#when it comes to my situation (where the person in question is already no longer a danger to others) revenge is the only thing i would get

[moodr1ng]

were all for prison abolition and transformative justice until i say "the man who abused me as a young teen is not in a place where he has access to children or women so i dont want to pursue any judicial action against him, and also i understand that while the abuse he put me through was extreme and awful, he was young, traumatized, endured abused himself, and abusing multiple substances and i dont believe he is the same person he was at the time", at which point everyone looks at me with pity and concern and tells me i dont have to make excuses for him and im allowed to hate him and etc etc. like yeah i do hate him. im capable of thinking past hatred, being reasonable about the situation, and maintaining my political ideals even when it comes to things personal to me, so that when i say "everyone deserves a chance at rehabilitation" i dont conveniently make an exception for the guy who hurt me personally.. anyway.

#97 #csa tw #when i say 'he has no access to children or women' #i mean hes part of a closed-off religious community which has no access to the outside world or the internet where he groomed me originally #like hes essentially a monk. he has NO access to people he would be interested in victimizing whatsoever. #all this to say i would never fault an abuse survivor for going to the admittedly fucked up justice system for retribution or safety #but also i think there comes a point where if one professes a belief that the justice system is fundamentally broken and abusive #then yknow that belief does eventually inform whether you think that broken system should serve as your personal tool for revenge #when it comes to my situation (where the person in question is already no longer a danger to others) revenge is the only thing i would get #and i dont want revenge bc i dont believe in a justice system based on it! #my involvement is limited to periodically (every year or so) checking on the net and making sure hes not back online #it is a triggering endeavor every time to go thru his old profiles and to check on his sister and see the handful of pictures of him etc #but yknow. absent any actually ethical system of justice to address the crimes.. #just monitoring that hes still locked up in some monastery is the best i can get.

[lovesuhng]

pink pen

w.c: 1.1k fluff

You didn't know how many hours you had been in that library; you were tired, but needed to study as much as necessary to do well on your final exams. Your concentration was broken when you felt a touch on your shoulder and then came face to face with one of the most handsome men you had ever seen at that university. His bright eyes, paired with the glasses that fit perfectly on his face, the black shirt that hugged his body nicely and the smile that lifted your worries instantly. You realized he had said something, but you had no idea what it was; after all, you had gotten lost in the almost perfect features of the man in front of you.

"Sorry, can you repeat, please?" You thought that must have sounded like an idiot at that moment, but you were sure when he chuckled before replying.

"Ah, okay. Do you have a pen to lend me? I know it's silly to come to study without bringing a pen, but I must have lost all the ones I had."

"Of course." You searched your pencil case and the only pen you found was a pink one filled with glitter and with a cat on top. You felt embarrassed to hand it to the man, but he accepted it nonetheless.

"How cute! This little cat looks like my Lucy. I promise I'll give it back as soon as I finish taking my notes."

And with that, the man went back to where he was studying, a table right next to yours. You wanted to finish studying quickly, but ended up taking longer than you should have because you kept finding yourself looking at him all the time. You had never seen him at the university before, but you would do anything to find out who he was.

That's how you ended up meeting Na Jaemin, a medical student well-known to many at the university, the very definition of sunshine and certainly one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. You were already used to going to the library, but your visits to the place became more frequent, both to study and in the hope of seeing the man again, although he rarely appeared there.

One day you were in front of the library, looking through the large glass doors searching for Jaemin, but found no sign of him.

"Are you looking for something?

You jumped and screamed, startled by the voice that spoke right next to your ear. You were once again so focused that didn't even see Jaemin approaching. The man was laughing at the situation you found yourself in.

"Do you really find it funny to scare others?"

"It's not my fault you're always lost in the clouds." You just rolled your eyes and Jaemin laughed again. "But you didn't answer my question."

Of course, you wouldn't answer that you were looking for him, so you said the first thing that came to your mind. "I... uh... was looking to see if there was any available table because I need to study, but there isn't, so I'll look for another place to study. Bye."

You wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but were stopped by Jaemin calling your name.

"How do you know my name?"

"Let's just say I found out." You couldn't help but be surprised by the possibility that Jaemin had asked someone about your. "There's a café nearby that's great for studying. Do you want to go with me? I was already heading there." You could swear Jaemin was nervous about making this invitation to you, but it was probably just your fertile mind creating a scenario that didn't exist.

After accepting the invitation, you were already at the café with their orders placed. Both of you chatted a bit and started studying or at least trying to. Sometimes Jaemin caught himself looking at you. He found it cute how focused you were while reading or when you got a little frustrated because you didn't understand your own notes.

The truth was that Na Jaemin had been watching you for a long time; he always found you beautiful, intelligent, and was really interested in getting to know you better. With everyone else, Jaemin was the most communicative person there was, but whenever he tried to approach you, something stopped him or he just froze.

"Oh..." you said in surprise, catching Jaemin's attention. "You're still using my pen."

"Am I?!" Jaemin said with fake surprise. "It brought me a lot of luck in the last tests, but I guess it's time to give it back..."

"No need!" You interrupted Jaemin, speaking a little louder and becoming embarrassed immediately after. "Since it brought you luck, you can keep it. It kind of suits you."

When tiredness took over, Jaemin insisted on accompanying you to your dormitory, even though you said a thousand times that you didn't need it. On the way, he explained extremely excitedly that he had three kittens, Luna, Luke, and the famous Lucy, and that although they were very similar, the kitten on the tip of the pen you had given him reminded him more of Lucy than her siblings. At that moment, you realized that you could listen to the man talk about the things he likes for hours and that he became even more adorable talking about them.

"Even though I'm allergic, I love kittens." you said when they reached the front of your dormitory.

"You could come to my apartment to meet my babies any day soon..." Jaemin noticed the invitation he had made. "I mean... if you want to, of course."

"I would love to, Jaemin."

Then Jaemin approached and held one of your hands. You were praying that Jaemin wouldn't notice how nervous you were about his touch.

"Can I confess something?" You just nodded. "That day in the library, I asked to borrow your pen because I wanted an excuse to talk to you." Surprise was written all over your face. You wanted to say something, but nothing came out of your mouth. Jaemin noticed this and continued. "I've seen you for weeks, always wanted to get closer to you, but never knew how, and today I made up this excuse to invite you to study just to get to know more about you."

"I've been looking for you all week, but I thought I'd never see you again in that huge university."

"So, does that mean..."

"That I would also like to know more about you..." you handed your phone to Jaemin, in a silent request for him to write down his number. As soon as he did that, you stood on tiptoe and kissed the man's cheek, who was surprised by your gesture. You were about to enter the building when you turned to Jaemin and said, "Oh... that pen suits you more than me."

At that moment, standing in front of your building with a silly smile on his face, Jaemin realized he was stupidly falling in love with the girl with the pink pen.

#nct scenarios #nct #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct drabbles #nct x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream au #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin #na jaemin x y/n

[rodolfoparras]

hello again (gaz anon and also the needy soap, ill go by feral anon if thats all good)

I WANNA GROPE PRICE SO BAD, NOT EVEN IN A KINKY WAY. I WANNA FEEL HIS THICK AS BODY ON MY HANDS, I WANNA SQUEEZE AND PINCH AT HIM. I WANNA FEEL THIS MAN UP.

so yes maybe a drabble of a super handsy m!reader who can't keep his hands to himself accidently makes price horny during a meeting cause he wont stop squeezing and pinching at his thigh... it turns into a fun game of "can price cum without letting everyone know that his boy is jacking him off

Thinking about Price with a s/o who can’t help but touch him all the time and it’s not really pda, it’s a discreet hand on his thigh while he’s in a meeting, thumb mindlessly stroking it. It’s a squeeze to the shoulder before running head first into a battlefield. It’s a brief hug and a pat on the back when he’s made it to the helicopter safely.

Price has always liked it that way, the subtle ways you displayed your affection.

Anything else would be deemed unfitting for the professional environment the two of you are in and besides he’s long bypassed that age where he feels the need to hold his boyfriends hand or kiss him openly on the cheek to let the world know that he’s taken.

However, he finds himself willing to eat his words when the new recruit just doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone.

Starstruck, that’s what you called it.

You’ve had a long and successful career in the army. It’s only normal for younger recruits to want to come up you, ask for a picture or an autograph or even a story from the many lives you lived.

That doesn’t mean that it soothes the green monster living in him because he can’t help but uncomfortable fidget when some stranger rests their hand on your shoulder for a picture, can’t help but coldly stare at the way a stranger’s fingers linger on yours for longer than needed when you sign something for them, cant help but want to crush the expensive tobacco leaf he’s smoking when yet another person comes up to you two wanting to hear about your days from the army, unknowingly cutting off yours and his conversation.

Price wasn’t a big fan of pda but what harm could it do to lean a bit closer to you during a meeting, shoulders brushing, and knees knocking together.

Price had long surpassed that age of feeling the need to claim, but what harm would it do to let your pinky fingers brush, when your hand is already resting on the table.

And if he makes direct eye contact with the recruit as he holds hushed conversation with you then its only their fault for sitting directly across from him.

You’d been surprised by the sudden wave of affection but welcomed it with open arms, sending soft smiles his way when he leaned closer, briefly linking fingers under the table when no one was looking, indulged in hushed conversations until his cheeks flushed and pupils widened.

He hadn’t expect to love it this much, had done it at first because of the green monster residing inside. However he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed having to be careful not to get caught, feeling butterflies at every word or every touch, all while being fully aware that everyone at the table knew that the two of you must be something more than just coworkers (and if the recruit had ended up looking like a kicked puppy then it’s just a win win situation.)

Price was thrilled.

However what Price hadn’t expected was that he would end up with a hard on while in the middle of the meeting.

Maybe he was a bit too thrilled.

While everyone was rising from their seat Price was pretending to organize the small pile of paper work in front of him. You who’d been sitting next to the other man had noticed his strange behavior and sent him a questioning glance but he was unwilling to meet your eyes and while the crowd dispersing you decide to stay behind and wait for Price.

“Are you coming?” You say still confused by the man’s strange behavior.

Price clears his throat feels his neck and ear burning as he gives a pathetic response “Yeah you go ahead”

He continues staring down at the table,body ever so tense until he hears the door slams shut and a sigh of relief escapes him.

However he quickly tenses up again when he feels your hands on his shoulder and he hears you whisper the words “John, sweetheart, I’ll only ask once and I want you to be honest. Are you hard under the table?”

He swallows hard, adams apple bobbing as he white knuckles the table.

“Yes-yes” he manages to stutter out feeling his ears and necks burn at his words.

“Good boy” you praise and kiss his shoulder “Now would you like for me to help you out here or take it to your room?”

“Here please” he says, head swiftly turning to meet your gaze.

“What do you say?”

His pupils are blown wide cheeks flushed and mouth agape when he says the words “Please sir touch me”

“Of course sweetheart, you know I’ll give you anything you want”

Spitball w/ me?

#hope you’re doing lovely! #feral anon #John price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x male reader #captain John price #call of duty #sub male character #dom male reader #scribbles

[chahnniesroom]

for better, for worse | part 2

pairing: lee minho x female reader

summary: an arranged marriage is anything but ideal. minho knows that when it comes to his role as a husband, he's lacking, but you haven't exactly been the perfect wife either. a phone call from you leads to a shift in priorities.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, non-graphic descriptions of injury

a/n: this was a highly requested part 2! please please read part 1 before you read this, otherwise it will not make sense. thanks to everyone who commented on the first part, it really motivated me to finish this! i did minimal/basically no editing, so sorry if there's any mistakes!

part 1 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Traffic has slowed to a crawl and Minho tries his best to stay calm, but based on the way his driver keeps checking the rearview window to look at him, he’s not doing a good job. 

They don’t even know the right hospital to go to. You had never specified in your call, so Minho had just looked up the closest one that was on the route to the hotel. 

