved him.

“Please.” You begged him. You missed everything about this man, but especially the sex. Although you had some dates after your split and even one or two one-night stands, nothing could compare to how Jay made you feel.

“We shouldn’t.” He said, but he wasn’t very convincing since he was also unbuttoning your blouse at the same time.

You clumsily fumbled with your arms around his neck, jumping onto his lap, until you found a comfortable position and maintained eye contact while Jay spread you, gaining access to your core.

“Take me back. I’ll be better!” You managed to utter in between moans, your eyes fixated on the beads of sweat forming on Jay’s forehead. He looked at you questioningly, but didn’t reply.

It was only when you were getting dressed again that he cleared his throat, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You should think about what you really want.”

“I want you!” Came your rapid response.

He chuckled, suggesting you could meet for coffee the next day, knowing that the both of you needed time to confirm your feelings for each other.

#jay park #more soju please #park jaybum #park jaebum #park jaebeom #anon ask #ask me anything #asks open #send me asks #ask request #ask response #anon request

3 notes · View notes

thatnarcissisticfeel · 2 years

Note

hi, thanks for answering, i appreciate it. also that you didn’t just call me toxic or some shit and tell me to fuck off. i’ve actually never thought of joining a discord server but it’s a good idea, thank you, i think i could try that. i guess on another account though to prevent anyone from accidentally finding out bc you know for yourself how it is. i’ll look up if i can find some kind of dbt workbooks online as well.

the journaling idea is good as well, i’ve actually been trying for a while but i end up rarely using it as a past experience left me with kinda bad trust issues about writing / drawing things down where someone could see them. but i guess i could try hiding it better this time or something. it’s just this thing that also sometimes venting like that actually ends up making me even more frustrated, as i realize i’ve already written about this exact thing countless times before yet still nothing has changed.

i’m trying not to make a too harsh judgement of my therapist yet, considering i haven’t been seeing her for that long, but… yeah. when i said that i’ve been going to therapy for years i meant going to a lot of different ones in this time. no one ever gets me. their advice is always so fucking useless. honestly at least this current one actually listens and doesnt make me feel uncomfortable or like i’m being judged. i think she’s the one i’ve been the most honest with because of that (and also because i just started telling her everything from the first session on already bc i’m tired of everyone always turning out to be nothing but a waste of time and money and effort), i generally lie to therapists esp my psychiatrist so i can get the meds i want (or else im 100% she’d just put me on some shit like antipsychotics, which ive been on in the past and i’d honestly rather kill myself than take them again, idk if you’ve tried them before but i basically felt r*tarded [idk how some ppl are sensitive of slur use like i personally dont care but i dont want your blog banned or smth] and tired all the time and it “”””helped”””” in the way that it made me too slow to be able to think about my problems. thanks psychiatry. not a traumatizing experience at all). i mentioned that i suspect i could have a personality disorder to her once or twice and she seemed to agree that it could be a possibility, but obviously no one can diagnose that fast. but i guess i’ll see. i really just want to know whats wrong with me, why do i think the way i do, why i can’t just be more fucking normal no matter how hard i try. but getting an actual diagnosis of a PD esp if it turned out to be this one would just mean i’d get treated even worse by every single doctor, not even necessarily a mental health one, bc physical doctors see all your records as well,, i’ve already been told my legitimate physical issues are just bc im depressed, or even if they dont straight up tell me they definitely treat me less seriously and i just know its bc i have mental illnesses diagnoses & im female.

i just … ugh. i feel so sick of it all and misunderstood. i know i can get genuinely abusive in arguments when someone upsets me but i really dont know how to stop or control myself. i hate that people act as if it’s all my fault. like everything i’ve gone through doesn’t even matter and i’m just an inherently evil person. like i didn’t have some kind of a terribly traumatic childhood, but i’ve always been either bullied or excluded by almost everyone i’ve ever met and all the social isolation honestly really fucked me up. i think that’s why i developed such a strong individuality complex as i’ve never been able to think all of it must be simply because i’m worthless. like fuck no, 99% of the people are dumb and shallow and ignorant towards reality of the world and i’m supposed to feel like i’m somehow worse than them? at least i have self awareness and my own thoughts. i mean i do think we’re all worthless because nothing in life has any value, so why should humanity be the exception? that still doesn’t stop me from hating everyone though. i may be a hypocrite but so is everyone else; and at least i don’t pretend to be a gOoD pErSoN. lacking empathy and not having morals doesn’t make me any less deserving of help even though i know how many people unironically believe people like me should just be shot. fucking brainless hypocrites, all of them.

but anyway yeah my point here is, fuck people who think anyone chooses to be this way. all of this has done nothing good for me other than made my life much harder. and not to mention unable to ever get genuinely close to anyone because what is the worth in a relationship if i can’t even bring myself to care about anyone? i don’t think “empaths” even realize how alienating it actually is. which is once again so ironic because THEY should be the ones to try to understand it, but no, they just generalize everyone and share the nonsense propaganda that we’re incapable of change.

so yeah, this turned into another vent but i really lack any people in my life who i could be honest with. i feel so lonely all the time. it’s not even really missing a friend group or romance or physical touch, it’s more of this feeling of feeling completely alone and that no one (other than a few people whose writings and actions i admire but they’re all dead) would ever be able to truly understand me. so yeah as cheesy as it is, sometimes it’s nice to be reminded i’m not alone by someone other than a generic social media post made by someone who’d 100% hate me if i told them even half this shit. can i maybe dm you sometime btw? i felt like staying anon while writing this bc i tend to get anxious with ppl at first but idk, maybe, if youre comfortable with that ofc

btw if its alright to ask can i ask how did you get diagnosed? what was the process like and how long did it take? did they suspect anything else at first? do you feel treated by ppl any differently now tjat you have a diagnosis of such a stigmatized disorder? (^ i mean these previous questions if youre diagnosed by a psych, if not its perfectly valid as well ofc) whats personally helping u to cope?

Good luck! I’m glad I could offer some help/reassurance. Maybe instead of a physical journal you could use a private blog or even just a notes app on your phone/computer if that sounds safer?

I do hope things improve with your new therapist and that things work out, it’s good that she at least agrees you might have a PD. Normally I’d recommend a therapist who specializes in PDs, maybe even especially NPD, but idk if that’s accessible for you and/or if you’ve already tried it and had no luck.

But again, I want to reiterate that you’re not alone, and what you’re going through and what you feel is 100% relatable to other pwNPD. I truly wish that more people understood us and the irony isn’t lost on me that it’s always “empaths” who are the ones who have the LEAST empathy for us. And I feel like the societal lack of understanding contributes to the more “ugly” or “stigmatized” traits of our disorder even more, tbh. Anyway, my point is that I definitely don’t mind at all if you vent, so please do feel free to DM me if you want to or feel more comfortable that way!

As for my diagnosis, it’s a bit messy — for context im a recent graduate from college and the bulk of my therapy came from campus services, where it was acknowledged I very likely had a PD especially within cluster B but I never got an official diagnosis while I was seeing the school-based therapist, and at the moment I’m trying to find a new therapist who can help me. At first we thought I just had a really intense form of rejection sensitivity dysphoria due to ADHD, then realized it was likely something else. So I’m a weird mix of “self diagnosed, but likely wouldn’t have admitted it to myself or realized it if a professional hadn’t pointed me in that direction.” Until I can find a professional im honestly just doing the best I can to help myself. Sometimes I get tempted to turn to substances to cope bc they make me softer and more open, and if you feel the same way I highly recommend avoiding this, ofc. I mostly use relatable music (lmk if you want my NPD playlist!) and DBT workbooks as a way to help myself, and I also just try my hardest to avoid or remove myself from situations where I might lose my cool and become toxic. Obviously this is easier said than done, but there are ways to do it. For instance, if I’m in a group chat where I feel like people are getting more attention than me, I’ll mute the group chat and maybe text someone from a different group one-on-one (not necessarily about my issues, just in general).I know that answer is pretty mild and entirely social media based lol, but it’s the best example I can provide.

3 notes · View notes

cutebutahandful · 4 months

Text

in which u r a jellyfish in the shape of a man (spineless)

i told myself i didn't want to spend another year having to pour out the love and anger and hurt from tyler but lately a couple things have been ringing in my head and won't let go so let me write this out to exorcise it

the first is him telling me "we were never going to work out" after the lawyer's office - the rage i felt when he said that was incandescent. it felt like a huge fuck you after all the effort i put in the relationship which had always felt one-sided to me; this statement made that feel even more real. one of our biggest issues was lack of communication and consistency from him - i hated when he ran away and ghosted me in lieu of actually talking shit out and i hated when he wouldnt tell me his real feelings even when it was glaringly obvious he was mad at me. i thought those were rookie r/ship issues that would get better with time bc it was obvious he had legacy r/ship issues he hadn't healed from but i didnt rly care bc it wasn't like i had zero baggage either, i was happy to be there and work it out with him. i also rly hated that he didn't plan for our dates/impt celebrations and it was always me coming up with things 2 do even after i told him multiple times it was important to me. it's actually whack that when i told him that, he said, "yes but i come for every date even though I'm tired from work" and he made me feel so bad about it - i rly dk why I thought that was something acceptable!!!! B said tylr was just emotionally dense and tylr did tell me that he was trying the hardest he'd ever tried so i just thought he didn't kno how 2b a good boyfriend but that it would work out bc at least he said he was trying. anw it clearly didnt work out so i should've gone with my gut and dipped instead of fruitlessly following my heart or believing in the best of him. this also felt like him minimizing what I do/feel again so i guess that's why it was so triggering - the fact that he reduced his infidelity and betrayal of trust to "I should've shown more care to you in ur vulnerable moments" literally what the actual fuck. how do u minimize talking shit abt ur pregnant girlfriend, revealing her secrets to ur friends, making fun of her with rbkh and checking out s*x workers at massage parlors to "i should've shown more care" - is basic empathy out of ur wheelhouse

"we were never going to work out" is such a defeatist statement and it rly hurt bc it felt like everything i did ultimately didn't matter because he had already made up his mind that we weren't going to last. it explains why he betrayed my vulnerabilities and secrets and spoke badly about me behind my back to his friends though - in his mind, i was never end game so what did a little mudslinging matter lmao. i think the words sting also bc the defeatism showed i was not someone he felt was worth fighting for and that obv hurts coming from someone whom you love with all your heart - to know you matter so little when you've invested everything and more into him is more than a little heartbreaking. the anger also comes from all his lies - both in manipulating me and in presenting false/half-true narratives to his friends. i really h8 my naivete in believing him (even when i felt things were off) and i now recognise that that was pure manipulation/gaslighting - him blatantly lying about shit that he did to me and making me believe that i was unsound. he'd get mad at my rxn to the fuckshit he did then ran with that 2 rbkh lmao.