Honestly, he’s also shocked that he dropped everything to go to you. He just can’t shake the way that you had sounded on the phone. Scared, yes, but mostly… resigned.

You didn’t think that Minho would care, he realises with a jolt. You didn’t think that he would give up this work opportunity to go see you. He feels terrible, of course he does. At the end of the day, it’s not that he hates you, or even dislikes you, but just hates this whole situation. 

He needs to talk to you. Make sure that you’re okay. Explain himself. Apologise.

But first, he has to get to you.

The longer they sit at a standstill, the antsier Minho gets. He can’t stop his leg from shaking and he has to rip off his tie because he feels like he can’t get enough air in.

“There was an accident,” the driver says, speaking for the first time since they left the hotel. They inch forward a little bit more until Minho can see one of the cars in question. It’s completely mangled, the front end is destroyed and there’s debris strewn along the street. It’s no wonder that the traffic is so bad, the site that has been closed off is almost an entire intersection.

“It looks awful,” Minho says, a sudden feeling of dread coming over him. He cranes his neck to try and see the other vehicle and-

It’s almost unrecognisable, but somehow, Minho knows that it’s his car that he’s looking at.

He doesn’t process anything until he’s out on the street, stumbling through the police tape. An officer approaches him, saying something in a calm voice, but Minho doesn’t even notice until they put a hand on his shoulder. He shoves it off immediately. Another officer grabs his arm, this time with more force.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t be here.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Minho fights against their attempts to restrain him. “It’s- I have to- my wife.” His voice sounds ruined, as wrecked as the vehicles in front of him.

They let him through. 

Minho knows that you’re okay, that you were being treated, that you had been able to call and talk to him. But the damage is so extensive that he’s suddenly doubting himself. It seems impossible that anybody could survive this.

Before he can get close enough to really see inside the car, he stops in his tracks. It already looks so terrible, he can’t bear to any more details that would no doubt haunt him in his dreams.

“Do you know where they took her?” he manages to ask.

“Sir?” The officer closest to him steps closer to hear him better.

“The person that was a passenger. What hospital did they take her to?”

The officer names the closest hospital to the site, the one that Minho had guessed previously. Minho thanks him and spins on his heel, rushing back to where his current driver has been idling on the side. They make it there in record time.

The hospital staff redirect Minho to the intensive care unit when he arrives, giving him sympathetic glances as they do so. It’s on the second floor and Minho doesn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator, opting to run up the stairs instead.

The nurse at the desk in the intensive care unit looks up as Minho approaches. He must look like a mess, but she must be used to this level of dishevelment from visitors based on her lack of reaction.

“I’m looking for Lee Y/n,” Minho pants.

“What’s your relation to the patient?” she asks.

“I’m her husband,” Minho says and for the first time, the title feels natural.

“One moment, please.” The nurse takes her time, typing on her keyboard and clicking her mouse. Minho has to resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understands the urgency of the situation. “She’s currently in room 103.”

Minho immediately starts walking in that direction before she calls out.

“Sorry sir, but her current conditions means that only one visitor is allowed in at a time. You’ll have to wait.”

“What do you mean?” Minho demands. “There’s already someone here? What’s her condition?”

“Yes, Y/n-nim has a visitor with her at the moment.”

“Who.”

“I’m sorry, I was not the attending nurse when he arrived. I don’t know who it is.”

“Can you get them to leave?”

“Pardon me?” The nurse blinks up at him dumbly.

“Leave. I need to see Y/n, she’s my wife! Why can’t I-”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down, otherwise I’m going to have to call security to escort you off the premises,” the nurse says slowly. Minho closes his mouth abruptly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths.

“Okay, okay, I’m calm. Please can I see her?” Minho pleads. “Can you talk to whoever the other visitor is, tell them that I’m here? I need to know if she’s okay.” The nurse purses her lips together, then stands. Minho almost feels dizzy with relief.

“I will inform Y/n-nim’s doctor and the visitor about your arrival, but that is all. You will have to wait for them to leave before you can enter.”

“Thank you,” Minho says.

He trails after her for a moment until they get to the room that you are staying in. After a pointed glance from the nurse, Minho drops into one of the chairs that line the hallway. She enters the room, closing the door behind her. A moment later, the nurse exits, alone.

“I let them know that you were here, sir,” she says. She leaves, walking back to her station before Minho can get a word in.

Minho sits and waits and tries not to worry and fails. He spends his time wracking his brain on who could be in the room with you and why they would refuse to let him in. He can’t think of who would be informed and have enough time to arrive ahead of him, not when he knows that your parents are currently out of the country.

The door finally opens and out steps Kim Seungmin, your childhood best friend and one of Minho’s least favourite people on the planet. He slows to a stop in front of Minho and takes a moment to study him. Seungmin’s eyes are red and swollen like he’s been crying, but his expression is a careful mask of indifference.

“Minho-ssi,” Seungmin says politely. “I didn’t think I would see you here.”

“Of course I’m here,” Minho bristles. “I’m her husband.”

“Hmm,” Seungmin says, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he considers his next words. “That’s never seemed to matter before.”

Minho hates Kim Seungmin.

“I-”

“Take care of her, Minho-ssi.” Seungmin moves closer until he’s practically breathing the same air as Minho. His tone is no longer condescending, just sad. “She’s already hurting. Don’t make things worse.” He side-steps around MInho and continues down the hall. Minho stares after him until he disappears around a corner.

Minho hates Kim Seungmin, but really, Minho just hates himself. Hates that Seungmin has a spot in your life that Minho will never have.

He had been impatient before, but now Minho feels nervous about seeing you. He’s treated you poorly in the past, maybe you wouldn’t even want to see him. Not like you would want to see Seungmin. 

He takes a deep breath, then pushes the door open.

You’re awake, but your eyes look hazy, gaze drifting around the room until they lock onto Minho. Your brows furrow then jump in surprise.

“Minho-ssi? What-” You scramble to sit upright, letting out a hiss of pain the second that you move. The doctor, who Minho hadn’t even noticed, rushes forward, urging you to lie back down without success.

“Please, Y/n-nim,” the doctor says. “You need to rest right now.”

“But-”

“Y/n,” Minho says. Your gaze snaps to him. He hadn’t even realised he has made his way to your bedside until he reaches forward a hand and it touches your shoulder. He leads you back to rest against your pillows and this time, you go willingly.

Now that you’re calmer, the doctor stands. Minho glances over, but immediately turns his attention back to you. He can talk to the doctor later, right now he wants to make sure that you’re okay. Behind him, he hears footsteps leaving the room and the click of the door closing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“But, the speech-”

“I was worried about you. I needed to see you with my own eyes,” Minho says quietly. You close your mouth slowly, unable to think of a response.

There’s countless cuts and scratches littering your skin, bandages peeking out from beneath your clothes, bruises blossoming in the remaining skin, and that’s just what he can see at a glance. Almost nothing has been left unscathed. At your side, there’s a number of screens that are each monitoring something and a cluster of IV drips lead back to your arm.

Minho’s afraid to touch, afraid to hurt you even more. 

He ghosts his hand across your cheek before shifting slightly to push back some hair that’s fallen over your face. You watch with wide eyes, not saying a word, although your cheeks slowly flush under his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says eventually, but doesn’t feel like enough. “I know I haven’t been a good husband.”

You open your mouth in protest, but Minho bulldozes on, determined to make things clear even if his heart is hammering in his chest and his words are coming out shaky.

“I’ve been distant, negligent, too focused on work. I know that this situation has been… difficult. That for both of us, it wasn’t what we expected for our futures, but it doesn’t excuse the way that I’ve behaved. I know that even though it wasn’t my intention to, I hurt you.” He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts. You stay quiet, clearly sensing that he hasn't finished his train of thought. “Y/n, I know there’s nothing that I can do to make up for the hurt that I caused. I know I can’t take back the pain you went through. But I promise, from now on, I’ll put you first.”

“Okay,” you say, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Okay?” Minho asks.

“We can start over, make things right. I know I haven’t done my best in this relationship either, but I want to try again.”

“Thank you,” he says in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry that it took this to make me come to my senses.” He reaches out, grasps your hand in his, careful of all the little cuts. 

Minho holds your hand and he doesn’t let go, even when you drift off to sleep.

part 1 | till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

#for better for worse #till death do us part collection #chahnniesroom #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz fic #skz x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x female reader #lee minho x you #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho angst #lee know angst #skz imagines #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 1 - "Along Blackwater Bay"

AN: This dedication has been removed. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy your works.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: Princess Y/N Velaryon awakes on the shore of Blackwater Bay confused, hurt, and alone. She is found and escorted to the Red Keep, where she learns the circumstances surrounding her awakening.

TW: memory loss, reader is AFAB, talks/descriptions of injury, first person POV because I suck at any other POV I am sorry

Word count: 3.7 K

I awoke on the shores of King’s Landing, the water from Blackwater Bay rushing up my lower legs. My heart was pounding as I sat up. There was no reasonable explanation as to how I ended up here. Last night I went to sleep in my bed, feeling rather warm and fuzzy from the wine I had consumed at dinner.

The early morning light was shining through the mist that was coming off the water. Slowly, I made my way into a standing position. My black dress was torn around the hem, soaked from the sea water. My muscles were sore and my bones stiff. Every breath I took felt as though I was being punched in the left side. I was near certain my brown hair was wild, no longer in the neat braid I most commonly kept it in.

There weren’t any citizens on the shores this time of morning. For many, they would have already went out in their boats to begin their fishing for the day. The others, it was simply too early to start the day. However, I did see two city watchmen doing their rounds on the docks.

“Excuse me!” I shouted to them, waving my arms. They approached me, their gold cloaks shining in the sun. I recognized neither of them.

“Princess Y/N?” One asked as he stopped in front of me. I nodded softly. “Come with us.”

I could not really tell which guardsmen they were. They were in full armor, donning a helm and chainmail covering all but their eyes. Being roughly the same height as each other, that wasn’t even helpful to determine who I was following. However, I knew that nobody wearing golden cloaks would bring any harm to me. My stepfather would have their heads if my mother didn’t get to them first.

So, I made the only decision I could make in this instance. Silence laid over us like a thick fog as I walked with them through the city streets. One in front of me, one behind me, their hands on the swords at all times. We went to the barracks at which point they told me to stay in the front room. The one that had walked in front of me went off , I suppose to inform his commander of this situation, while the other man stood in the room with me. It was not long before there were a few other watchmen and even a serving girl to sit with me.

Nobody dared to speak to me other than what was necessary. Even when I threatened them with my status, first born child of the heir to the Iron Throne and betrothed to her heir, so that one day I would be Queen, did not loosen their tongues. None of my questions were answered. All that was said was that my mother would answer any question I had.

They spent longer than I thought necessary preparing a carriage to take me up to the Red Keep. I was almost certain I heard their commander send a small group of men to shut down the streets between here and the Red Keep but that couldn’t be right. Never had the streets been closed because of my travels, as there had never been a time that I was in danger. Once he received word that all the streets were closed and nobody would be looking to the street, I was put into a carriage.

My ride to the Red Keep was done with the singular maid in the carriage with me, one watchmen controlling the carriage, and three others riding around on horseback. They weren’t brought to my precession until after I was already in my seat. And still, nobody spoke to me. I could only glance out the windows at the city to try to see the citizens of King’s Landing, but it seemed though I had heard the Watch’s Commander correctly and the men did completely empty the streets.

It was midday by the time that the carriage stopped in front of the door to the keep. The door was opened and I was offered a hand to help me out. It was the first protocol that had been kept in my presence. And now that I was on the ground, I finally saw the first people besides the Gold Cloaks and the maid.