in tandem with "we were never going to work out" was him saying "i've fought for the relationship" which was the biggest lie ever and smth i know he texted jsut so he could screenshot it to his friends to look good. the real truth is the complete opposite bc i rarely felt that he had my back/was in my corner. i felt like an option rather than a priority, and it was compounded by him placing everyone else above my needs/caring what other people had to say about certain issues, but not my viewpoint even when they were issues that affected our relationship. how many times had he ignored me when I was in hospital or needed him to talk to me about whatever issues we were facing lmao. i had to watch him do things he hardly did for me: plan activities for his friends/colleagues, gift them the same things he gave me and show up for them in a way he didn't for me.

i hated him valorising his ""efforts"" in front of other people because they werent true - how are you fighting for our relationship when you bring our issues to other people (and dont even discuss it with me after), how are you fighting for our relationship when you won't plan for a future with me (but discuss how i should finance the mortgage with your friends instead of me), how are you fighting for our relationship when you and rbkh were making fun of your girlfriend when she was preggers lol i also hated that he said buying the condo was his Grand Gesture of Love for me when the truth was the opposite - it was me asking what our future was going to be/look like + when he initially talked about the condo, it was right after we got back tgt aft our first breakup and he meant it for himself (which is valid, and so was me asking what that meant for our future/if there was a place there for me) ((also i found out that the desire for getting his own place was sparked by rbkh getting a place of her own)) (((and his ultimate decision to choose the place was bc it was less than 10 mins away from his ex, the one he'd been texting behind my back throughout our relationship))) i haven't even touched on the massage parlor girls he has on his phone or his propensity to look for leaked discord/OF n00dz or the miscarriage but i dont think im ready to talk about it yet here

i actually have a lot more 2 say but i cried my feelings out already so i think im gucci but the tldr to this is that cowardice is tylr's trademark and no amount of cosplaying as a good person will erase the BS he put me through

#fucktylerhours

0 notes

teklarn · 3 years

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention.

genre: a lil bit angsty

warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood

word count: 2112

pt 1 , pt 3

- - -

kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought.

y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back.

jealousy panged in his chest.

bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to.

he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there.

whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter?

what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help.

it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first.

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it.

whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something?

the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time.

you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one.

honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet.

his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp.

sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child.

you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it.

perhaps you were being cocky.

this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him.

it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted.

it was interesting for another reason.

it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest.

he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown.

“don’t get distracted.”

your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down.

before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight.

he panted atop you, hands tightening.

tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima.

the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.

bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in.

his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets.

your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed.

“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck.

his cheeks burned red. “w-what?”

“you heard me.”

he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more.

“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood.

“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.”

“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?”

“you’re strong, damn idiot.”

you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.”

“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight.

y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway.

they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered.

he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him.

kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?”

“you’re creepy as shit.”

“i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-”

“while you peeped in on y/n?”

“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.”

it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man.

when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.”

bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.”

kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.”

“fine?”

“they’re amazing.”

“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?”

“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped.

“you train with me.”

“it’s an hour before curfew.”

bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked.

“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle.

the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass.

the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays.

it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend.

this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.

it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff.

with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one.

his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly.

swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched.

bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission.

kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack.

bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side.

it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars.

it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright.

“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?”

“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to.

bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.”

“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue.

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help.

“we should head back before this gets any worse.”

bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.

although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out.

you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself.

the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt.

bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat.

“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?”

“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.”

“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you.

you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?”

“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed.

“dude, i’m really sorry—”

“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”

you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.”

“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.”

“your nose is broken,” you said gently.

“so? can’t you fix it?”

you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?”

“can you or can you not?”

“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―”

“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.”

you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm.

kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though.

146 notes · View notes

phantaloon-books · 3 years

Text

I was rereading the iconic reunion at baltimore and this came to me and I can't not write it (even though I have a half finished chapter waiting to be written for a fic for a whole different fandom but who cares right)

in which neil regrets realizes that the feds were on to something when they talked about witness protection program. brace yourselves, it's angst time bby. please bear with me, I don't write stuff like this, content and format wise.

so everyone knows what goes down in baltimore. everyone knows that famous college exy striker for the foxes neil josten has been the son of the butcher of baltimore all along, and that smth happened after he was kidnapped and tortured that resulted in the butcher and some associates to be killed. everyone knows that neil walked out alive, injured but alive. so when a few weeks, months later, associates of the butcher start getting raided and taken in custody, everyone knows exactly who opened his little mouth and revealed everything he knows (bc there's literally no one else who could know this stuff and would be willing to share with the fucking feds, no one has a death wish)

It's a slow process. It starts with the feeling of not being safe, which is ridiculous, because he hasn't been quite as safe as he is right now, with the foxes, his family, and most importantly with Andrew. They're on summer break, technically speaking, even if they're at campus for practice because they gotta train the new foxes. They're barely doing anything than hanging out together and training, but still Neil can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that someone is watching him, but he doesn't say anything, because it doesn't make sense, he's just being paranoid, there's no need to panic.

Neil can swear he's being watched. He feels the dread whenever he's out of the dorm, when he's out running, when they go out to eat something, when they go to the mall, on their way to practice, at Eden's. But when he looks around there's no one looking, it's been weeks and nothing has happened, he hasn't seen anyone.

Neil can tell Andrew is growing suspicious of the way he checks out a place, the way his eyes trace every corner, every exit, because he's starting to fall back in old habits, and he knows Andrew hates it. But Andrew doesn't ask, he knows that Neil will speak when he feels ready, so he lets it go, even if he can't quite let got of the worry clawing at his heart.

But everything keeps going normally, things are fine, everything is fine fine fine. Neil doesn't talk about it, but it's fine really. Until it's not fine at all, but it's also too late to talk now because his head is fuzzy and throbbing, and he feels like he might throw up and he feels pain even if he's not sure where the pain is coming from. But he can't do anything now, he can't tell Andrew how he's been feeling dread for weeks, because a man whose name he doesn't even know but whose face is awfully familiar is standing right in front of him where he lies on the floor, and the situation is also awfully familiar.

Stop being a martyr. Oh Andrew would kill him. If Neil gets out of this alive, Andrew will kill him, because he left again. He didn't want to, he really didn't. He was out on a run while Andrew was in therapy with Bee and Aaron, a couple miles away from fox tower, when a car pulled up right in front of him, two men wearing hoods and sunglasses stepping out and standing in front of him. He came to a halt, trying his best to keep calm because who the hell were these men and what did they want and for fucks sake can this just stop? It would have been smart to turn around and try to get back to the tower but he can't ever keep his mouth shut can he?

"Look I don't know who you are, I don't care what you want, but you're in my way, so move away if you know what's best." He intended to go for more sarcastic, but he was doing his best not to panic, so that had to do.

"You're coming with us, get in the car, or we'll do this the hard way." Their voices said they wouldn't hesitate, but Neil laughed anyway, that smile he knew was the Butcher's resting on his lips. Anything to make the men leave. He opened his mouth and then- "The Minyard twins are at Dr. Dobson's office. Reynolds, Walker, and Wilds are at the mall. Hemmick, Boyd and Day are in the dorms. The newbies are at the dorms as well. Come with us the easy way and we'll let them walk out of their respective places alive, Nathaniel."

And he was fucked. Of course he hadn't been safe, he would never be safe. In fact no one he cared about would ever be safe. He should have known better. But he wasn't going to let the foxes be harmed.

"How do I know you won't kill them anyway?" The snark was gone, the smile vanished. His face was blank and dangerous, because he'd done this before. "I don't even know who you are, you're obviously not the big guys, and I don't remember seeing your faces."

"We don't want to attract unnecessary attention. All we care about is you. If you come, you spare us all the trouble. As for who we are, let's just say someone is pissed at the piece of shit that ruined everything."

"The Butcher's friends then. I can't argue with that, it's a habit of mine to fuck up. Ichirou won't be too happy if something happened." He played his strongest card but fuck it. The Moriyamas owed him protection, Ichirou himself had made a deal with him.

"The moment they turned their backs to the Wesninski and made a deal with Hatford, those Japanese shits mean nothing to us." These were desperate men apparently. If the Moriyamas were nothing, the FBI was even less. "Time is running Nathaniel, decide. You or them?"

Andrew would kill him, but they'd talked about it before. Neil had told Andrew. If it means losing you, then no. He would not put himself first. Hell, he'd told the others before, the Foxes were all he had, he wasn't going to risk them for himself, not for anything. He needed to keep them safe.

So now he's lying on the cold wooden floor of some house or shed or whatever, drowsy from whatever they drugged him with once he got in the car, and in pain after being beaten for the last hour or so. He didn't bother asking the man (who is obviously in charge and sent the two men) for a name, and honestly he still doesn't plan to. What was the point of that anyway? He just looks up at the cold brown eyes of the man standing over him, Neil's face as neutral as he could keep it despite the fear of not making it out alive threatening to pull him under. The man just stares at him, calculative eyes and cruel smile, and Neil can't take it.

"What, so you're just gonna stand there? I have better shit to do." He hears the slur in his voice, wonders if it's just the drugs or something else. A concussion is likely. He's met with silence, so he closes his eyes and lays his head down. Fuck he's tired of these situations. He truly will never be safe, no one will-

"You know, I was expecting so much more from you Nathaniel," the man says with a laugh, "I was told that you'd put up a fight, I thought this would be fun. They said you'd beg for your precious life, but you haven't even made an effort."

Whoever his source was, they definitely do not know Neil, or Nathaniel for that matter. Not only is he not going to risk the men hurting the others, but he isn't going to fight, not against so many of them, not when running would be more likely to get him out alive. He isn't going to let them know that. "First go fuck yourself, and second, this isn't remotely close to entertaining to what I've been through, maybe if it was more interesting."

What does Andrew say? Regret is worthless? It seems right, because he can't find regret in what he said, even if his face is a bloody mess (what's new?) and his body shakes with shivers, after his head is held underwater so many times. No, he doesn't regret it. Instead he finds himself laughing a hollow thing.

"Y'know at least others have had a point, this time it's just for the fun of it, and it's not being much fun." His voice cracks a couple times, hoarse from coughing up water.