At the top of the stairs stood my mother, my step grandmother holding her hand tightly as they both looked at the carriage. Queen Alicent had always been a forceful presence in my life, demanding things of my mother and father that were crude and unfair. Though she never liked my brothers, I seemed to be near and dear to her in a way that not even her own daughter was. One could almost convince me she viewed me separately from them as though I were anyone but my mother’s daughter.

Flanking each of them were their respective sides of the family. My twin, my betrothed, Jacaerys stood beside my mother. He was more shocked than I had ever seen him when we made eye contact. There was Lucerys beside him, who looked older than he should as he was a man grown, and the same could just about be said about Joffrey. The other two boys on my mother’s side could’ve only been Aegon III and Viserys II, my two baby brothers, but they were not babies. They were easily nine and seven respectively. It shouldn’t have been possible. It was only last night that they could have easily fit in my arms, now they were half my height.

When I looked to Alicent’s side, Aegon and Aemond stood beside her with Helaena further back. Her three children, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor stood hand in hand beside of her. Again, everyone looked older than they should, older than when last I saw them.

My step father Daemon and my step sisters Rhaena and Baela were not with my mother, but the maid whispered to me that they were visiting our grandparents in Driftmark. She gave me no answers to any other question.

Out of everyone, there were three people that desperately wanted to break free from the crowd. Obviously my mother was trying to hold some decorum, some sort of semblance of what it means to be a Targaryen, even though I could see her inching closer. Jace was completely frozen with shock, the pull that existed between us not enough to motivate his feet. Then there was Aemond, who seemed to be willing to disregard all things that could be considered proper as he took the steps two at a time to close the distance between us.

His arms were around me before I could blink, and despite the physical pain when he touched my side, it caused a comfortable feeling in my brain that soothed something inside of me. I returned his affections, desperate for some sort of connection. As much as it had always annoyed my brothers, Aemond and I were very close growing up. He and I were the last to get dragons, the last to fulfill what it means to be a Targaryen. It binds you in ways that you can’t explain to anyone else.

“Byka zaldrīzes,” he whispered to me. Little Dragon, the name he gave me the moment he claimed Vhagar, to assure me one day I would have one too. “How I have missed you.”

“I don’t understand, Aemond. Why is everyone acting as though I am not real? One would think I died.” I asked him, loud enough so that my voice would carry.

“You have been gone for nearly six years,” my mother said. I pulled myself from Aemond’s grip to look at her.

“What?” my voice was cracked under the pressure that was building in my chest. “No. No. I was just with you all last night. I would know if I had been gone.”

Then I turned my gaze to Jace, who still looked as though he has seen a ghost. His inability to come to me, the way he watched me like I was about to dissolve in the wind, not even commenting on Aemond’s grasp on me, it told me all I need to know. The words were true and I had missed out on six years.

But I needed him beside me. He was my brother, my twin, I have existed for as long as he has and will continue to exist as long as he does. We were written in the stars, always destined for each other. We had given each other everything as we knew we were to be married one day.

“Issa dārys,” I called to him. My king. He will be my king one day, a good husband and father to my future children. We will rule the kingdom together, side by side. We’ve known this for our entire lives, and once we could really understand it, there was no turning back.

He slowly descended the stairs to me. Our eyes stayed glued to each other as he closed the distance. My body yearned for him. He was my other half; we were not two separate entities, simply just two pieces of the same soul.

When he was within arm’s reach of me, his ability to show restraint faltered. He grabbed me by the face and kissed me, all regard for propriety out the window. But it wasn’t as though I minded. I belonged to Jace, I always had, so it was only natural that I returned his affections. Propriety be damned.

It was less than a minute, rather tame compared to all other kisses we’ve shared, but the moment it was over, I become increasingly aware of cracks forming in my heart. His forehead resting against mine, I could guarantee I was home. I was safe as long as we were together.

My mother had informed me that I was not to be alone for the coming weeks. When we were alone in the room I had growing up here, she held me to her and cried. She insisted on me having a bath before I see the Maesters. A few of her most trusted maids helped me out of my dress and into the bath. The way her face contorted in mental anguish, tears forming in her eyes, as she looked over my body was something I would never forget. A glance in a mirror showed I had bruises and scars scattered across my body, including over my ribcage on the left, and a busted lip I was unaware of until now.

“If it brings any comfort, I do not remember it happening,” I said to her quietly as she sat beside the tub. There was a failed attempt to prove to her I was okay as I went to pour water over my hair, but the stretching motion caused enough pain I lost my breath.

“It causes me more worry than anything,” she told me. Her voice was fragile in the same way a flower is, soft and delicate, able to be broken in one move if anyone chose. “But it is nothing you need to fret over. We shall have the Maesters examine you and treat you, in a few weeks it will be as though this didn’t happen.”

Mother asked the maids to go inform the Maesters of our need and then sent one to bring me food from the kitchens. I think it was in equal part that she needed to feel useful but also needing to just be alone with me. There was no part of my brain that could even fathom what she had been feeling for these years.

She caught me up on all of the happenings in our family while she washed me. The night I had gone missing, my grandsire was greeted by The Stranger. She lost the babe she had been pregnant with within a few days of that, a girl that was named Visenya. It was an impossible amount of grief to deal with in such a short time and all I wanted was to take away all of her pain and suffering.

“Did Otto not try to put Aegon on the throne?” I whispered to her as she took her time gently washing my hair. She refused to let it wait for the maids, insisting that five years is long enough for someone else to care for me.

“He wanted to, but when I sent Alicent a letter informing her of your disappearance, she halted her father’s plans,” she told me. “Nobody, not Aegon nor Aemond, cared for the throne after you were gone.”

“But why? She has hated you for as long as I can remember. They have hated us for just as long. What difference did I make?” I asked.

“Oh sweet girl, they have never hated you. I cannot say how they felt about your brothers, nor can I deny the resentment Alicent and I have felt for one another. You, however, have been loved throughout it all. You were the light of your grandsire’s life, Alicent has adored you from the moment she laid eyes on you. Aegon and Aemond both used to beg for your hand. You, darling, take after your father.” She ran the water through my hair, rinsing all of the dirt and oils from it. I ran my right hand through it, as that was the only arm I could lift so high without crying, and it felt much cleaner than it had before.

“Which father?” I spoke, barely above a whisper, standing with her assistance.

“Both Laenor and Ser Harwin loved you dearly, as they were both loved by you. You enchanted them from the moment you made your entrance into the world, and you did so until they died. You are both of them, the best of them, in a perfect package.”

I could only nod. Jace and I knew from a very young age that Laenor was not our blood. He claimed us all the same, cared for us as much as he could. Ser Harwin, though, made every difference in our lives. Even if Luke wasn’t completely aware, our father spent every moment he could watching over us. He trained with the boys every morning, attended my lessons as much as possible, trained me in swords in the eve. He was there for Luke’s birth, was there within a few hours of Joffrey’s. And the love he held for my mother, to be willing to love her from a distance and sire children he could never claim…it was admirable.

“Jace never married,” I stated. It was not a question, but an observation. I knew far too well that if he had, he would never have put the shame on his wife that would’ve been given to her when he kissed me so publicly.

“The two of you share a special connection. He could not bring himself to agree to any marriage proposal until we knew one way or another. He said that he would only be with his other half unless there were no other options,” she spoke softly. She helped me into a new dress, a beautiful sea green color to represent House Velaryon.

“So, until my body washed ashore somewhere?” I asked, a ghost of a laugh coming through. I could see a frown slowly creeping onto her face. “Mother, I’m sorry. I can’t Imagine how difficult the last few years have been.”

“You are back now, my darling girl. That is what matters,” she told me, sitting me in the nearest chair so that she could braid my hair. “Aegon asked me to annul his marriage to Helaena. Their’s was not a happy one, I do not wish that upon any of my family.”

I was grateful for her gentle touch as she worked carefully with my hair. It wasn’t as though my mother had ever been rough with me, but there was a gentleness that she always seemed to have whenever we were sick or hurt.

The first time Jace flew on Vermax, he pulled me onto the saddle. We both returned blistered and aching. Yet once it hit midnight and my fever had fully set in, it was realized I had an Infection because I wasn’t wearing proper dragon riding clothes and my skin was rubbed off until I was bleeding. She sat by my side for nearly a week then. She prayed to nearly every god, even the ones she had no faith in, and she was so soft with me you would think she was a mere common woman instead of the future Queen.

“And Aemond?” I asked her once she pulled her hands away from my hair.

“Refuses to marry. He has wanted to marry you since the two of you attempted to run off to Dragonstone when you were children,” she chuckled. “If I did not know you, I would say that was his idea.”

“In my defense, we had been speaking about the Valyrian traditions that have been lost. He and I were going to marry in the tradition of Valyria and then Jace and I would marry under the Seven,” I told her, a smile on my face.

I was approximately five years old when that became our plan in life. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, so I would have two husbands. Of course, whenever Jace was told about this plan, he vehemently denied me. He said he would give me everything that I would ever need when he was king.

“He was hoping that Jace would find a new bride, so that when you came back he could have you,” she told me, taking my hands in hers. “Before you ask, yes. He was certain you would come back. He spent nearly a year searching all of Westeros for you on Vhagar. He only returned at the request of Helaena.”

“What do I do, mama?” I whispered. “It has been so long, so much has changed. Little Aegon and Viserys won’t even know me. Is Vhaela even alive?”

Vhaela was my dragon. She had been a wild dragon that approached King’s landing near six moons before my eighteenth nameday. She was the most gorgeous shade of amethyst, her scales glittering in the sunlight whenever I flew her. She had rested on a mountain not far out from the city and I snuck out of the castle to get a closer look. Never had I known of a dragon who was so calm and regal when being approached. It was like she was royalty and she knew exactly what the difference between us was. It was this confidence she carried that lead me to attempt to claim her, and she graciously agreed to a partnership with me.

“Vhaela is in the Dragon Pit. She enjoys flying when Aemond and Jace go, I believe she feels close enough to you through them to allow them to care for her. As for your younger brothers, we did not let them forget. They know you, not in the same way they know Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, but you are not a stranger to them,” she assured me. Her voice did not waiver in this. It was instead supported by a firmness that could only result from a confident truth.

She turned me to face her directly, hands starting to squeeze mine. The look on her face was so tender, so comforting, I wasn’t sure what to do except let a few tears leave my eyes. It all felt so overwhelming, and there was no certainty as to what I should do.

“You wished to be betrothed to Jace at a young age. Do you still wish it?” she asked me quietly. “Or does your heart desire another?”

“I love Jace with my entire being,” I told her firmly. It was everything I could do to ignore how my heart began racing.

“Save for the piece of your heart that has long been held by Aemond.”

My head dropped. There was nobody that I had ever told of my affections for Aemond. He had never exactly been subtle, that I would admit. A year before Luke’s claim to Driftmark was questioned, my Grandsire the King had requested my appearance at court. He wished to spend time with me. And during that time, Aemond and I grew as close as we were as children. Maybe even closer.

But that did not matter. Those were the adventures of a young girl. I was promised to Jace formally when my family came to King’s Landing. Any affections that I had for Aemond was left behind in that moment.

The kisses that we shared In the library or in the gardens were innocent. The nights spent in my chambers, talking until the sun comes up. We absolutely did not do anything that was considered something that could ruin me. We did not make each other come undone for hours every night.

“That was a girl’s exploits. I belong with Jace, we were brought into the world together and together we shall always be,” I said while trying to keep my voice steady as hers. Yet, when it came to the overwhelming truth of Aemond and I, I was never steady. And so I turned away from her, withdrawing my hands from her touch. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her stand.

“I only wish to see you happy, to marry for love and not for duty,” she told me, taking a flower from a vase nearby and sticking it in my hair. “Allow yourself to court both of them. There have been many changes during your time gone. When you have been made completely sure, I will not question your mind again.”