"You're right though, it is for fun. You cost me absolutely everything Nathaniel. Did you know the feds and the Moriyamas have been after us for months? Hunting us like we're rabbits, all because you decided to be a dipshit and open your mouth. You should be dead. You should have died ten years ago, back in March, anytime. All your existence caused us is trouble. And ratting us to the feds wasn't enough was it? No you told Ichirou all of the Butcher's men were loose ends, too." The man took a deep breath, composing himself. "So yes Nathaniel, this is for fun. This is payback, you've cost many lives, this is retribution for speaking, and I'm gonna enjoy seeing you have fun for as long as I can."

At some point, after hours, he's left alone in the dark, in the cold. He knows he’s in pain. He’s pretty sure his arm is broken, and so are several ribs. He knows he should be in a lot of pain, but he's just numb. Regret is worthless. Because even if he feels even worse than how he felt last winter at Evermore, he doesn’t regret it. He can’t be sure the guy’s men were truly going to kill the Foxes, but he doesn’t regret coming here to make sure the others don’t suffer more than they already have because of him. He wonders if Andrew will forgive him. He didn’t leave proof that he didn’t want to leave this time. Would Andrew think he left them - him? God, he hopes not. Would Andrew look for Neil or leave it thinking that Neil wanted to leave?

It doesn’t really matter, though. Neil is so tired. This time isn’t like when he was on the run or when he went to Evermore or when Lola took him. While with the Ravens, Kevin knew he was there at least, if anything were to happen, a person would know where to look somehow. At Baltimore, several people knew the most likely place to find him; Uncle Stewart, the Hatfords, Kevin again. He has no idea of where he is, or who took him, and no one knows he’s been taken in the first place. No one will ever find him.

Maybe it’s better that way, he thinks. No one will have to deal with the burden of him or his disappearance or his death, because no one will know. The simple thing would be to assume he ran. He hopes they assume he ran. Maybe they’ll be hurt, but haven’t they been expecting him to run? They won’t make it to championships without him considering Jack is an awful striker, but Kevin will manage. Andrew - Andrew is the one who expects him to run the most, maybe he’ll take it nicely. Neil hopes he takes it nicely. Guilt blossoms among the nothingness in his chest, but he can’t take it back, and he doesn’t want to. It’s better this way. No one will find him, but that’s fine. He wonders what the Moriyamas will do. He doesn’t want to think about that. He thinks of Andrew, the kisses, the care, the love, the nights spent together. Thank you, you were amazing. He wishes he could tell him how much he cares one last time. He feels something wet slip down his face. He can’t tell if it’s water, blood or tears. He sighs. He thinks of Andrew, and his eyes slip close.

150 notes · View notes

shotosgaychangemymind · 3 years

Note

Pls pls pls I would die for ‘iwa being bad at feelings, and he notices his s/o seems off, maybe a little sad- so he just- tries to do smth stupid with them’ as a oneshot

omfg i cannot believe i'm just seeing this, i'm sorry!

i love this tho and he totally would

i present Iwa being awkward in:

Cleared Doubts

___________________________________________________________

[masterlist]

pairing: iwaizumi x reader

genre: fluff?

warnings: none I think?? rumors/doubts ig

a/n: i kinda got distracted from the og prompt while writing, so it's not the stupid activity i was planning on having iwa do, but i think this writing is better and i really hope it's what you had in mind. tysm for the suggestion anon!

___________________________________________________________

For people who have been dating well over a year, an outsider may see your relationship as a little one-sided. You, always bouncing around and being the one to express your feelings in the most mushy of ways, seemed to be the only one doing so. Iwaizumi tended to keep to himself. He put up with your antics of dimple poking and "you mean everything to me" statements, but that's all he did: put up with it. Every now and then, you received a quick peck in response, maybe even the rare puppy dog eyes he pulled when he watched you having fun so he could snap a picture. Simply put, he wasn't good at feelings; you knew that from the start, but you were more than willing to be good enough at it for the both of you.

However, when your friends and family started saying things about his lack of affection, it started to stir some doubts around in your brain. You were sure you had locked them away, sure of his feelings for you from the start. But, as more of people you held dear to your heart starting questioning if the relationship was anything for him, your anxious thoughts broke free from their cage and circled fervently around your mind.

Today, you were set to go over to Iwaizumi's for movies and dinner. After pulling on comfy clothes (most of which belonged to your boyfriend anyway), you threw together a small bag filled with colorful boxes of sweets. Trailing your way through your house, picking up small things here or there that might serve useful for today, a small buzz emerged from your pocket. Plastered across the screen was the name of your closest friend, someone you'd told about going to Iwaizumi's for the day after being invited somewhere with them. As expected, after you opened the text, your heart sank a bit as words of discouragement filled the screen. Ordinarily, people who are happy and healthy in their relationship should cut those who oppose it so vigorously out of their lives, but you just couldn't. They were your best friend and you knew they had good intentions, but they didn't understand the situation at all.

While your eyes were still glued to your screen, a beeping noise made its way to your ears from outside: a signal to head out the door. Iwaizumi was pulled into your driveway, waiting patiently for you to emerge. As he caught your eyes walking to his car, a small smile spread across his features, easing your doubt-fueled anxiety a little more.

Although, it wasn't gone completely. You were squirming throughout the movie, trying to find more comfortable ways to curl up into your boyfriends side. Every now and then when he did make an effort to cuddle into you more, you let out a small (an admittedly petty) sigh. You weren't your normal bubbly self, a painful realization for Iwaizumi. He may not show it very well, but he knows when your down and it hurts him a little too. The only thing he wants is to see that smile of yours and your contagious energy to fill the room, so it's uncomfortable to go without it.

You've been dating over a year, of course he can tell when something is off by now. Although you might not know it, he understands that you get doubts a lot. He understands he's bad with feelings and showing his emotions. So, he tries to do little things to show you how much he truly loves you, even if it isn't with his words.

There's one thing he knows you love to do that he's fairly good at as well: baking. Fidgeting with his hands and letting an unsure voice escape him, he suddenly says, "Lets bake something."

"What?" You look up at him, and he's staring right back, eyes somewhat pleading or unsure; you aren't sure which.

He makes a move to stand, pulling you up with him. "Lets bake a cake. You like cake, right?"

You finally caught on. His play was already working, sending the brightest smile onto your lips.

Making your way into his kitchen, he pulls down all the ingredients while you look up a recipe. The one you chose was a little more complicated, but you bake all the time and Iwaizumi was secretly a master at it, no matter how much he didn't want people to know that.

You took turns navigating about the kitchen, putting ingredients here or there, getting caught up in the other's feet every now and then making both of you giggle. Once you had finished your task at the stand mixer, you turned towards the other counter and wrapped your arms around your boyfriend's waist, resting your head against his back as he whisked together the batter. A slight hum of appreciation came from him, surprising you a little but it was more than welcome. At this rate, all of your doubts were gone and you were reminded of how much he cares. Especially since it wasn't really common knowledge that you love to bake anything other than cookies (which were constantly in your oven to serve as little gifts for your friends).

Once the cake was baked and cooled, the icing mixed and ready to go, you started up on decorating. That was the part Iwa could never get down, so he watched you work your magic, content at the pleased look on your face. Before long, though, he made his way over to you, only to dip his finger in the buttercream and plop it right onto your lips.

"Really, Iwa?" You joking sounded annoyed, knowing his game.

"Oops, I'll get it," his coy tone shining through and giving away his ticks. He places his hand under your chin, turning it so your lips lined up with his own. Closing your eyes as he leaned in, he filled his kiss with all of the feelings he couldn't say on his own. Softly, lovingly, he kissed away your anxiety.

67 notes · View notes

staynt · 2 years

Note

For the url thingy? Be as honest as you want

I'm gonna be blunt and completely honest, Whatever comes into my head is what I'll share ^^

Your characters and how you play them

I'd of seperated them, But your not just rping already made characters like I am, You were creative enough to actually make your own! So they have to be in the same category! Now, I know I'm supposed to hate Steve and Blue, But those assholes are just too lovable! I love how everything is working out! The mysterious vibe around the Hatzgang, How they seem to have much deeper roots than it seems, The comedy you put into play so epicly, I mean I fucking DIED when you mentioned Picos search history I couldn't take it, It was funny af! But also the character development! You make it take time, Unlike me, You don't rush it! You make it take the amount of time an actual change would take! The amount of effort someone would actually have to put in! It's really, REALLY cool! I also always appreciate seeing your new art and how cool your characters look! Their so original and unique too! Their all written epicly! Especially back when Pump was getting Skid to destroy the world? That was pretty fucking cool plot! And it always seems like with your writing you plan everything! I'd swear to God that you predict everything I say in the rps and have a response planned ahead X3 But it's just so epic and your characters are cool, And your writing is amazing!

And now to my opinion on you yourself!

You, Are like, The best friend I could ever have! You are always so kind, And I know I can tell you anything and you won't judge me! I will admit, I think if I told you certain things, You might pity me or think of me to be different and strange, Maybe even a weirdo. But that's just bc recently my self image fell lmao, But I do know you wouldn't. Self doubt and anxiety aside, I know you wouldn't. You would most likely see me differently but you wouldn't think of me in a bad way, So basically what I'm saying is like, Unless I did smth really fucking bad you wouldn't judge me and are super cool and like my best friend ever! You always listen to my problems and seem to know when I'm feeling down! I won't lie, There was one time where I was so upset and down that I kinda.. Got mad at you, Even though it wasn't your fault. I guess I wasn't like, Mad but maybe just like, Upset? Not mad upset but like fearful about what you'd think about me, I think that was back when all the vore stuff was happening, It was when I was being kinda distant. I was really scared you might've saw me as a weirdo now, That's at least how I saw it after everyone was showing you all that stuff about it,But I think that was probably when my opinion of you really changed (for the better of course X3), Bc it made me realize you wouldn't think I'm a weirdo just for something I like even if it's considered not normal!

TL;DR: your super understanding and really awesome, You listen to my problems and have always been there for me

I hope we end up being bff's in the literal sense!

OVERALL REVIEW

Your kind, Caring, Def compassionate about your work, A go getter, Determined, And basically every other epic quality too! I don't think my opinion of you could ever go down X3

7 notes · View notes

workofthediesel · 3 years

Note

Something with marcia + sarah being friends/Literally Just Nice To Each Other For Once (or smth angsty w marcia,, maybe both) combined

fic requests are open! send me an ask!

Sarah sat in her sitting room, her hands clenched awkwardly in her lap. She was used to having people over for tea—back when the kids were still kids, Sally Mullin would be over once a week for a cup and some gossip, and even now they kept up the tradition, moving from her cluttered room in the Ramblings to her equally cluttered sitting room in the Palace. But it wasn;t the familiar and friendly Sally sat across from Sarah now; it was none other than Madam Marcia Overstrand.

Marcia was perched on the edge of the sofa, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Sarah was. She was holding one of Sarah’s old mugs in her hands--like everything in the sitting room, the mug was something the Heaps had brought with them from their old life in the Ramblings. It was old and chipped, but Sarah was too sentimental to let it go.

Silence was thick between them, neither one of them knowing what to say. They were only here on Septimus’s request. After he’d heard about the disaster that had led to Sarah getting trapped in the Palace in the middle of the Darke Domaine, he had insisted they learn how to at least be civil to each other. He didn’t want his own family--and here he’d hurriedly added “and Marcia,” almost as if he was correcting himself--constantly at odds with each other.

Sarah had been indignant at first. The argument had had nothing to do with her. It was all Macia’s fault for barging in and barking orders without explaining anything. But Septimus quickly shot her down, telling her that Marcia had been trying to explain, and that while Marcia may have to learn how to talk to people better, Sarah had to learn how to listen. Sarah didn’t have a come back for that and she shut her mouth, listening in stunned silence as Septimus told her that Marcia would be over for tea the next afternoon and he expected them to both at least try to get along.

So here they were now, crammed into Sarah’s tiny sitting room, waiting until Marcia finished her tea so she could leave. They’d tell Septimus that the afternoon was a success and then they’d never have to do it again.

A loud quack from behind the couch shattered the silence in the room. Ethel waddled out from where she’d been napping and made a beeline for Sarah’s feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, Sarah scooped her up and pulled her into her lap, wrapping her arms around her.

“I see that duck is still as enamored with you as ever,” Marcia said. They were the first words either of them had spoken since she’d arrived.

“Her name is Ethel,” Sarah told her snappily.

“Right, Ethel. Of course,” Marcia said. “I remember that now.” The silence resumed for a few moments, and Sarah hoped that that meant it would be the end of the conversation, but Marcia continued, “Did you make that coat for her yourself?”

“Of course I did!” Sarah said, arranging Ethel to be more comfortable in her lap. “The poor dear doesn’t have any feathers, how else is she supposed to keep warm?”

Marcia nodded, taking another moment to choose her words. “It’s very… dedicated of you to take such good care of her.”

“Hmph. Well, someone has to do it. She can’t just be left to fend for herself.”

“Of course not,” Marcia agreed. Sarah suspected that she was thinking that it might have been better off for everyone if Ethel had been left to fend for herself in the Darke Domaine, but she at least had the sense not to mention it. Instead, she changed the subject. “Where’s Silas?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarah said. “Out somewhere looking for those silly game pieces of his.”

“Ah, yes,” Marcia said knowingly. “The Counters.”

“That game has completely taken over his life--and mine, too,” Sarah complained. “It’s all he ever talks about anymore.”

“It’s a rather childish game,” Marcia said. “Fitting, I suppose, that he likes it so much, but I can’t imagine there’s that much to talk about.”

Sarah shook her head. “You’d be wrong about that. Every conversation with him now turns into how he’s wondering where all those pieces slipped off to, how they’re doing, if they’ve gone completely feral or if he might be able to get them back. On top of that, he has all these big plans for creating a Castle Counter-Feet League and hosting all these competitions at the Palace. He’s even been writing books about the wretched thing.”

“Books?” Marcia echoed, sounding shocked.

“Well, pamphlets, I suppose. All about strategies and tips for training and how to build your set. He spends all his spare time working on them. I think he hopes to get them properly published. Even I don’t know how many he’s written.”

There were a few seconds when Marcia didn’t know how to respond. Eventually she settled on, “Well, at least he’s passionate about something.”

“Yes,” Sarah agreed reluctantly, “I suppose it’s better than him sitting around like a lump on a log, but couldn’t he have gotten passionate about something useful? If he’d had this much dedication to his studies years ago, he would have been the ExtraOrdinary Wizard.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Sarah bit her tongue. For a second she had forgotten who she was talking to. She was sure Marcia was about to blow up on her, and Septimus would be so disappointed in her for failing him on his plan. She was wondering if she should apologize just to smooth things over--and if that would even work--but Marcia was already talking.

“He didn’t give up his Apprenticeship because he didn’t care about it,” she said. “He gave it up for you. You and the boys.”

“I know he felt bad about spending so much time at work,” Sarah said, “but if he put his mind to it like he does to this game, he could have--”

“No,” Marcia cut her off, shaking her head. “It wasn’t about the time he spent away from home. At least, not entirely. Alther told me that he backed out of his Apprenticeship because he was starting his Darke Week?”

“Darke Week?”

“It’s something unique to ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeships. The ExtraOrdinary Wizard needs to have a much better knowledge of the Darke than Ordinary Wizards do, so during their Apprenticeships, they spend quite a bit of time studying the Darke. It all adds up to a big project with the Apprentice undertaking some Darke task to prove they can responsibly and safely incorporate some of the Darke into their studies. It’s a very big deal in ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeships. Anyway, Alther told me that Silas gave up his Apprenticeship when they got to the lessons about the Darke. At first I thought it was because he was too afraid of the Darke to continue, but Alther told me it was because of you and the boys at home.”

“Me?” Sarah echoed.

Marcia nodded. “He was so worried that something Darke might follow him home, and he didn’t want to risk putting you and the boys in danger.”

“Oh,” Sarah said after a few moments. She didn’t know how else to respond. She’d never held Silas giving up his ExtraOrdinary Apprenticeship against him, but she did privately think that if he had just put in a little more effort, they could have been a lot better off than they were. Not that she was ever unhappy with him in the Ramblings, but life there wasn’t exactly easy with seven kids and just one salary. But knowing that him stepping down from his Apprenticeship wasn’t him being lazy but was a move to keep his family safe…

Marcia was watching her quietly. “Did he really never tell you?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense. The Darke Week isn’t really something ExtraOrdinary Apprentices are supposed to talk about.”

“Will Septimus have to do this Darke Week?” Sarah asked nervously.

“He’s already done it. And passed with flying colors, I should add. Not that I ever expected anything different.”

Sarah nodded in agreement. Septimus truly had skill like no other when it came to his Magyk.

They slipped back into silence for a minute before Marcia set her mug down on the table and stood up. “I should be going now,” she said briskly. “Thank you for the tea, Sarah, it was lovely.”

“Of course.” Sarah stood as well to show Marcia to the door. “Thank you for coming, I had a wonderful time as well.” The words were routinely polite, but Sarah was surprised to find that they weren’t entirely untrue.

Marcia carefully picked her way across the sitting room to the door Sarah was holding open for her, watching the floor to make sure she didn’t accidentally step in any of the piles of duck poo that were laying about. When she made it to the safety of the hallway she picked up her usual speed, her cloak billowing out behind her as she made her way down the hall.

Sarah stood watching her from the doorway. Before Marcia could turn the corner and disappear completely, Sarah called out to her on impulse. “Marcia?”

Marcia stopped, turning back to Sarah. The impatient expression Sarah would have expected to see on her face was nowhere to be found.

Sarah felt a little unsure about was she was about to say, but she said it anyway. “Simon’s wedding is coming up. I’m sure you already knew that because Septimus will need the day off to attend, but… It would mean a lot to us if you came as well.”

The shock that initially crossed Marcia’s features was, perhaps, deserved. She and the Heaps had never quite seen eye-to-eye, and it wasn’t a secret that any event of theirs she attended was because of how important she was to Septimus. But the wedding was Simon’s special day, and no one had discussed whether or not to invite Marcia. But Sarah knew that inviting Marcia was the right thing to do. Septimus would want her there, Simon would want her there, and surprisingly, Sarah found out that she wanted her there.

In just a second, Marcia schooled her features back into an impassive mask. “It would be my pleasure,” she said evenly, but Sarah could hear the notes of genuine happiness that were trying to sneak through into her voice.

With that, Marcia turned on her heel and strode off down the hall, fighting to keep a smile at bay. Behind her, in the sitting room, Sarah was doing the same.

#septimus heap #sh #sh fanfic #sarah heap #marcia overstrand #magyk #thanks for the ask!#anon tag

13 notes · View notes

sociallyawkward--fics · 3 years

Text

Last Christmas

Here it is, lol. The fic I wrote last night with Wham!’s “Last Christmas” on repeat for literally Three Hours Straight lol. It is entirely unedited except for me having a friend read it over briefly and them go “you’re missing a period here” and nothing else lol. Please be kind though, I have not written for months and any Christmas fics I’m posting are more just warm-ups to get me back to the level of writing I was before I accidentally took a break, cuz no way I’m jumping back into my Big Projects without getting myself back up to par lol

ALSO, I know Jaskier seems like,,, really aggressive towards Yen in this fic. She's not meant to be a villain! Jaskier just is jealous and sad so he takes it out on her a little bit, which is definitely not the right thing to do but I think it's a very human thing to do. After this I imagine them going for coffee or smth and just lovingly trash-talking Geralt and realizing "wow we can actually be decent friends" lol

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

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types; Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game); The Witcher (TV); Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Relationship: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Triss Merigold; Zoltan Chivay; Iorveth (The Witcher); Eskel (The Witcher); Vernon Roche

Additional Tags: eskel triss iorveth and roche are barely-there btw; Jealous Jaskier | Dandelion; Mistletoe; Getting Together; Misunderstandings; Miscommunication; Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Alcohol; Drinking; Smoking; (very briefly) - Freeform; Communication; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings; Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion; Mutual Pining; Kissing; Hugs; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Holidays; Christmas; Christmas Party

Word Count: 3614 words

[ao3 link]

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

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Jaskier to work up the courage to leave his car. Instead he sat there, heat off and car growing increasingly frosty, forehead against the steering wheel as he bemoaned his own very existence. He did not want to go to this party, which was very out of character for him.

But Jaskier couldn’t take another repeat of last year’s holiday party. And he knew the second he saw Geralt, he would be back there again.

They had both been decently tipsy, which was their first mistake, but Jaskier knew that neither of them were drunk. That’s why he had been so shocked when Geralt made the first move, pressing him up against the wall to the men’s room and ravishing his mouth. They’d gone home together to Jaskier’s flat and had a wonderful night together, but Geralt had been gone come morning.