Before I could say anything in response, knock on the door echoed through the room. The Maesters were here to examine my injuries. Instinctually I turned to face mother, who silently promised me she was not leaving. With a deep and painful breath, I was able to nod and allow them inside.

#dividers by benkeibear #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #out of time

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - June-December 2023.

Can you believe we are almost at the end of 2023? These last six months have been quite busy for me so sadly haven't been able to read as much fic as I would have liked. But I am still here and will continue to create rec lists whenever I get the chance to read more fics. I am also rounding the word counts so please click on the links for the exact word count. :)

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) (1/1 | 4K | General)

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious. And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork (1/1 | 17K | Explicit)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly. The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection. “So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’ In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Undertow by entanglednow (1/1 | 4K | Mature)

"I don't want you to die because my swirls weren't swirly enough."

Fire and Water by GreyHaven (1/1 | 2K | General)

Derek is full of unspoken words and unexpressed emotions that sear him from the inside out until finally, finally, he allows them to escape into dark ash stains that smear across the harsh white of his notebook. Or, the one in which Derek is compelled to write a story. Turns out, he's writing about Stiles. What will happen when Stiles reads it? Angst and healing and two people finding safety in each other.

eli's parents are so gross (read: in love) by ash_mcj (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

"I would’ve been here earlier, but nobody thought it would be smart to call the one person who’s intimately dealt with the Nogitsune before, so,” Stiles said bitterly as he threw his hands up. "Now I have a list of asses I gotta kick over this very avoidable fiasco. Scott’s first, since he’s the Alpha—I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. His responsibility, or whatever.” The familiar sound of Derek’s car pulling into the driveway caught Eli's attention, and he grinned. “Is Dad on your list?” “Hell yeah, Dad is on my list! Right under Scott.” “Well, he just got home, so—” Stiles didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence before stomping off in the direction of the living room—and Eli quickly scrambled to follow him, ready to eavesdrop on what was likely going to be a rather impressive and amusing lecture. [or: eli is glad that stiles is home, since derek has nearly died several times in his absence, but he really wishes they were a little less glad to see each other] -- prompt | a reunion kiss

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller (1/1 | 2K | Teen)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside. "I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll (1/1 | 9K | Explicit)

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles (1/1 | 10K | Mature)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth. The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles. Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles. Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal. He’s still not convinced any of this is real. Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it. Edited in October 2022

Stiles is My Safe Place by Star_crossed02 (5/5 | 10K | Mature)

Stiles gets bitten by Kali, and after a brief adjustment period, proceeds to co-lead the Hale Pack to defeat the Alpha Pack once and for all. OR What happens when a sassy spark-werefox starts courting an alpha sourwolf?

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

princecharmingwinks special mention (My plane flying companion - I read a new chapter every time I took a new flight)

First Son, Last Chance by orphan_account (12/12 | 60K | Mature)

When First Son Stiles Stilinski, beloved public figure and the bane of his private security team, goes missing without a trace, ex-security officer Derek Hale finds himself tangled up in the world of Argent Security, a world he was forced out of when rumours abounded that he was sleeping with his charges. There's no leads, no time and no way Derek is going to rest until Stiles has been brought home safely. (Inspired by this post.)

That is all folks for 2023! Sorry again for a late addition. See you in the new year. Remember to leave kudos and comments for our wonderful writers.

#sterek #sterek fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

[cherryredstars]

in simon's relationship struggles, you mentioned that he presents you with the ring and you hold out your hand and he slips it onto your finger without either of you saying a word... i love that idea as i am a quiet person myself. would you expand on that please? maybe some hcs about a quiet love shared between them?? sfw or nsfw (or both:)) up to you love your work so much <333

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: How you and Simon show your love without words. 

A/N: I smiled so wide seeing this request!! Thank you for loving my little blog!

Word Count: 770 (Not Edited)

It will forever be about the little things. Every detail and trait and action. It’s about the things that are magnified within the warm silence. It’s not a secretive love. A love that is shielded away from the eyes of others so it can be questioned. It’s the type of love that is so clear that there isn’t any question of its existence. 

Simon is so perceptive. He notices every micro-expression you have and the slightest changes in body language. He documents it in his mind, storing it for a later date even if it doesn’t seem important. It always comes in handy in some way or another. 

When he’s out on missions, far from home and missing you, he tends to imagine your reactions to everything. When he’s out in the towns, he’ll briefly pause outside the shop. He’ll remember the way you had slightly twitched your nose at the colors of a piece of clothing. How your eyes strayed onto something a few seconds longer than usual. Then he’ll walk away from the shop, remembering the name. He’ll be sure to return before he goes home.

He brings back trinkets for you. Always. And it is always something you fall in love with. The same details. He already knows what you would want. What would grace him with that fond smile as you cradle them in your hands. It’s all based on elimination. He’ll pick something up, examine every aspect of it and then go through his checklist of you. How you’ve reacted to similar things in the past and deciding from there if he should move on. He never misses.

In return, you do your little acts of service. Always making sure everything he loves is stocked in the house when he comes home. Has his tea brewing and the kettle going for his convenience. You have the spaces in the house prepared for him to place his things. You make the transition from military to civilian as smooth as possible. His heart warms when he goes to the kitchen at any hour of the day or night, huffing at the sink of dishes. But his body relaxes and the tiniest smile graces his face when he looks to the side and his mug is already in the drying rack waiting for him. 

He has never been more content than on the days he leaves for deployment. You will be dead asleep besides him, but it feels like you’re by his side the whole time he prepares to leave. In the kitchen, everything is laid out for him. The box of tea and the kettle and the to-go cup. A throw-away bag sitting in the fridge with a homemade meal for him to eat while he’s away. All the last minute things he grabs on the counter where he can’t miss it. 

Before he leaves, he makes sure you’re prepared for anything that might happen. He has carefully instructed papers for any situation. Step by step things followed with materials for reference. He makes sure nothing is broken or may be in need of a spruce up before he leaves to minimize your inconveniences. Makes sure the fireplace has wood to last months. Double checks the backup supply of water is filled to the top. Buys extra batteries for emergency flashlights and the back up generator. Makes sure the car has a spare and a filled gas canister that is safely stored away. He predicts any problems you may have and thinks of ways to reduce and prevent it. 

There are notes everywhere. You find them in drawers and in small spaces. In the obvious spots and the questionable ones. Inside pants pockets and coats. All have miscellaneous messages. Some paragraphs long and some with small drawings. It warms both of your hearts. You carry a note scratched out in Simon’s chicken scratch reading Why is there a bottle of water in the bathroom cabinet? Simon’s tactical vest has a crumpled and ripped hot pink sticky note that reads A magikarp can easily fuck you up <3 with the ugliest looking fish drawn under it.

The best form of your love is the quiet nights spent in each other’s company. Laying together with small brushes to each other’s skin. It burns into your hearts, and it’s nice to know that the two of you can just exist with each other. The kisses are slow and loving. The touches are lingering and full of yearning. When the two of you slide into bed, tucked against each other, you find it hard to think anything can exist outside of your love.

Simon has no idea what a “magikarp” is, and he has almost drunk micellar water before.

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

#cherry's requests🍒 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #mw2 ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost x you #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #cod ghost #cod x reader

[luvring]

I LOVE YOU (NOT IN A CLICHÉ WAY)

akaashi x gn!reader | a love letter from him to you! i forgot i wrote this for myself as a supposed birthday surprise so. i guess that worked out for me

the thing about clichés is that at some point, you stop feeling anything at the sight of them.

yearning, infatuation, love so tender and whole that it wrapped around someone completely and sunk deep, deep, deep into their skin and bones, into their veins where they felt it was the same as the oxygen already flowing through—i need you like i need air to breathe.

the same idea repeated over and over until the point of akaashi’s current existence—where he sits, favourite blue gel pen in hand, with at least seven crumpled pieces of paper in the bin next to his desk and the light of his lamp more of a headache than anything—until it no longer feels like enough for whatever he feels for you.

he curses every film and novel for making oxygen too little, too mundane of a comparison for how fundamental you are to his existence.

five hours. five hours he’s been sitting here, reading poetry and writing drafts and bullet points of what he wanted to say, utterly failing at writing a single coherent paragraph. but he couldn’t afford to fail, not this time. this birthday was more important than any other before—it was the first of your birthdays together as a couple.

definitely not the first together, period. keiji thinks if he didn’t meet you when he was thirteen, he’d have turned out to be someone completely different.

and after so many years, everything about you came naturally to him. it was to the point that other friends and acquaintances had come up to him before with questions about gifts for you. you already had a mug with that design, you weren’t a fan of the shirt’s texture, and you could be picky about art of that character, but he could send some of your favourite artists for reference. the person who knew you best, second to no one but you, was akaashi keiji.

he has been since you were fifteen years old.

so the fact that he’s sat here for hours, failing, is a blemish on his record.

he refuses to call it a phenomenon because that word makes it seem so grand, when in reality his situation makes him so incredibly frustrated it was more of a curse. it was an ugly, annoying, unbelievable stain on his identity and soul because for fuck’s sake, shouldn’t it be easier now as your boyfriend?

not only does he know your different laughs and the way your lips wobble while you try to hide it, now he knows how it feels when you try to stifle the noise in the crook of his neck, a smile pressed against his skin. he knows the feeling of your fingers intertwined between his while walking through the farmer’s market, and raking through his hair after he’s showered while it’s soft and fluffy the way you adore. he knows the taste of your favourite lip balm against his lips, what it sounds like when you hum or giggle as you’re pressed against his body and your arms are wrapped around his neck. he could pick you out in a line up of people blindfolded if asked, just by the way you hugged him.

it should be easier for him than anyone else, because you weren’t just his oxygen—you were part of him.

but even that was another cliché.

keiji lets his head hit the desk, hands coming up to pull at the roots of his hair while a loud groan escapes his lips.

“should i learn how to bake?” he mutters to himself before grimacing. “watch me bake a cake and give the love of my life food poisoning. incredible plan. what the hell is in a cake? what would i even put on it? awful cursive lettering?”

no one talked about the pressure that came with the first birthday in a relationship. why is this not a more pressing specific situation for newly dating people? why did no one tell him he’d feel like a heavy rock rested on his chest at the thought of disappointing you not only as a friend but as a boyfriend. he thinks he could die.

he can’t, won’t, die, but you’ll get home from your friend’s place in only a couple of hours and he’s running out of time (not really. he’s doing this a week early, but he set a schedule for himself and it’s the principle of the thing.)

“fuck it,” he murmurs. “whatever, whatever. let what happens happen, and if it’s bad i’ll just…internally die.”

resolute, keiji puts his pen to the page and starts writing before the ink can bleed.

hi.

i’ve written drafts of this too many times already. maybe i shouldn’t tell you that so it seems like i’m a natural romantic, but it probably doesn’t surprise you that i’ve crumpled up a lot of paper in the last couple of hours because i tried avoiding being too cliché. but if i’m being honest i love you so much it feels like a cliché in and of itself. so i guess i’ll just lean into it and write whatever comes to mind.

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you.

i love waking up to you every morning. i love cooking breakfast with you. i love wearing the “kiss the chef” apron kuroo gave us so i have an excuse to ask for a kiss on the cheek, even though i know you’d kiss me without it.

i love listening to you talk about your day and seeing the photos you took with friends. i love when you send me pictures while you’re out and ask what i think about your outfit. sorry i’m bad at knowing what to say, i’m really not lying when i say i think you always look nice. i know that isn’t super helpful when you’re being indecisive, but i hope i’ve gotten better over the years? i feel like i have but if you want to disagree i guess i’ll accept since it’s your birthday.

i love when you ask if i want to go out somewhere with you. i love sending you places and things i think you’ll enjoy. i love seeing how excited you get and i love surprising you with them a few weeks later. i love seeing our gifts for each other and souvenirs around the apartment every day i come home.

i love taking care of you, even when you think i shouldn’t, when you think you’re a burden for me. i’ll do the chores when you’re tired. i’ll get in the bath with you and wash and dry you, no matter how long it takes. i’ll dress you if you ask me to, let you steal my bracelets and slippers when you want them. i’ll make sure the bed is cold but the blanket is warm so you can cuddle beside me. i love being the person you come home to, and i hope i make it worthwhile every time.

you’ve always been there to remind me you love me, even when i think you shouldn’t, that it’s impossible that you do. so i hope you know i feel the same way about you, that i’ll love you despite what your head might say, and even if the world would end because of it.

i love being with you. even after a decade together, i only love you more and more.

and i do need you like oxygen. i need you like plants need the sun. you’re my favourite person, you’re my safe place, you’re my home. you’re my better half and your own person that just happens to fit with me. you’re my soulmate and also someone i was just lucky enough to meet. you fit every possible cliché and trope i can think of. every single one is true, which makes me think maybe you’re the kind of person old poets and writers were inspired by. they’re not around though, so i hope i can be enough.

happy birthday :) i’d say i hope we only get to spend more together, but at this point you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. (please don’t try though i’ll cry.) so instead, i hope every birthday is as warm and bright as you. i hope you remember i’m here with you, and always will be. every midnight you get a little older, all the way until the end. as cliché as all of this might sound, i love you forever,

keiji writes your name especially careful, making sure it sits perfectly on the line and each pen stroke is clean. then he draws a little heart beside you before signing off with his own name, and letting out a deep breath. his fingers tremble a little when he finally puts the pen down.

there’s blue ink on his hand, and he thinks there might be some on his temple from forgetting to unclick his pen. but it’s a problem for nightly routine keiji to wash off, not him now.

the letter would sit in a gift bag for another week, but then it would be in your hands. it wasn’t proofread—he could have spelt his own name wrong at the end and no one would know until then. but he can’t bring himself to reread it this time. maybe because he’s tired or doesn’t want to feel cheesy, maybe so it feels more romantic, more raw. maybe because at the end of the day, whether you loved the letter so much you framed it on your bedroom wall, or you accidentally spilled water and rendered every word illegible, he’d have you anyway. and you’d have him.

and he’d just write another one, once again filled with clichés and an embarrassing amount of i love you’s, as long as you’d let him.

pleak pretend this letter really is for u. it's half of this post come onnn it's for u now. happy birthday! i love u i love u i love u i love u (4 so it isn't a cliche) mwah

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #i really did forget i had this. i wrote it like. 2 months ago #i was supposed to post it then too but i thought it was too boring and cheesy which is kind of ironic isnt it. #happy birthday from me/akaashi 2 u. read this on ur birthday. pleak

[multifandoms4]

Friend of a Friend

Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

Word count: 900+

You and Charles have been friends since you were little and grew up together. He was at your place watching a movie when he asked "Would you like to come with me to my races this season?" "I would love to Cha, but I don't have the money to cover the expenses." You told him. "I will cover the expenses and you will just travel with me and my team as my special guest." It shocked you that he was willing to do that. "If you're sure about it, why not. I would love to!" You told him.

That is how you ended up in this situation. You were currently sitting around watching the drivers play paddle ball with each other. Although you were mainly focused on one person there. You and Carlos had gotten close since you were around him a lot and became very good friends. Only the thing is you started to gain feelings for the man. He and Charles were playing against Lando and Oscar right now while some of the other drivers were sitting with you.

Max waved his hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Are you even paying attention right now?" He asked and laughed when your face went red. "I was paying attention." You said and Lewis said, "Yeah at Carlos." Everyone started laughing at you as your face went beet red. You glared at them playfully before joining back into the conversation. What you didn't realize was Carlos was staring right at you as you talked to Lewis and Max.

Charles laughed at Carlos looking jealous of you talking to Lewis and Max. "Just ask her out already man," Charles told Carlos as they played paddle ball. "She likes you too but she won't tell you that." Carlos looked at him surprised and completely missed the ball, meaning Lando and Oscar won. You looked over to see Lando and Oscar cheering and laughed at them. The four of them walked back over. "We won!" Lando cheered. "Probably the only win you'll have." You joked at him making everyone laugh including him. "That was good." He told you.

After a while, everyone split off to do their own thing and you hung out with Charles and Carlos at the hotel. They wanted to relax and watch some movies before everything got crazy for the weekend. You were sitting on the couch between Charles and Carlos. You were leaning against Charles and had your legs across Carlos' lap. He placed his hands on your legs and started to rub small circles. You were having a hard time paying attention to the movie and kept staring at where his hands were. "Pay attention to the movie cariño." He whispered to you and you realized he caught you staring.

You jumped when you heard a phone ring and realized it was Charles' phone. He answered that phone then all he said was "I have to go, I'll be back later." Then he rushed out the door. You looked at Carlos with a questioning look and he just shrugged his shoulders. The movie continued to play and eventually, you and Carlos started talking, no longer interested in the movie. As the hour progressed, you became more sleepy and fell asleep on Carlos. He carefully shifted around and cuddled with you on the couch drifting off to sleep.

~The Next Morning~

You woke up to Lando letting out a shriek. You buried yourself further into Carlos trying to go back to sleep. Once you realized what was going on, you popped your head up and looked at Carlos with wide eyes. He gave you a smirk and a wink. "Lando shut up before I hurt you." He glared at him. Lando laughed, "I'm just happy you finally made a move."

That statement shocked you even further and you continued to stare at Carlos. "You like me?" You asked him quietly trying to process it. "Yes, I do cariño. Why do you think Charles left last night like he did?" He laughed and you realized it was a setup. He pulled you back into him as you cuddled back up and started to feel yourself relax again. Charles had taken pictures when he walked in with Lando and sent them to you and Carlos.

Carlos had his arms around you and your legs intertwined while your face was buried into his neck. Carlos showed you the picture and you smiled. "Normally I hate Cha for meddling in my personal life but I'm glad he did this time." You told him. "Me too," Carlos responded. "How about I take you out for dinner tonight?" He asked you and you smiled and said, "I would love to."

You started at each other for a minute before he closed the gap and kissed you. It was a small, sweet kiss and it had you blushing furiously. Eventually, you got ready for the day because Carlos and Charles had some interviews to attend and you were tagging along. Dinner that night went well and Carlos asked you to officially be his girlfriend.

~The Day of the Race~

You walked in with Charles and Carlos like normal, except you were holding Carlos' hand. Everyone gave you two knowing looks and smiled at you. You smiled up at Carlos and he smiled back at you. Charles made a fake gagging sound and it made you laugh. "You're just upset because you're single and lonely." You teased him. Traveling with Charles didn't turn out the way you expected it to but you wouldn't change anything about it.

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 #f1 x reader #carlos sainz #f1 imagine #formula 1

[effeminate-wastrel]

Something fucking weird happened to me yesterday. A few fucking weird somethings in fact.

I was at a premiere party for a local comedian's special, maybe like 25-30 people in a little art commune backyard space, kinda place with a bunch of art sculptures and free ranging cats and a fun vibey vibe.

This comedian is one of those kinda 'i'm not a terf i just think maybe trans people could tone it down a little' lesbians who i first met through a trans comic friend (who no longer speaks with this comedian over some apparently terfy views) so i'm kinda already on red alert. But there's a few other trans girls there and generally I don't think this comedian is like hateful or even terfy i think she's just kinda catring to a certain demographic of queer people that aren't as progressive or whatever.

not my particular FAVORITE crowd of people or ideology but I'm interested in hearing and hanging out with reasonable people whose views are different than mine, assuming they are pleasant and not disrespectful, yknow, so i went into the party with an open mind.

i was being a social lil butterfly as i'm wont to do and i met this big burly beardy kinda guy, he seems chill, nice enough. Later in the party after a bit of weed and drinks have been slung, he comes up to me and asks if I can help him get some drugs. He asks if I have any Clomid. I haven't ever heard of it, I look it up and he explains it's a fertility drug for cis or trans women, he described it as an estrogen blocker and i guess it makes ovaries OR testicles more fertile if a trans woman has undergone HRT, I guess.

I'm a little dumbfounded and trying to figure out what the hell is going on, why this random dude is asking me for meds i know nothing about, and i'm desperately trying to figure out the context of this request. I'm making him a little uncomfortable with my questions, trying to figure out if this is a trans man, closeted trans woman, detransitioned trans woman, or i dont even know what, and i ask for a little bit of clarity.

he offers up, "well... i was a boy who got raped and spent some time where i thought i was a woman but now i'm on testosterone again and trying to have a baby" and i'm like... okay detransitioned trans woman i guess, and i'm like yeah sorry i have no idea if i can find anyone who could get these meds for you. I asked him why he was asking me and he said "[comedian's name but ALSO his partner's name, so i don't know which person he's referring to] said you were a safe person to talk to about this. Conversation basically ended there and i walked away from it thinking it was extremely strange, not knowing how to process any of what just happened.

Then later i meet another person who's detransitioned, she was 'being a guy' for a while then kinda ended up not resonating with it and is presenting femme again.

the party just kinda started closing in on me at that point, just started feeling like more people there might be detrans, is this the audience of people, is this the vibe of the party, did the comedian mean something else when i made a joke earlier to her along the lines of "yeah looking bad is so hot right now" (just lightly roasting gen z type style and all that stuff which isn't my vibe obvi) and she said "yeahhh you couldn't be more right" in a kind of way that i could have interpreted as being in reference to ME if she was saying something along the lines of 'you ugly man in a dress' if she IS a closeted terf orrrrrrrr

idk. so much of this is spiraling based on a weird experience and also RSD that goes haywire in situations where my transness has even a 10% chance of being related. but also like. maybe my intuition should be trusted and it really was a bad situation? i just wish i had some neutral way to find out what the hell was going on but it feels so fraught

[moonroses-restuff]

Stay A Little Longer - Bi-Han x Reader

A/N- this was highly enspired by the recent new ep from the Apothecary Diaries. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: sad Bi-Han, not proof read lol. Sfw

You were on the roof, staring at moon light and stars, drinking some alcohol after such a stressful day. Your body was aching from all that unnecessary training with Bi-Han. You couldn’t help but wondered what was going on with him. He was much rougher than usual during training. Much angrier. Almost like he didn’t care if he hurt you.

It scared you. Luckily, Kuai Liang was there to stop his older brother to cause you any harm. You sighed as you drank up the last bit of the alcohol before you head back down and return to your room. You packed up your things and headed to the area where you climbed up.

Step by step, you carefully climbed down. Only until you were jumped by surprise from a sudden voice.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

You gasped and lost your footing and fell down. You groaned in pain, “Damn, who was that? You startled me.”

“My bad.” You turned around to see who the hell scared you and made you lost your footing when you gasped to see Bi-Han.

“Bi-Han! Why are you here?” You asked.

“I should be the one asking you the same question.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get up then.” You were ready to get up and get away from since he’s been in such a bad mood already since training that you didn’t want to cause anymore problems for you and for him. But suddenly, his big arms wrapped around you from behind, preventing you from leaving.

Your heart skipped a beat, “Could you let go of me?” You said, but he didn’t listen as he pulled you back down and sat you down.

“Don’t wanna. It’s too cold for you.” He mumbled, resting his forehead against your back.

You scoffed, “Ironic since you’re the one with ice powers.”

He groaned, “You’re the one without a jacket at this time of the night.”

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t know whether he was joking or not. But you didn’t want to further question him. But that’s when you nose caught this stretch form him.

Is he drunk?

“Are you drunk?” You asked, turning your head to face him. You took a good closer look and you can tell that his cheeks were pink and his eyes were red.

“Can’t help it since Kuai Liang and Tomas were there.” He sighed, burying his face more into your back.