They never spoke of that night. And by the next week, Geralt had been back in his on-again, off-again relationship with Yennefer.

Jaskier thought he’d gotten over it. As much as he didn’t regret it, it was clear that Geralt did, and he wasn’t going to push his feelings onto the man when they were so clearly unwanted. It was a miracle their friendship survived it, with how testy they had been with each other for weeks afterward.

Jaskier took a deep breath and tightened his scarf around his neck, finally leaving his car to make his way into the hotel ballroom that Foltest had booked for the night. At least their work holiday parties weren’t held in the offices, Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to force himself back to work after last year if they were.

Jaskier’s traitorous eyes immediately sought out Geralt the moment he walked in. He wasn’t hard to find, with his striking silver hair and refusal to wear anything but black. He stuck out like a sore thumb, in the sea of red and green and gold. But god, did he look good. Unfortunately, he was already occupied with the only other person in the room who refused to wear color: Yennefer.

Jaskier forced his eyes away, directing them instead towards the makeshift bar. Zoltan was already there, and, judging by the red on his cheeks, already several drinks in. Jaskier couldn’t exactly judge. He was going to need quite a few drinks to get through this night as well.

“Good old Dandelion!” Zoltan crowed as he approached, words only slightly slurred.

“Zoltan,” Jaskier greeted with an easy smile, nodding at the bartender. “When are you ever going to give up on that silly nickname?”

Zoltan snorted. “You’re the one who calls himself a flower, Julian.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Soon enough, Jaskier had a drink in his hand and an earful of Zoltan’s voice, accent only growing thicker and harder to understand the drunker he got. He was barely following what Zoltan was talking about, anymore. Something about his ex father-in-law’s business tanking? He seemed rather pleased by it, in any case. Jaskier probably would be to, if he wasn’t still so anxious.

“What’s got a stick up yer ass?” Zoltan asked after a while, winding down from his latest story.

“Just… not in a partying mood, I suppose.”

Zoltan laughed uproariously. “You? Not in a party mood? Never thought I’d see the day!”

Jaskier gave a half-hearted smile, knowing Zoltan was too far gone to notice that fact, and let his eyes wander the crowd. After a few drinks, he was beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy. The idea of lasting out the party was actually beginning to feel manageable, though he still felt like giving Yennefer and Geralt a wide berth. They always exploded at these things, and Jaskier didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that.

Again.

That was one fight their friendship almost hadn’t survived, and it was the worst six months of Jaskier’s life. And that was including the past twelve months after the last holiday party.

“Come on, Dandelion,” Zoltan said, and Jaskier’s attention was drawn back to the bar. “Sit down for a game of cards with me! Or perhaps a round of dice?”

Jaskier laughed, his first true laugh of the night. “I know better than to gamble with you, old friend. It’s about time I mingled, don’t you think? Give the masses what they desire.”

Zoltan laughed again and gave him a sloppy wink. “Go get ‘em, tomcat. I’ll find some other poor fool to swindle.”

Jaskier grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”

Jaskier slipped away from the bar and into the crowd. He greeted people with hugs and kisses on the cheek, making them laugh and shove him away with teasing grins. He twirled between groups of people in a carefully perfected dance, muscle memory even with the alcohol in his system.

Unfortunately, that muscle memory rather quickly led him to Geralt’s current circle of companions. Yennefer and Triss were there, clearly making an intense effort to not be at each other’s throats. Eskel was there, which wasn’t surprising: as much as a sweetheart as he was, Eskel’s social skills definitely needed some development, and he tended to use Jaskier and Geralt as a social crutch (despite the fact that his brother was even worse with people than he was). Iorveth and Vernon Roche were on opposite sides of the little circle the group had formed, and Jaskier dreaded that disaster waiting to happen.

Really, how did Geralt attract such dramatic people to him so easily?

Despite how suddenly off-kilter Jaskier felt being so close to Geralt, last year flashing through his mind, he knew he couldn’t show it. Geralt would notice, and then it would be awkward for them both, and Jaskier would never forgive himself for ruining Geralt’s Christmas two years in a row.

So he flitted around the group, being his charming self. His smile felt forced as he gave Iorveth and Roche (very awkward) one-armed hugs. His stomach churned as he kissed Triss on the cheek. His balance felt off as he waltzed into Eskel’s arms for one of his patented bear hugs (though that was likely the alcohol, now that he thought about it).

“How is it that you’re already drunk, Jaskier?” Geralt said as Jaskier pulled out of Eskel’s arms.

Jaskier shot him a cheeky grin. “Not drunk, my dear--friend. My dear friend. Merely tipsy.”

“With a stutter like that forming?” Yennefer teased, holding out her hand.

Jaskier indulged her dramatics and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, chest burning white hot all the while. His smile was probably slightly too-sharp when he stood back up again, but he couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“The heavier side of tipsy, perhaps,” Jaskier replied, smoothly sliding in beside Geralt to drape himself over Geralt’s shoulders.

A chorus of titters and chuckles went through the circle and Jaskier furrowed his brow. He rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, searching for imperfections but finding none. He then looked toward Geralt for an explanation, but the poor man looked just as confused as Jaskier was.

“Aren’t you wondering why none of us were standing all that close to Geralt?” Triss asked, that coy smile Jaskier was all-too-familiar with making its way onto her lips.

And now that she mentioned that, it was odd. Yennefer was usually glued to Geralt’s other side, and Triss was almost always trying to butt her way in. Her jealousy tended to be a great deal more obvious than Jaskier’s, deliberately trying to provoke the two of them. Jaskier simply got drunk and wrote songs about unrequited love, he knew better than to try and put himself between them.

Roche rolled his eyes as Jaskier and Geralt still just stared at the group rather dumbly. He pointed upwards and their eyes followed his finger.

Geralt, very unfortunately, was halfway into a doorway. Taped to the top of the frame of said doorway was a little sprig of green. Jaskier felt his heart stop. He had to swallow to keep the bile from rising up in his throat. He pulled away from where he was leaning on Geralt. The group was still laughing and teasing good-naturedly, but Jaskier felt like his world was crashing down around him. He looked toward Eskel for help, being the kindest of the group.

Only Eskel just shrugged with a grin. “It is tradition.”

“Oh come on, now,” Yennefer said, her voice twisting around Jaskier’s throat like a noose. “We’re all adults here. Just get it over with.”

Jaskier slowly met Geralt’s eyes. He was impossible to read, even moreso than normal, and Jaskier felt that familiar pit open up in his stomach. He needed to get this over with and then smoothly make his escape. Perhaps claim he’d had more to drink than he thought and needed to call a cab.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Jaskier gave him a small smile and leaned forward. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the scruff of Geralt’s cheek before pulling away, his heart not able to take much more than that.

Jaskier couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he walked away.

Jaskier’s kiss was a barely-there peck to the cheek. Before Geralt could even hope to respond, he was gone.

The group’s teasing had quieted down, and Geralt dared to look up. Iorveth and Roche seemed confused, not close enough to the rest of the group to be caught up on the drama. Eskel seemed torn between beating himself up and beating Geralt up. Triss seemed guilty.

And Yennefer was just smug.

Geralt found himself grinding his teeth. Of course she was behind this (though it was clear that Triss had some hand in it, as well). Their most recent breakup, for once, had been amicable. The past few years had been hell for them, trying to make their relationship work even though they both knew it was never going anywhere. Jaskier was Yennefer’s last straw.

Geralt was more horrified that Yennefer had so easily picked up on his feelings for Jaskier than hurt by the breakup. If she had picked up on them, then surely Jaskier had?

Is that what that hauntingly sad smile Jaskier gave him before he kissed him was for? Did Jaskier pity him? Was he trying to let Geralt down easy?

“Go after him,” she said simply.

“Yen, this isn’t one of your games--”

“No,” she replied, voice suddenly terse. “So stop treating it like one and act like an adult, Geralt. I think we’ve all had quite enough of you two being like this, and it only got worse after last year’s party.”

“Which you still won’t talk about,” Triss chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

“So go talk to him.”

Geralt resisted the urge to growl. “Fine.”

Jaskier wasn’t hard to find, when you knew him as well as Geralt did. He liked to be high up when he was upset, saying it made him feel like he was getting some perspective on his problems. Geralt liked to joke that it was because he was more at home with his head in the clouds.

Jaskier was on a balcony overlooking the city, a pack of cigarettes sitting on the railing. A lit one rested between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air and entwining with the condensation trailing from his lips thanks to the cold air.

“I thought you quit,” Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier turned his head, not far enough to face Geralt but far enough to let Geralt see the wry half smile on his lips.

“You know how the holidays are,” Jaskier replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and turning back to the cityscape.

Geralt moved forward to lean against the railing next to him, letting out a heavy sigh and watching the white vapor twist into the air. He didn’t know how to have this conversation. Between the two of them, Jaskier was by far the more emotionally intelligent one. With him shutting down like this, Geralt didn’t know what to say.

“Are you… okay?”

Jaskier snorted. “Yeah, Geralt. I’m great.”

Geralt considered the words for a few moments, turning around the tone of voice in his head. “Sarcasm,” he decided.

It was much easier to decipher when he himself was using it, rather than try to pick out when others were.

Jaskier sighed, hanging his head. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Geralt shook his head. “What’s going on?”

Jaskier took another drag of his cigarette. “Nothing, Geralt. Don’t worry about it.”

Geralt let out a frustrated growl, not sure how else to express himself in the moment. He snatched the pack of cigarettes off the railing (breathing out a sigh of relief when only one was missing -- the one between Jaskier’s fingers) and ripped the lit one out of Jaskier’s hand, tossing both items over the edge of the balcony.

“What the fuck, Geralt?!”

Geralt stared at him. “You told me last time you quit to not let you start up again.”

Jaskier groaned and put his head into his hands. “Shit. I did, didn’t I?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative.

“Aside from saving my lungs, was there something you needed, Geralt?”

Geralt leaned back against the railing, clasping his hands together. “To know what’s had you acting so weird all night.”

He felt Jaskier’s eyes on him, could see him staring out of his peripheral, but Geralt kept his eyes on the lights of the city. With all the light pollution, it was probably as close to stars as they would get without driving out to the mountains.

“You really want to know?” Jaskier asked eventually, his voice low.

“Yes.”

“Tonight I was pressured into kissing the man that broke my heart, about a year ago now.”

Geralt flinched back, finally looking over toward Jaskier. Jaskier was still staring at him, his blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark of the balcony.

“Who--Who broke--”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, face remaining impassive.

Geralt hesitated. “I broke your heart?”

Jaskier sighed and turned away, looking toward the horizon. “Last holiday party, we went home together. We made love for hours. I told you I cared for you deeply. And when I woke up, you were gone.”

Geralt wanted to say something, wanted to defend himself, but his voice felt like it was glued in his throat, unable to escape.

“Barely any time had passed before you were back in Yennefer’s pocket, not a thought given to us. And we never talked about it.”

Geralt swallowed. “I didn’t realize--”

Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, a frustrated laugh escaping his lips. Geralt’s frown deepened when he saw Jaskier’s eyes glistening.

“Didn’t realize what, Geralt? I thought I was being pretty obvious about the fact that I’m in love with you!”

“Yennefer and I broke up,” Geralt said, deciding to tackle the topic he knew how to talk about first.

Jaskier snorted, leaning his back against the railing and crossing his arms. “What else is new?”

Geralt shook his head. “For good, this time.”

Jaskier only stared at him. Geralt huffed out a breath as he searched for his words, running a hand through his hair.

“You know how… Sometimes, you can have a great friendship with each other, but when you try to date you end up being really toxic and horrible to each other? That’s me and Yen.”

“Could’ve told you that three years ago. Oh wait, I did.”

Geralt sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, Jask. I just… I wanted it to work so bad, we both did. Even though we knew it never would.”

Jaskier looked down at his feet. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping like that.”

“It’s okay.”

Jaskier looked back up at him. “So what was the final nail in the coffin? What sealed the deal for you two?”

Geralt looked away, choosing a specific building to look at and staring at it intensely. His fingers itched to fiddle with something, but he forced them to stay still, clenching the freezing metal of the railing.

“I love Yen. But she and I both realized that I would never love her as much as I loved you.”

The silence stretched on for far too long and Geralt could feel his skin prickling with anxiety. His throat felt like it had swollen shut, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to get any words out. He wanted to look at Jaskier, see his reaction, but his body was locked in place.

“And if you love me so much, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice even more icy than the balcony railing leeching the warmth from his fingers, “why did you leave me?”

Geralt gave into the urge to fidget, reaching up for the pendant on his chest. His fingers were clumsy and numb from the cold, making him fumble, but the action was still soothing.

“I didn’t realize you meant it. Jaskier, you flirt with everyone. You’ve probably slept with half the company, and while I don’t judge you for that, I couldn’t help but feel like I was just the next notch in your bedpost.”

Jaskier dropped his face into his hands. “God, Geralt, I only slept with most of those people to try and get over you. You had Yennefer, and I was just me. I knew you would never choose me over her.”

“I am now.”

Jaskier stayed silent for a moment. “And if I decide that it’s too late?”

There was an uncomfortable burning feeling behind Geralt’s eyes and he did his best to push it back down.

“Then I would respect your decision, and hope we could still be friends come tomorrow. I don’t want to lose you, Jask.”

Jaskier didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I’m sorry I was so blind to your feelings.”

“And say we did do this,” Jaskier said, his voice still guarded. “What about Yennefer?”

Geralt shook his head. “There’s nothing left for me and Yen. We’re done hurting each other for a relationship that will never feel good.” Geralt couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips as he tacked on, “Plus, with the looks Triss has been shooting her, I don’t think Yennefer will be too lonely.”

Jaskier shot him an incredulous look. “Triss and Yennefer hate each other!”

Geralt chuckled. “Yeah, when I was involved. Yen can, quite frankly, be a jealous bitch, and Triss certainly wasn’t letting up on the flirting.”

Jaskier searched his face. “And Triss?”

“There was never going to be any me and Triss, and she knew that. Honestly, I think her flirting these days has been more to toy with Yen than to actually try and woo me.”

Jaskier turned his gaze toward the night sky, a muddy brown-black-orange that ruined any hope of seeing the stars “Huh.”

“They both know there’s only one person I’m looking to woo me, anyway.”

Geralt watched Jaskier break out in a goofy, giddy smile, clearly involuntarily based on the way he quickly bit his lip to try and suppress it. Slowly, carefully, Geralt reached out for one of Jaskier’s hands, tugging gently until his arms came unravelled.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shook his head. “I’m sorry, too. I should’ve said something.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jaskier’s goofy smile was back and Geralt felt his heart clench. He hoped to see that smile so much more.

“Only if I can kiss you,” Jaskier replied, bouncing on his toes a little.

Geralt grinned. “I find that an acceptable trade.”

Jaskier laughed then, pulling him into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long while, sharing heat and just soaking in each other’s presence. Slowly starting to accept that this was real, that this was happening. Geralt clenched his hands tightly into Jaskier’s sweater.

And then, some long minutes later, they pulled back from the hug just enough to press their lips together. It was soft and chaste, but by no means short. Geralt decided that kissing Jaskier felt like coming home.

They slipped away after that, deciding not to head back to the party. Their friends would assume things, sure, but they didn’t care. They had lost time to make up for, they could make up for not saying goodbye later.

Geralt drove them home, back to Jaskier’s flat just like last year. Jaskier fiddled with the radio as the streets blurred around them, trying to find an appropriately-themed holiday station. He burst into cackles the second he found one.

“Tell me this is not Wham!,” Geralt begged.

Jaskier was laughing too hard to reply.

“I hate it,” Geralt said, despite being on the verge of laughter himself. “I hate it so much. Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

“It’s so funny!” Jaskier wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in his seat.

Jaskier had only just barely calmed down by the time they got to his flat. They curled up on his ratty old couch with some hot chocolate and put on a Christmas movie, but it became more background noise than anything.

Instead they talked. They talked about their past together and how it hurt them, and their future and how they would prevent that from hurting too. They talked until Geralt’s throat was sore and Jaskier was nodding off on his shoulder. Geralt couldn’t find the energy to carry him to bed, so he simply readjusted their position on the couch to be something more comfortable and settled in to sleep himself.

“L’ve ‘ou” Jaskier breathed out against his neck.

Geralt smiled, closing his eyes. “Love you too, Jaskier.

#witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher fanfic #witcher fanfic #My writing #triss merigold #Yennefer of Vengerberg #zoltan chivay #iorveth #vernon roche #eskel

27 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter XVII: Et Universum Parallel, A Parallel Universe

Previous Chapter (XVI: Adsumo)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) ft eric

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

A/N: *this is a sad hours warning send me an ask if you cried or smth idk bec i’m pretty i’m gonna cry writing this chapter :”)*

“where has my other ares gone?”

“morning!”

the nurses and staff nearby look up at your greeting, and they say it back with such cheer and wonder in their voices, though you were sure they wished they were in bed.

the dress shirt that wasn’t yours was folded nicely into a plastic package in your briefcase, and you didn’t want it hanging around your house like a ghost reminding you that lee hyunjae was a person who had to deal with for the longest of times.

he was staring at his computer screen with his chin in his palm when you walked in without knocking, and you were expecting him to throw something at you, maybe even call you a name that would hurt your pride.

but he doesn’t.

“this shit is yours,” the plastic crinkles loudly when you pull it out. for a moment, your heart winces because you spent a considerable amount of time ironing it.

it was a dress shirt after all.

“take it back.”

the item was held out at arms length, and again, you wait for him to snap at you, to bring it over to him so you had an excuse to throw it instead.

but he doesn’t.

the look on his face was blank, emotionless, tired.

the chair creaks when he removes his butt off the leather and he slides the white coat off the backseat, turning on his heels to walk towards you.

his silhouette against the light coming in from the window behind his desk floods out his features, but he keeps a safe distance from you when he takes the wrapped dress shirt from you and places it on the small sofa seat right next to the door.

“thanks,” he says, with absolutely no weight of sincerity or energy. “i gotta go for my rounds so get out of my office.”

he brushes past you without physically running an arm into your shoulder, and he doesn’t wait for you to leave by holding the door open.

he just walks off.

a parallel universe, also known as a parallel dimension, alternate universe, or alternate reality, is a hypothetical self-contained plane of existence, co-existing with one's own.

and you were convinced that not only did you just wake up in one, you were now living in it.

someone must’ve kidnapped lee hyunjae and replaced him with someone else.

every second ticks by relentlessly, and those seconds become hours, and hours become days.

it’s been days since hyunjae has said anything remotely mean to you.

it’s been days since hyunjae has had some kind of a conversation with you.

maybe it was his rounds.

maybe he lost a patient to another doctor because of a worsening condition.

the pantry door whirs open while you were filling your flask up with warm water, and the soft sound calls for your attention.

he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything to you, only walking past you to that refrigerator he had you up against not too long ago, stealing kisses when doctor kim walked in on the two of you.

now he was just treating you like you were invisible?

“you look like shit, just so you know,” your lips meet the mouth of the flask as you turn and lean your hip against the counter.

“didn’t know i dressed to impress.”

a box of eclaires was removed from the refrigerator and he stuffs one into his mouth.

what game is he playing now?

why was he so distant all of a sudden?

“busy with work? i haven’t heard your annoying ass much in the last... what, three days? or did you fuck up along the way and couldn’t bring yourself to show your face?”

not a muscle in his face twitched as he finishes the eclaire in his mouth, and he slides the box back into the refrigerator.

“you have your problems to handle, and i have mine.”

a frown crawls itself onto your forehead, and something in your heart cracks.

where has my other ares gone to?

“but i suppose for old times’ sake i could send you home today, you seem like you miss me.”

that was more like it, but why does he sound so... sad?

“i’ll see you in the carpark after work tonight.”

not once do his eyes look at yours when he speaks, and he leaves without another word.

you should have known it better; you should’ve known yourself better, but you don’t.

what was this difficulty you were finding in your lungs that was preventing you from breathing? what was this feeling of dissatisfaction in your gut when he doesn’t bother to rebut you?

you were so used to listening to him cutting you open with his words after you start a fight with him, so much that now when he doesn’t, it feels like he’s playing you. it feels like you’re just talking to a wall.

it feels like he’s done entertaining you.

it should’ve felt better. you should’ve felt happier that the fight or war you’ve been fighting for a decade is seemingly coming to an end.

but you don’t.

was he simply becoming the more professional one at work? did he finally realise that it wasn’t worth it for him to consistently try to break you? was he the first of the two of you to decide that this fight has gone on way too long, and that it was time to stop?

no.

he’s not that quick to resign.

not to me.

how much does god hate you to put you into the same space as him again, even after ten years, for you to realise that you missed it?

no, it can’t be.

i just missed the free ride home, that’s all.

the lamps along the road paint the asphalt ground a bright amber, but the heavy weight in your chest refuses to remove itself.

like a tumor nestling itself into your heart, you worry if your knowledge of neurology was enough to fix whatever was wrong with you, provided you could even figure it out first.

again, the silence buries itself in the back of your skull like a piece of metal, like you had split your skull open and you needed it as an implant to help you recover.

you were drowning in the lack of exchange, the absence of physical touch, the loss of rivalry.

there was absolutely no reason for you to be so destroyed when everything you hated had finally stopped.

really, grinded to an abrupt stop.

the vehicle pulls up to your house and he clicks the gears into parking, both arms tightly gripping onto the steering wheel with his eyes looking dead ahead.

the gentle whirring of the air conditioner in the car was the only thing you could hear besides his heavy breathing, or yours, you couldn’t really tell anymore.

you hesitate for a moment, watching the lines on his forearms come alive again. any other day and you would’ve felt like he was trying to rile you up, but there was something wrong with his energy tonight, you just couldn’t put a pin on it.