“I see…”

“They both invited me for a drink. Once the booze were out, I filled myself with alcohol until I passed out. Once I’ve woken up, I endured a headache and wanted some fresh air until I saw you climbing down.” Bi-Han explained the details which surprised you. He wasn’t the type of person to be social with anyone. This was probably the longest conversation you ever had with him.

Come to think of it. You did notice how he gobbled alcohol for the past weeks now. You didn’t say anything since his outburst were out of control and didn’t want to bother him. Even, Kuai Liang and Tomas were distant threw out the days. You haven’t been here long enough to know what was really going on. Then again, you didn’t want to interfere with their buisness in the Lin Kuei.

But that doesn’t relate to this situation where you are trapped with his arms around you. You tried to break free from his grip but no matter what you do. He still wouldn’t budge. You didn’t want to be put up with a clingy drunk.

Then something hit you. You technically did fell on top of him, even though he was the one that startled you and he did catch you. It was probably rude of you to not even say thank you to him. Or else, he’ll have your head off by now.

It wouldn’t hurt to say thank you. You turned your head slightly about to say something when you felt something wet dropping on your bare neck. Your eyes widened and turned back to face him only to see tears dropping from his closed eyes. Your heart beats. Bi-Han pulled you closer as much as he can while you stayed quiet.

“Stay a little longer,” he whispered, “Just keep me warm. Just a little longer. Please.”

He pleaded. He sounded so vulnerable and you don’t know why. You took this opportunity to ask him a question.

“Bi-Han,” your soft voice got his attention, “What is wrong?”

He didn’t say a word and you understood. The two of you sat like this for hours. In silent. You can hear his breathing increased as you felt more tears falling. You never seen him like this. You didn’t know how to react or do for him. You breathed out from your nose and relaxed your body as you leaned back, holding his hand in comfort.

Bi-Han wanted to tell you his vulnerability. But he wasn’t ready to open up. No matter how much he wants to tell you about the pain he is facing. He couldn’t. But sitting here with you and having his arm around you was close on being comfortable. The warmth of your body made him ease up a bit. For that, he’ll thank you for this moment one day.

Perhaps one day, he’ll open up to you about his mother’s death anniversary that he drank himself up for the past weeks. But for now, he just wants to enjoy this night with you and not bother you with his issues.

A/n- need more vulnerable Bi-Han. This is my first time writing in a while. Ignores some Grammars lol

#bi han sub zero #bi-han mk1 #bihan #mk sub zero #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #bihan x reader #bi han x you #bi han

[eijirousbestie]

“I’m done talkin”

inspired by the song below (i recommend listening while reading

pure angst sry not sry

unresolved anger issues

no happy ending

“Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it at least?”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“With what happened out there just now? There is definitely something to talk about.”

A long silence fills the air. It’s hard and steely, unwilling to waiver or break. It felt like all the progress you two had made was ripped away in less than a second.

“I don’t wanna push but I need us to be on the same page here yeah? It’s harder to figure this out when it’s just—never mind.”

“‘When it’s just’ what?” When it’s just me trying is what you wanted to say but decided better against it. His eyes settle on you, the gaze pointed, almost accusatory. You don’t want to antagonize him and potentially make the situation worse because of your poor word choice. But it’s hard. Hard to walk on eggshells around someone just to stay in good graces.

“It’s nothing. I misspoke.”

“Here we go with that shit.”

What does he mean?

“What do you mean?” A beat passes and he’s speaking again, although reluctantly.

“Would you drop the psychiatrist bullshit? Actin’ like you know every fuckin’ thing when you don’t know shit about me.”

Where is this coming from? You try not to get emotional. It’ll only get in the way of finding a fix to… whatever this is.

“Katsuki, if you felt that I was overstepping I’m sorry. But I’m just trying to better understand what’s got you lashing out like this.”

“Don’t talk down to me like I’m a fuckin’ kid. Just say what you wanna say straight up. We both know you don’t talk like that.” His jaw is clenched hard, the muscles on the sides of his face flexing and constricting every few moments.

He’s entirely pissed off right now. But it’s almost an unadulterated rage you hadn’t seen on him since he was fifteen. All these years he’d done better, been better. He’d calmed down and grown to let out his frustrations on a punching bag instead of an actual person. You’d been there by his side along the way, but he’d mainly made the change himself. He pushed himself to be better, to be less angry at the world and all that resided it.

But today is different. And you’re not sure why.

“Can you at least tell me what’s got you pissed?” You’re not really sure what to say. It’s like walking on a mine field. One wrong step and it’s all over.

A short, exasperated chuckle leaves the lips of the man in front of you. Seated on the edge of his bed, forearms propped up on his thighs with his head hanging low, messy tufts of blonde shaking slightly as his body trembles with his laughter. It’s mocking.

“You.” His eyes flicked up to yours, the ghost of a sarcastic smile still gracing his face, like he couldn’t believe you’d asked him such a dumb question with such an obvious answer.

Your heart sinks. “Me?”

“Did I stutter?” His tone switches. No longer mocking, but now all too serious. Like he’s physically biting his tongue to not tear down your entire character.

“Why am I—why do you have an issue with me?���

His eyes narrow, embers flickering behind his lashes. His hands ball up together in front of him in a tight grasp. Like he’s trying to keep himself together.

“Cuz—you piss me off. You agitate me.”

“Katsuki I—”

“Don’t talk over me.” Silence.

“You do that thing where you try to ‘get down on my level’ like I’m somethin’ that needs to be studied. You talk like you know everything I don’t already know about myself. Shit’s infuriating. You always gotta make me talk after I get upset about anythin’. Every. Fucking. Time.”

His jaw is set and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“And I’m sick of that shit. What if I don’t wanna talk about how I feel after every situation huh? It comes easy to you. You’re good at that shit. Expressin’ your emotions. M’not. I just—close up.”

It hurts your heart to hear how he’s been struggling this entire time. On the outside it’d seemed like he was opening up and getting in touch with his emotions. But maybe, that’s only what he wanted you to see. Or maybe, you were looking through rose tinted glasses throughout the last four years. Your eyes fall to the floor under your feet, trying to find the right words to say. But nothing. How can words do justice to how much guilt you feel for overlooking what he was really harboring all by himself? It hurts.

“Katsuki… I didn’t know…” It’s as if no explanation was good enough.

“Save the dramatics for somebody that gives a shit. I’m over it.”

“No, there’s no way you could be—”

“I said I’m over it. I’m deading the shit. I’m not dealin’ with it no more. I’m done talkin’.”

The feeling that sits heavy in your stomach is uncomfortable. It’s unnerving. Never once has an issue with one another not been resolved, but he doesn’t even want to try. You can’t help but to respect his choice and give him his space.

But something tells you that you might not be able to come back from this. You nod and let out an okay in response, your voice barely above a whisper. You walk to his door, placing your hand on the doorknob and freeze.

“I know it’s a fucked place to be in right now but I’m always gonna be here for you. I’m not walking out on you Kats.” More silence fills the room. Nothing comes from him. Not even a grunt or a nod. You twist the knob and leave his room with a heavy heart and a heavy mind.

#sometimes small things build up #bakugou katsuki #Spotify #mha headcanons #bakugou headcanons #mha drabbles #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bakugou angst #mha angst

[ode-to-spring]

♡⋆.ೃ࿔* WORRIES WASHED AWAY ~

diluc is worried when you come home late from an expedition, you do all you can to comfort him

ੈ♡˳ diluc x reader (romantic ♡)

ੈ♡˳ category :: kind of hurt/comfort?? diluc is worried and gets comforted does that count, established relationship !

ੈ♡˳ warnings :: again hurt/comfort, diluc assumes the worst happens but nothing rlly graphic is described, everything is fine in the end

ੈ♡˳ a/n :: written instead of my algebra homework

"where have you been?"

diluc's worried voice nearly echoed throughout the halls of the dawn winery. other than him, the whole mansion was devoid of any sign of life-- the maids and butlers had already finished their duties and gone home, the place tidy and clean for the night. from where you stood at the large doorstep, you could see a flame crackling in the fireplace, the embers burning brightly as if they've been newly re-lit. and finally, a shadow traveled through the wooden floors of the mansion, it's owner hurriedly making his way to your direction.

in an instant, you felt yourself held by the shoulders, worried eyes piercing into yours before scanning every part of you for injuries. "do you have any idea what time is it? theres a storm outside, not a star in the sky-- the knights promised you'd all be back by sunset, are you hurt? did something happen?"

"diluc, i'm fine," you started, cutting off his concerned mantra. "the rain slowed our travel, but we didn't run into any problems," you swiftly shook yourself from his near iron grip, putting some distance between yourself and his flood of questions.

you told the truth, of course. you went on a quick expedition with a few knights of favonious to the neighboring nation of liyue, and the turbulent weather made the trip longer than intended. your proof was the drenched coat dripping rainwater all over the hardwood floors under you, but diluc didn't didnt seem to buy it.

"but still, are you sure you aren't injured? i should never have let you go without me, what if you got ambushed? the bandits in liyue are especially known for being notorious, you could've gotten separated from the rest of the knights, and--"

before he even realized what was going on, diluc's troubled monologue was interrupted by a pair of lips on his. the kiss was soft, passionate, as if pouring everything you wanted to say without uttering a word. it served as your personal way of reminding him that you were right there, you were together, and you were okay.

for a moment or two after he simply stared at you in surprise, then relief, then affection. he held complete disregard for your sopping wet clothes when he suddenly held you in a tight embrace without breaking your kiss. you could feel his hot breath intermingling with yours, as if he was trying to calm himself down for you.

due to numerous less than happy experiences in his life, it was no surprise that he'd expect the worst in every situation-- especially those that involved your safety. he had enough trust in you to know that you can handle yourself well enough, even personally helping you with knight training (despite his initial distaste for your chosen occupation, but he'd support you anywhere you went nonetheless), but he could never stop his own mind from drifting off to the darkest places. he held onto you tightly to ground himself, remind him that you were right there in his arms, just like you promised you'd always be.

absentmindedly, your slightly wet fingers started carding through his fiery red hair. you found it comforting, in a way, and it helped both of you stay in the moment. an unspoken promise was interlaced within what otherwise was loving affection: no matter how long it'd take, no matter where either of you went, you'd always find a home in each other to come back to. and just like that, soaking wet at the doorstep of the dawn winery, you stayed for several moments-- a comfortable silence enveloping the both of you, as if flooding out all the feelings neither of you could put into words.

"i'll always come home to you."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader #diluc x you #oh my god how do i even tag this #genshin diluc x you fluff #diluc x reader angst #diluc hurt/comfort #genshin impact diluc hurt/comfort #genshin impact diluc x you fluff #genshin impact hurt/comfort #genshin diluc hurt/comfort #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin diluc x reader fluff #genshin impact diluc x reader fluff #`「❁」 flower.arrangements ❞ #`「❁」 arrangement.bouquets ❞

[gaysindistress]

Van Helsing Retold - five

pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: cursing, angst, this one is pretty mild

Word count: 2.5k

four | series masterlist

Tag list: @vonalyn @cakesandtom @nerdytif @teambarnes72

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

“I think I know where they are.”

John’s eyes immediately pierce the shaking hunter and he narrows them when the hunter doesn’t elaborate.

“David didn’t tell you that Helmut was found with his heart ripped out,” the hunter stumbles over his words as John pushes to his feet, “neither of them could’ve done that. It had…”

“Another vamp,” John finishes his sentence, “who?”

“I’m waiting for confirmation but I think it was either Natasha Romanoff or James Barnes. I have scouts out looking for both as well as searching any known safehouses as we speak. I should know within the hour.”

John circles the man and hums along, “and why did you come to me now? Why didn’t you wait for confirmation?”

The hunter tenses as John comes to stand directly behind him, “I’ll need a team ready to go once I get word. I thought it would be better to get your approval.”

There’s a beat of silence and the hunter silently prays to every god known to man that he made the right decision.