“are you okay?”

the words come out so soft, like a whisper goodnight, like lovers afraid to say goodbye, and you struggle to recognise your own tone, your own choice of words, the very fact that you even bothered to ask him that.

but he turns to you without removing his grip from the steering wheel, and the way he digs into your eyes nearly made you want to throw up.

not from hatred, not from resentment, but because that tumor in your heart responded to his gaze.

the moment freezes, leaves rustling outside your open window, an occasional dog barking in the distance; nothing but him looking at you like you were a statue and you searching his face for any sign that you could decode.

nothing.

he turns away.

“why wouldn’t i be? anyway, we’re here now, so get out already.”

a bodily reflex sends a scoff up your throat as you pull your head away, one hand already on the door handle.

yet a warm mass lands on your arm to hold you back and some part of you disintegrates into his lips when he kisses you for the first time in almost a week.

his grip on your arm loosens before he pulls away, and strange, unfamiliar chills down your back, shiny, glimmering eyes looking into yours with just inches between your faces.

he turns back to the steering wheel and looks ahead, his still manner telling you that he was just waiting for you to get out of the car.

so you do just that.

but why does it feel like you were walking away from him, when you were just going home?

he says something so softly as you shut the door, and you forget about it, thinking that if it was important, he’d text you about it anyway or find some way to get his message across if he really didn’t want to face you anymore.

but why doesn’t he?

you were sure he said something, but he doesn’t bother yelling at you for closing the door in his face when he said it.

the car drives off and you notice the moon for the first time in a long time.

you’ve spent so much time looking down at your feet, making sure that you don’t trip over his shoes, that you’ve completely forgotten that the moon existed.

you’ve spent so much time trying to be wary of pride and love, that you’ve lost control of what either meant.

the car disappears in the reflection off the window of your backyard as you walk up the stairs to your front door, the grave feeling of loss and confusion starting to engulf you the same way you were worried your parents were going to choose their careers over their own child.

but that was because you were scared they would love their profession over you.

what were you scared of when it comes to lee hyunjae?

the moon hung outside your backyard glass panes like a round, yellow ball in the sky, the dark hallway that led you into the living room pushes you back into some situational memory.

his hand around your throat, pushed up against the wall, and you were nothing less than happy about removing his report.

“son of a gun deserved it anyway,” you hum under your breath, throwing your keys into a small container sitting on top of the shoe rack.

the air in your apartment was eerily still, the switch clicking when you pushed it down with the lightest of efforts. every little sound, every little move, felt so overwhelming for some strange reason.

sensory overload was the correct term.

you would’ve covered your ears to cancel out your thoughts but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.

not when you couldn’t even decipher what was going on in your head.

the device in your back pocket rings, and you watch the screen light up when you grip it in your hand.

unknown number: y/n! it’s eric!

unknown number: i just wanted to see if you were available tomorrow night for dinner?

unknown number: and also to make sure that this is your number

eric?

pleasant surprise, but your heart no longer does a little jump like it would’ve done four weeks ago.

you: omg eric

you: how did you get my number?

eric: you didn’t hear this from me

eric: but i managed to hack into the hospital database and dug out your number

you: hack into the database? should i be worried that an intern can hack into the system?

eric: oh, god no. i didn’t hack, i just didn’t realise my account could get me into the database. i tried, and got in.

you: an intern account gets you into the system? strange...

eric: anyway, are you available tomorrow for dinner?

you: yeah, i’m clear

eric: alright, cool. i’ll totally head over to the nrd to get you at 6pm

you: where are we going?

eric: you’ll see tomorrow ;)

you: mysterious, aren’t we?

eric: you’ll see tomorrow, i’m sure you’ll love it.

you lock your phone and leave it on the kitchen island, the cold, hard surface not a stranger to your back and your skin where it shouldn’t have been in the first place.

the thought shoves itself around in your mind, the stubbornness of such an intangible object so difficult to remove, you wonder if it was ever going to go away on its own.

the night sinks into your blood as the moon hung itself to bare. you try to recall the last time you looked at the moon without thinking about anybody, and it hurt to feel like you should’ve been with someone else under this gorgeous moonlight.

the familiar corpse that displayed itself across the sky comes round again, and it soon gets hidden behind all the windows of the building.

sanitizer and disinfectant’s become your own scent, the only thing that greets you when you push into the office.

there was nobody next door, but you could tell he was already in because his briefcase was sitting on the floor by his table.

again, you don’t even see his shadow today.

eric sends you little text every now end then to encourage you on your rounds. you found it a little redundant because there was nothing much to “encourage”, nonetheless, you felt motivated.

the corpse was staring at you in large, red, digital numbers every time you were at a lift.

faces that brushed past either earned a polite smile from you or zoned-out eyes.

the research department greets you like a home you didn’t want to return to, the only thing there that yearned for your attention was eric.

“are you excited for tonight?” eric’s bright, child-like eyes were flitting gorgeously across the span of your face, and for a moment you feel like you were his most important person.

“can’t i know where we’re going?” you pout and notice hyunjae coming out the lift with a file of research material, and he walks to another research officer nearby to ask something.

“no, of course not!” eric rolls his eyes and squints at you. “unless you don’t eat beef.”

hyunjae nods and has the file opened out in his palm, his pupils flying across the page as he flips it.

“uh... no, i’m not...”

hyunjae struts past your row, attention still mounted to the file while he walks to his cubicle behind you.

“not what?”

he sees you for a moment.

but he drops the file on his table and sits down, the clacking on the keyboard sounding like a nightmare from not long ago.

“i... don’t don’t eat beef.”

“oh, that’s a relief.”

“you do realise that question literally tells me we’re having steak or something tonight, right?”

the intern blinks at you innocently before nodding his head, and you give him a light punch to his shoulder, light chuckles run through your throat in soft vibrations.

eric talks to you about steak back home in LA, but you don’t really absorb anything. he sounds like you when you were begging for your parents’ attention; talking about unimportant things.

were your parents like this too?

the lift dings and a familiar faces comes out between the metal doors. he looks tired, less spirited, but somehow more at ease.

“lee,” he calls out, and you hear the clacking on the keyboard halt. “come with me on my rounds in fifteen, i’d like to introduce one of my patients to you. he just came out of an operation and i’ll be transferring it to you.”

doctor choi reaches hyunjae’s cubicle and the younger male stands up, his jawline suddenly looking extremely glaring to you.

“okay, i’ll go back to my office to get my patient files.”

they continue the conversation, and eric continues his.

later that day, the pantry door greets you like the gates to hell, and you see hyunjae standing inside, mug in hand, back against the door as he looks out the window.

why am i here?

the door whirs open when you find yourself pressing your staff ID to the scanner and you grab some tea sachets.

“you look stressed, messed up a report or two?”

silence.

confusion tightens your facial muscles, and you struggle to find something to do with the tea sachets.

he doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, only the slight heave of his shoulders when he breathes.

“am i talking to a ghost now? or did you finally realise that you were just fighting a losing war?”

again, nothing.

hyunjae gives his mug a rinse in the sink next to you, his warmth almost within reach. he avoids your eyes, avoids looking at you altogether, and he leaves.

you wanted to yell at him for ignoring you, but it was a hospital, and you are a professional.

the sky starts to cry for you, for your confusion, for your lack of grasp on the situation.

it really feels like you were a lost child in a maze, and you were nowhere near figuring the way out.

droplets of rain were trailing after each other on the window of your office, the orange sun completely disappearing behind those dark, dark clouds despite the rain having stopped.

each drop hits another and it runs down the glass.

knock knock

“come in,” you call out without looking over your shoulder.

“hey! you ready to go?”

the greeting earns your attention and you watch eric holding onto his bag like a child. the sight puts a smile on your face and the rain on the window pane bids goodbye to you as you walk over, fingers coming round the handles of your briefcase.

eric holds out a hand for you, like he was asking you to dance.

your spirit ascends a little at the contact, and eric’s grin was so gorgeous.

his warmth was gentle, comforting; it does feel like you were holding a child’s hand.

“are you interested on eating anything else? since you already know we’re going to a steakhouse,” the reflection of the two of you was staring back at you, your hand in his and he was just about a head taller than you.

if you were with someone else, you’d need to tilt your head higher to even meet his eyes.

“mm... how about--”

ding

the light from the lift pours out around the person inside, and the look on his face crushes your spirit in ways you couldn’t understand.

“hyung!”

hyunjae’s left eye brow twitches, but nothing else moves.

his legs tear him away from the lift and the wind that brushes across your face when he walks past you offers his scent.

the only scent that took you away from sanitisers and disinfectant.

why was the day so draining when you barely did anything?

you didn’t go out of your way to do anything big or tiring.

the private room of the restaurant was providing you a gorgeous view of the city outside, and the food was nothing less than great.

yet for some reason, you don’t feel whole.

eric spends most of the dinner talking about his life in LA, why he came back, how he became a neuro-research intern... his life in LA, why he came back, how he became an intern... his life in LA, why he came back and how he became and intern.

my life here, why i’m here with eric, and how i became one half of two areses.

i am half full, but i feel half empty.

half. fifty percent.

my aphrodite is sitting right infront of me, but why do i feel like i need ares more?

i am ares, so why am i not enough?

if i am brutal, then he is cruel.

and ares is both.

ares is nothing without the two.

the scent appears in your nose against your will, and the warmth on your thighs melt through your skin into your bones. the taste on your tongue pushes you into a loss of control, and your press your peach tinted lips against each other. your fingers brush your neck where foundation was no more because you didn’t need it.

half of two is not whole.

i am not whole.

not without him.