“My team will be ready in 30 minutes.”

“Your team?”

John circles around to face the man, “I will be the one to get her back and put a bullet in the blood sucker that took her.”

There’s an odd look in Bucky’s eye when he looks at me but he always looks away too quickly when I catch him. I want to question him about it however the pressing reality of our situation keeps me from doing it.

When I awoke with a hoarse throat and aching eyes, Sam almost immediately came in to tell me that we would be going before Steve and his guard in two nights to plead my innocence. I tried to tell him that doing that was the worst plan possible considering my hand was still an issue. He gave me an empathic look before shaking it away and telling me that Bucky was going to fix it before we left.

The memory of last night and my conversation…maybe a dream… with Bucky last night came flooding back. All I could remember is that he’d told me that he was going to go through with giving me his blood but there’s a block after that. It’s frustrating not having full access to your own memories but then again, I don’t know what’s beyond this stone wall.

All I could remember is since we were mates, he would heal me.

He would die more than likely as a result of the bond between us being cut off but I would be healed.

I wouldn’t be a vampire.

I would be okay again.

My hand pulses and throbs as I tear my burning eyes from the wall. I must have been staring at it. I’ve been doing that a lot; staring at walls, staring at my hand, staring at Bucky.

Bucky.

Bucky.

There’s a knock on my door and the person waits for me to answer. I already know it’s him, having been able to feel our bond growing warmer when he’s near. I’m getting better at deciphering what it’s telling me, although it seems like it’s not going to matter much longer.

“Give a second,” I tell him as I clamber off the bed and throw on my coat and boots. He’s more than likely going to tell me that we need to leave so I might as well be ready.

I open the door and he nearly falls into me. He must have been leaning against it and he quickly catches himself on the frame.

“Are you re…” the words die on his tongue, “we’re leaving.”

“Sam said you were going to fix this,” I say as I wave my hand around, “before we left.”

He stares down at me for a moment before snapping at me, “before we get there, that’s what I said.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” I scoff at him as I push past and march down the hallway.

He mumbles something and I know for damn sure he didn’t say what I think he just did, “come again?”

Harsh blue eyes pierce me as he prowls down the hall towards me. The bond pounds deep inside me, so loud that it drowns out the sound of my heart and for half a second, I forget that I even have one. I can’t hear his, he doesn’t have one but something tells me that the pounding bond is very much a surrogate for his still one.

His boots make solid hits to the floor and it everything is muffled expect for the bond. It all sounds like my head is being held under water as he comes to stand only a foot away from me. It’s not close enough.

He needs to be closer.

He needs to be touching me.

He needs to be against me.

“I said you’re my problem.”

My jaw drops but a gasp doesn’t fall out like it normally would. The air has been stolen from my lungs due to sheer shock.

“I’m the problem? Me? I’m the fucking problem?” I sneer at him, taking a step closer as he takes one step back, “You’re the one who gave me a massive concussion, killed Helmut, and then dragged me to some safehouse and for what? Because of some bullshit bond that connects us? Because you believe that fate has chosen us to be mates? Because you think that I have feelings for you? All I feel towards you is a the burden of our bond and I can’t wait to get rid of it the moment that you stop my turning and can fucking leave me alone.”

My chest is raising and falling rapidly as I seethe with anger but there’s something wet falling down my face. Tears, I realize are flowing from my eyes however once again, I don’t know why. I have no reason to cry. I have no reason to care that the connection that is thrashing around inside of me like a starving animal locked in a cage. I have no reason to care about him and whatever reason that I might find is locked away behind that stone wall inside my mind.

“If you’re so eager to get rid of me, here,” he shoves a vial filled with a dark liquid towards me, “don’t drink it until after I meet with Steve. It won’t be a good look for you if I drop dead while trying to convince him that you didn’t kill his mate.”

I turn the vial over in my hand while he deliberately avoids me as he stalks away. It’s his blood, I realize, the anti venom and the cure that would stop my turning. He gave it to me. He just gave it to me. In training, we’d been taught that there was an anti venom but the how was always a mystery. No one really gave an answer as to why we weren’t taught about how the process worked but it was implied that if we didn’t have a way out, then our only option was to not get infected. A part of me thought that the vampire needed to be present but if Helmut had a vial of Peggy’s blood, then clearly she didn’t need to even be alive.

Maybe beyond that mental block lies a girl that wants Bucky to be with me when I take the anti venom. She wants him to be there to guide her through the steps and hold her through the agony that will undoubtedly come. She wants him to be there so when he feels that breaking, that severing of their bond, she can provide him with the same comfort. She needs to be there when his body can’t handle the bone crushing effects of their disconnect, when his heart stills even more than it already has and it shatters. She needs to be there when the warmth that usually lives inside of them both dies out and it freezes him. She needs to be there when he takes his last breath.

But she won’t.

I won’t be there because I don’t care.

Seeing images of a target is completely different than when you see the subject in person. Steve is a truly menacing presence with his larger than human body and blood thirsty look to his pale eyes. They’re similar to Bucky’s in their coloring but they’re soulless. There is nothing beyond the need to consume all those who have a pulse in the room. Bucky’s hold a certain humanity that I hadn’t seen in a vampire before; there is warmth, kindness, sadness, admiration…love in his eyes.

Steve’s heavy stare is on me the second I walk into what appears to be his office. I’m placed between Sam and Bucky as we approach the lounging leader of vampires but he straightens when we stop a few yards from him. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit with only a simple white shirt under and a gold pendant decorates his neck. A short grey speckled beard has grown over his jaw, giving the impression that he’s aging. I know better than that though and I keep my eyes trained on him. He’s toying with a gold pinkie ring as he watches us.

Bucky steps ahead of us and my hand twitches to reach out for him. I shove both into my jacket pockets to stop myself. Sam is watching me from the corner of his eye and I glance at him, flashing a small smile to show him that I’m perfectly fine. The two vampires are speaking in hushed voices and the only indication that it might be a tense conversation are the looks that Steve is throwing at me over Bucky’s shoulder.

“John was the one who killed my mate?” his baritone voice rings out through the silence as he eyes me, “and you brought her here for what? To prove it?”

“She was with her mentor, Sam Wilson when the attack happened. Her Guild Master was unaccounted for,” Bucky offers.

Steve shoots a searing look to him before dragging his gaze back to me, “How many have access to your room?”

I scoff, “excuse me?”

The vampire rolls his eyes, “Whore or not, you should know better than give access to your room to anyone.”

Bucky tenses and so does our bond.

“No one,” I grind out between clenched teeth, “Not even Sam is allowed in without permission.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and turns ever so slightly to Bucky before speaking to me, “So only you have access to your stakes then?”

“Well yes…” I trail off for a moment, remembering what Bucky coached me to say, “but all Guild members are required to give the Guild master access to our rooms so it’s possible for someone to take some of my stakes.”

“But you don’t know for certain?”

“I’m not exactly back in my room, now am I?” I snap back before I can stop it and Steve lets out a monstrous laugh.

“So you want me to believe that the Guild master stole one of your stakes and killed my mate, the woman who murdered your mother? Did I get that right?”

Bucky goes to speak but Steve silences him with a hand, “I want to hear her.”

“There are a lot of vampires that claim to have killed my mom, I tend to not believe every one that I hear,” I shrug, not daring to look away from Steve, “as for John, he’s always been threatened by my Van Helsing name and has thrown me to the wolves too many times to count. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and frame me for this; it would definitely mean my death and get rid of me for good.”

Steve makes a low hum in his throat, “And if I were to ask your Guild master himself, what would he say?”

Sam and I both stiffen, a mistake that he catches and smiles at. He snaps and two vampires emerge through the door, dragging a bloody human behind them. The blonde man dropped unceremoniously on the ground and he does nothing to help himself as he falls flat onto the ground. The groan and following curses that fall from his busted lips are all too familiar.

Goddamnit.

John weakly pushes himself up onto his knees and falls back onto his haunches with his hands resting atop his thighs. The moment he lays his eyes on Sam and I, they fill with a stormy force that threatens to unleash itself onto us.

This isn’t going to be good for us.

“Asking him is useless,” I quickly say, taking a step forward, “someone could persuade him to say whatever they wanted.”

“Same could be said for you,” Steve shoots back, “maybe I should just kill the both of you and solve all of my problems. wouldn’t it?”

“Killing us both might satisfy you now but in the long run, the thought of never knowing who did it would gnaw at you. Wouldn’t you rather get justified revenge on the one that took your mate?” I know I’m pushing my luck as I try to manipulate him. He’s watching me intently as I slowly approach him and we’re both aware of what I’m doing but he lets me. Bucky is frozen at his side and refuses to look at me. He keeps his gaze on Steve and only lets it flicker to John if he makes a noise. We all learned just how observant Steve is seconds ago.

“Who are you to speak about mates?” Steve snarls.

Shit that was the wrong move, I’ve pissed him off now. I raise my hands in surrender, “I meant no harm. I only meant to show my understanding and empathy. Humans can’t have mates but it’s love all the same. While I can’t understand what it’s like to lose your mate, I can understand what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

Steve’s snarl turns into yet another smile while confusion whirls inside of me. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that wasn’t there before. What does he know that I don’t?

He can’t possibly know that my mom didn’t die that night.

Or that I do have a mate, right?

“Our bond is more than your fickle human love, Van Helsing. You of all people should know that your emotions are subject to change the moment the wind changes direction.”

The fuck does that mean?

The door pushes open again behind us and another human stumbles through. This time it’s a woman. She too is bloody and dropped as if she’s trash to the floor. She doesn’t push herself up as quickly as John did but I’m guessing it’s because she’s older. Grey hairs streak her dark hair that’s wild and unkept although it’s braided back. Barely lifting herself up, her face is swollen and covered in blood but there’s a familiarity beneath it all.

“Mom?” I hear myself gasp out as she locks eyes with me

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #van helsing retold bucky #van helsing retold bucky barnes #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire bucky barnes #vampire au #vampire #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel

[beauty-and-passion]

No pressure as always, but I’m curious if you saw Thomas’ Year in Review. He talks a lot about his struggles with Sanders Sides and why the creative process has taken so long (at least, he gives his own take on the situation.)

If you saw it, I’m very curious about your thoughts! Because I honestly don’t believe that this video discredits any criticism, especially your criticism, but I’m curious if any of your opinions changed after watching it regardless. And no judgement either way, I just love hearing your thoughts ^.^

My dear, it's always a pleasure to reply to your asks! It might take me some time, but in the end, the answer will always come.

Thank you very much for telling me about the video because, if it wasn't for you, I would've probably never watched it and missed out a lot. Extra kudos for that.

So I watched it. And I read your post about it too (HERE because more people need to read it): it was very well made and I agree with you wholeheartedly.

However, I also took a lot of notes while watching Mr Sanders' video and there are a lot of other things I want to say in addition to the ones you already said. So I will gladly expand my thoughts and feelings here.

(It might be longer than expected, so I'll put it under a "read more")

Accepting criticism

Thomas admitted he easily internalizes negative criticism

He said that people are allowed to write everything/to criticize and that he doesn't want others to get mad over SaSi criticism

First of all, I am proud of him for showing this self-awareness. From what I saw of him, Thomas looks like a very prideful person, so it probably took him a lot of time and courage to admit his faulty behaviour.

But in the end, he did it. He showed some of the maturity I've always wanted to see coming from him and he deserves recognition for that: good job, Thomas. I know it wasn't easy because it sucks to admit we're not good at something, but it was a great proof of adulthood coming from you.

However, I would like to point out that he doesn't internalize just negative criticism. What the ts critics noticed (and you can find several proofs in the #ts_criticism tag), is that Thomas tends to reply with a lot of passive-aggressiveness not just to people offending him, but also to simple and harmless questions like "Hey, where is the SaSi finale?". Which are not negative, not criticism and even less negative criticism.