“eric--”

“and i was just so psyched to--”

“eric.”

he stops, the brightness in his face doesn’t fade but his hands start to droop when he notices your eyes staring into the table cloth like you had just seen a dinosaur on it.

“...are you okay?”

your heart is shaking in your chest like it was having an earthquake, and the nerves in your head start to spark like they were malfunctioning gears.

“i... i need to go.” the briefcase gets wrapped in your hold again, and you pull out a credit card to hand to him. “pay for it with my card and i’ll get it back from you tomorrow--”

“wait, y/n, where are you going?” he stands up, and you realise you were already turning on your heels.

your body was reacting to your feelings faster than you could process them. comprehending that on its own was enough to uneven your breathing, much less keep your composure in front of him.

where am i going?

the silence was deafening, and you see that split second that eric’s eyes softens into something more mature, something more understanding.

like he knew.

“are you going to look for hyunjae hyung?”

there was a throbbing inside you, but you couldn’t tell if it was from your head or from your chest anymore. eric eyes bury themselves into your soul, and you realise that he was never your aphrodite.

aphrodite was never yours to begin with.

you were half of two for a reason.

eric crosses the space between you and pulls you into a tight hug. a gulp forces itself down your throat when your chest huffs itself against his.

he pulls away and steps back, giving you a small punch to your shoulder.

“i’ll see you at the office tomorrow, and i’ll pay for the dinner. we’re still friends, right?”

your card gets extended out to you, your teeth grinding against each other in your mouth as you take it from him.

“of course.”

eric nods with satisfaction, sending you off on your way.

“y/n.”

the handle of the door was cold, and you turn to see that you were leaving aphrodite alone in the room.

“your number? i didn’t get it from the system.”

a pause, like he was trying to read your face.

“he gave it to me.”

how much does god have to hate you for you to spend ten years fighting a war, only to have you wish you weren’t...

because you were in love with the person you’ve been fighting?

the whitening knuckles on your fist urges you to release your hands, the cab coming up around the corner.

the living room light was dimly lit, so maybe the only thing that was illuminating the house was the kitchen light.

you pay for the cab and your shoes get damp from stepping into a puddle on the pavement.

water dripping from trees and plants into puddles ring like bells in nature, the gravel crumbling behind you as the cab drives off.

the skin on your fingers come into contact of the wooden door, and you stop yourself, wondering if this was right.

your pride. your ego. your desire to win.

what was it worth if you no longer knew was love was?

love was younghoon carrying your bag when he knew he didn’t want to.

love was eric trying his very best to find some way to contact you, sending you texts to encourage you.

love was him leaving you alone after he realised this was no longer a war fuelled by hatred.

the sound that emitted from the contact shivers through your fist as you knocked on the door.

i need my other ares, for we are not whole without one another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17.5: Inevitibilis

A/N: WHOOO LONG CHAPTER BUT ARE YOU GUYS ALRIGHT HAHAH

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #eric son #the boyz #the boyz lee hyunjae #timetohajima hostis #the boyz eric

132 notes · View notes

itsthebiiii · 4 years

Text

A messy summary of Ikepri Yves’ route up to chapter 15

So I've reached the point in Yves' route where I could choose which ending route (? idk) to pick and lemme just say that it's been cute... up until chap 15-ish. Also I drained my wallet dry just to get the premium avatars and his povs because imma simp for Yves so RIP me I guess

Okay, so summaries mean spoilers so imma put them all under the cut for all yall who don't wanna get spoiled. I may or may not have missed some points (especially about the plot i’msosorry) and maybe I understood some things wrong so feel free to correct me (pls). This is SUPER messy so proceed with caution

So first of all.

YVES IS SO CUTE WTF ???????

I mean he gave me strong Jonah vibes at first, it’s still there but kinda... different?

On MC's first day at the castle, while she was strolling around, she notices Yves watching her from behind a pillar wtf. When he's found out he was like "i-it's not like I was worried about you stfu" and afterwards he told MC that he's gonna keep an eye on her because he's not sure she’d do her job as Belle right but he says he's only doing it because he's doing his duty as a prince yea right

Later they bumped into Nokto who reminded MC about the Belle system (MC: dafuq is that???). After they explained all that Yves was like "yo you better not fall in love with me or else" and MC replied with "bruh if you ever steal my heart then I'm all yours for eternity" then Yves comes back with "if you ever steal mine then imma do the same. But i kid you not, that will NEVER happen" and they both laughed it off like it's nothing. Meanwhile Nokto's just listening from the side like "HA HA BET"

Anyway, part of Yves keeping an eye on MC means he'd spend some quality time™️ with her and him going to her room to wake her up 😂 also, he decided to show her around and tell her about the princes so she can get a grasp of them to see who is the most suitable to be the next King. So he gives her a memo pad to write their deets down on and she got to talk to everyone except Chevalier cuz that dude scary 😭 MC's feeling down because she really wanted to know what his plans are if he becomes King. Seeing this, Yves comforts her with a leFtOvEr piece of cake from dinner. MC goes on bout how being affected by this whole thing is a disgrace to her Belle title so she's determined to try again. Yves is impressed by this so he silently supports her. In the end, ye, MC got Chevalier to talk and all is well not

After all the introductions, our girl MC straight out tells Yves "Aye this is great and all, but you've never really told me about yourself fam" because ye, she got a point tho. He kept singing praises about the other princes but never really talked about himself

SO... he takes her out to town on a date the next day to show (yes, show) her, and while walking she notices that everyone they passed by whispered under their breaths about how Yves has such a doll-like face and all that. But that's not all...

They also whispered bout how they shouldn't go near Yves and his backstory is revealed: Yves has some Obsidian blood in him, and the Obsidian kingdom, let's say, have some beef that's as old as time with Rhodolite and the other kingdoms(??). Also his earring was given to him by his mother who is from Obsidian 🥺 But he doesn't hate her from what I've read so, there's that

SOOO ye. Everyone avoids him and spreads rumors bout him, he thinks everyone hates him but he doesn't give a fuck bout that. He says as long as he realizes his own self worth, all those don't matter to him. But MC notices that Yves hates himself more than anyone does. That he puts up this proud façade just to hide his real feelings. That before you can even ask him to spit it out, he's just gonna sweep all that aside with his 'idgaf' attitude. He also revealed that he plans to bring the Kloss family’s honor back if he becomes King. Oh, and he mentioned there may come a time when he’ll betray Rhodolite so... o.O

Returning from the date, MC bumps into Leon who decided to spill some tea bout why Yves actually wanted to keep an eye on her (I'm sorry but I kinda breezed through this part so this was all I could remember 🙇‍♀️). Then one day Leon and Licht (either or both of them, idk) told them Jin suddenly collapsed or smth, so they rushed to the kitchen and saw Jin looking weak as he laid on the floor. Yves was worried af, while MC just noticed how Leon and Licht were all chill bout the whole thing, so she realized they were clowning Yves lolol. Jin dramatically tells Yves how he would die if he weren't to eat some of Yves' sweets and Yves was like "??? U CLOWN you even got MC worried-- wdym you caught on??? Haaa!?" And they teased him loool. In the end, Yves bakes a cake for them, when MC notices that it looked like the leftover cake Yves gave her one time. MC asked Yves if it was and he was in full panic mode. Licht was like "leftover??? But whenever Yves bakes smth there are never leftovers 🤔" so Licht tells her that Yves might have baked it just for her, to which the latter denied lolol u tsun

Anyway, to get to know Yves more, MC spends more time with him, yada yada, all that stuff, until they go out to town again. There they notice a group of performers playing and she also notices how interested he was. She then asked him if he wanted to watch them, but Yves declined since he's worried he'll only ruin the mood (iirc he thinks of himself as a bad luck magnet of some sort?). MC manages to persuade him and after he plays, everyone is in awe and like "omg, Prince Yves is actually good :O" And for the first time, Yves felt like he actually belonged and wasn't feared by the Rhodolites.

Everything was cute and all until they get caught in the rain, yada yada, and when they get home they both get sick so Sariel tells them to rest up. Oh, and did I mention they SHARED A BED? No? Well, they did 😏

When Yves wakes up, he notices he's been hugging MC in his sleep and he's SHOOKETH. He then has a slight internal conflict bout why his heart is going doki doki with just hugging MC, then as if he's struck by lightning he's like "omg, I like MC???" When she wakes up he immediately sputters "i don't like u ok!!?!" Then he rushes out to go to the library and look up the meaning of love lololol then he finds they are all applicable to what he feels for MC. But he still denies it because of the stupid system 🙄 then he's found by Luke and gets teased 🤣

After the gathering, she runs to the kitchen and finds Yves there. He told her he spent the night preparing a whole FEAST for MC to reward her for going through all that shiz and MC immediately feels guilty so she cries. She tried to play it off like it’s nothing and the next thing she knew Yves was kissing her tears away. It was her turn to be SHOOKETH but before she could comprehend shit Yves remembered he forgot smth then zoomed out the kitchen. Once outside, he was in panic mode yet again because he didn’t mean to actually do that. He’s like “oh no I like MC I’m screwed”, but in the end, he thinks MC is the one in trouble because she’s liked by someone like him boi I can’t wait for him to see the light istg

After all that, MC is informed bout a gathering Rhodolite is to hold with Benitoite and Jade so she gets ready for that, and when the day comes she’s kinda nervous and stuff. Before going she bumps into Yves who decides to ease her nervousness by fixing her hair (ugh get you a man 💯) and they talk some more about him, how Yves put more effort into acting and looking like a prince to hide the fact that he’s actually 'defective goods’ or smth and through that he feels like he actually has some value. Then he cheers her up by returning the words she’d told him before and it works like a charm ❤ MC then learns that Yves won’t be going to the gathering because “no Obsidian peeps allowed” and since he’s half Obsidian... 🥺 She did promise to meet him at the kitchen once it’s over. Anyways, MC meets diff people, until some punk from Benitoite or Jade talks smack about Yves and comments how he should just be sent back to Obsidian. As much as this pissed her off, all she could do was be silent and wait for the convo to end.

Also, by the end of chap 15, some stuff happens that will actually get the plot moving lol

Aaaaand that’s that for chappies 1~15! I might make another one for the remaining half or when I finish an ending. If you made it this far, here's this leFtOvEr cake from Yves 🍰

#ikemen prince #ikemen ouji #ikemen prince spoiler #ikemen prince yves #yves kloss

39 notes · View notes