So it's not that he just internalizes bad criticism: he internalizes every single question regarding the SaSi finale which is not a compliment towards him or a "take your time, bro". And he internalizes it as something bad, which is not great, nor fair.

With this video, he took a step in the right direction and showed some self-awareness, which is very good. But now he needs to learn how to distinguish between different kinds of criticism - as well as recognizing that asking him questions isn’t criticism. It’s just asking questions.

(I also hope that some people won’t follow his mentality of “saying anything that isn’t a compliment = criticism”, because this can lead to a dangerous, distorted vision of the world.)

And since we’re talking about criticism, I wish that by saying "please do not get angry over criticism" Thomas finally put an end to the stupid idea that “people are not allowed to criticize”.

I know some people don't like to hear this, but criticism is inherent to the nature of every single work. Everything that exists in this world is allowed to be criticized. Heck, it's exactly because these creations are criticized, that they exist. Do you know what work isn't criticized? The one people don't talk about.

And no, despite what the opposers of criticism think, when people criticize something it's not because they hate the product: it's because they care a lot about said product. It's because they saw something good in it and they're disappointed the product wasn't as good as it promised. It's because they are so invested, that every mistake frustrates them.

In the end, it's not criticism that kills a product: it's indifference. It's not talking about it anymore. When you don't care, the product is dead.

So the opponents of criticism should be happy people are talking about SaSi with such passion, throwing ideas, suggestions and calling Thomas out. It's because, despite the empty promises, they still give a fuck about this project and want to see it succeed.

Maybe, thanks to Thomas' works, more people will not ban every criticism as "bad" Because Yes. Heck, they might even read a couple of posts and find out that the criticism tag isn't made of hateful people: just of people who care like them.

And maybe this will also discourage pathetic losers like the anon @softestvirgil mentioned in their last post. An anon who is so strong and brave, to say they would hire a hitman to kill another person just because they criticize something the anon likes. Very mature, very clever and very bold, coming from a coward who doesn't even have the balls to show their face, while saying this.

_______________________

The difficulty of writing

Thomas said he got overwhelmed by the public's reaction to SaSi "in the most wonderful and intimidating way"

When Joan left, Thomas felt the overwhelming weight of the series all on himself. He couldn't see himself doing SaSi without Joan

Roleslaying was a breath of fresh air, since it was a series with no stakes

Thomas realized he was doing his best with videos that didn't require him to write

Thomas said there have been moments when he despised everything he was writing. He spent whole days on a single interaction between two characters, only to hate everything and wonder how Joan would write them/what the viewers would think.

As always, I am a prophet. What did I say in these last years?

Thomas doesn't know how to handle this series? He admitted he couldn't see himself doing it without Joan.

Thomas prefers Roleslaying and shorter, more carefree videos because they're easier and they don't require him to write? He admitted he did his best with videos that didn't require him to write.

Thomas isn't able to write the series? He had struggles and hated what he was writing.

So, what was the result, if not Thomas postponing and focusing on other projects - thus ending up with characterization errors, mistakes and things he completely forgot? Just like I said?

But even if I'm right, I am glad Thomas FINALLY talked about it. One thing is deduce what's going on, one thing is the author himself admitting it.

So yes, I really, really appreciate him doing it. Again, it was probably very hard for him to say it out loud, but he did and deserves recognition for that.

I particularly felt for him, when he said he spent days on a single interaction, only to hate everything he was writing. I empathize with him a lot because that's exactly what I felt while writing the prologue of my story, multiple times. I spent days writing the same two paragraphs, over and over, trying to find the right way to do it, the right rhythm, the right words. And I ended up deleting everything, only to start again and try again and delete everything again, over and over in a neverending loop.

I know it must've been hard for Thomas, because it is hard. Because you feel like shit. Because you ask yourself how can you not write this right, what are you doing wrong? Maybe you did everything wrong from the start, maybe the entire thing is wrong, maybe you're just too stupid to do it - and you see other stories and other writings and they're all so good and you suck so much and you feel like an even bigger loser.

And now you may ask: how can you break this loop? How can you move forward?

We will talk about Thomas' solution in a bit.

_______________________

The lack of an outline

Thomas admitted he lost connection with his characters

He said he was feeling bad for letting people down

He said he's writing the outline of the season finale by referring to notes left by Joan

He finished 3 drafts out of 4 parts. And they're still reviewed

Wow, it looks like the lack of a proper, full outline leads to characterization errors, forgetting things and taking a lot of time. Jeez, I wonder who said all of this since like, idk, forever?

As I imagined, there is still no outline at all and Thomas isn't even working on a full outline for season 3: he's working on an outline for the season 2 finale. Which means season 3 is still stuck in a limbo.

And yes, I know they're not great news, but at least they're real news. Real fucking news about the finale, not just "finished draft 3" or "worked for 8 hours" or "it will come out this year maybe yes maybe not". We finally have real news and we know how much Thomas did and what he's currently working on and how much is still left to do. So, again, he deserves recognition for finally talking about it.

Does that mean the writing is good now? Heck no, this isn't a proper way to write and my previous post still stands: the writing is still taking too long, the lack of an outline is still a problem, part 4 and the review will probably take another two years minimum and a competent writer would've helped A LOT to make the writing smoother and faster.

However, I better understand now why Thomas didn't hire one: he probably wanted to do everything by himself to not disappoint everyone and was too prideful to ask for help - considering he didn't tell anyone about his struggles either.

But what did it lead to? The outline is still missing (with all the expected consequences) and Thomas suffered for the huge weight of expectation he put on himself.

_______________________

The importance of not escaping criticism

Thomas' resolutions for this year are:

to be more open and honest about his struggles

to stay away from criticism (he doesn't even want to be tagged in it)

Those are great resolutions, especially the first one. Considering he kept everything by himself and didn't tell anyone about his struggles, being more open and honest about them is a very good decision.

And staying away from negative criticism is good too, considering that 1) it's good for mental health in general and 2) he just admitted he internalizes criticism, so staying away from it can only be helpful.

However, as said before, Thomas sees as “negative criticism" everything, including people asking him about the finale. So if he escapes from all kinds of criticism, he will also escape from harmless fans who just want an update from him.

Besides, it’s never good to escape from all kinds of criticism. Criticism is essential for writing, especially constructive criticism. Sure, you might find the 12-year-old who says "You stink and your work sucks because my headcanon is not here!", but you may also find the expert who will explain some technicalities of writing. Or just someone who can offer a deeper insight into a character. Or just an interesting idea to develop into a plot point.

Also, considering how Thomas tends to label every little critic as "negative", people who want to show their love might end up feeling "forced" to use just compliments, in hopes that Thomas will notice them/know they love SaSi. Which isn’t good either, because... well, people would be forced to censor themselves and suffocate their rightful questions just to make him happy.

_______________________

How to escape the neverending loop of hate-writing

Thomas said he wants to rediscover his joy in writing by working on more Asides/other projects to "stretch his brain"

He also expressed his love for short-form creation

Thomas' solution is a good one. Doing other things, focusing on other stuff, letting SaSi in the back to write different stories: this is all good and valid, I’m sure it will help Thomas’ mental health a lot.

However, writing small stuff with no stakes is also what Thomas wrote for most of his life. So by doing that, he basically reverts to something he’s already used to. And of course he loves it, it’s his comfort zone: it’s very understandable he feels at ease inside it.

Still, this is not a bad thing: it’s good to do it once in a while and it's even necessary for your wellbeing. But you can understand by yourself that this doesn’t help solve the problem. This just postpones the problem. Maybe it won’t come back now, maybe not today or tomorrow or during the season 2 finale. But the problem will eventually come back.

Why? Because SaSi still lacks an outline. Because the story should still move in a more mature, complex direction. Because there are still a lot of threads to develop and close. Because the characters still need mature development.

How do I think Thomas can solve the problem? Sure, detaching himself from it is good for a while, but he cannot do just that and escape into his comfort zone. He needs to face the problem and he can do it only by learning how to write.

And if it’s hard to do (because it is), then the best solution would be to hire a competent writer. Not because the writer will replace him, not at all. The writer will help Thomas to learn and understand the technicalities of writing especially for a project as big as SaSi: like how to develop an outline, how to connect all threads, how to move from a simple to a more complex plot, how to keep a continuative plot throughout several episodes without destroying the stakes. The writer will be an assistant for the writing of SaSi and a teacher from whom Thomas can learn everything he needs.

So, if Thomas really wants to give himself some grace this year as he said, I suggest he shares his writing responsibilities with someone competent and bias-free. A real writer from whom he can learn not just for SaSi, but for his future projects too. Not only this will benefit him in the long run, but it will also give him a more humble and mature approach to writing in general, by recognizing and accepting his limits and doing actual work to improve himself.

But this is just my suggestion. If he wants, Thomas can keep doing what he’s doing now, i.e. working on smaller stuff into his comfort zone and stepping out a little bit when he feels more confident.

Again, this isn’t a bad solution, but the problem is that it takes a lot of time. But, like, A LOT. You need to regain confidence from inside your comfort zone, then step out again to face a bigger problem - a problem you still don’t know how to face, because you don’t know how to write and you don’t even have an outline or a plan to tackle it. And what if you lose confidence again? Will you come back into your comfort zone and wait again to gain enough confidence to step out once more?

I know you will never read this post, Thomas, but let me tell you this: I also lost the spark with my characters several times in the past. The first time, it was because I still didn’t know how to write, so I was frustrated by the writing itself and how everything was dull. Then I lost my spark because the plot kept getting stuck and I had no idea how to improve it.

Both times, I left the project in the back and focused on other smaller stories, smaller projects and books to read.

After the first time, it took me a couple of years to get back on this project. But do you know how long it took me the second time? This year, it will be 8 years. The last time I wrote that project was 2016. And only now, after 8 years, I think I found the solution I was searching for.I could do that, because I never showed this story to anyone. It has always been my personal, secret project. But can you do the same? Can you really afford to spend 8+ years, doing everything by yourself? As I said in my previous post, unfortunately Sanders Sides has your face. And you cannot revert the biological clock forever.

_______________________

In conclusion

Do I appreciate Thomas a little more after this video? Definitely. He still didn't apologize for his lack of organization and his take on criticism is a bit questionable, but he's improving. He showed more maturity than he did in the past three years and I appreciate that. He has my respect for doing it, for admitting his mistakes and for opening up.

Does that mean he can take forever for the finale? Heck no. I still want to see the finale before the end of time and I still want to get more frequent, honest updates coming from him. And, no that doesn’t mean he has to do 20-minute-long videos every time: even just a simple, clear tweet is enough. Just to let us know how the work is going.

I also hope he will develop better communication with his team, improve the organization and, most importantly, hire a competent writer from whom he can learn more about writing in general (and regarding SaSi).

While for the fandom, I wish we would be nicer too. It doesn't make sense for us to fight over a simple series, when there are bigger problems out there. Let's enjoy our time together instead, let's criticize if we want to, let's do fanart and write fanfictions and let's fight over silly stuff only, like which ship is the best and which Orange is the best Orange. Even if the second doesn’t even need a debate, because we all know pirate!Orange is the best ;P

#sanders sides #ask #thomas sanders #ts criticism #as you said we all love this series #and we all want what's best for it #that's the only thing that matters #and if there is someone who doesn't want SaSi to succeed #then let's just ignore them #they don't deserve any attention

[tsukkismoonlight]

When It Comes To You || J.K × Reader

Summary: You've somehow gotten stuck with the most obnoxious (Minus boy genius Armin Arlert) group ever for a college class project. Eren Jeager, and Jean Kirstein. The latter of which seems to find a way to weasel his way into your life, making your plans for a quiet college experience fall away.

Author's Note: okay, like a year and some odd change in months later i'm finally posting this fic!! Honestly life kinda got in the way but we all know how it is. Anywayyyys, I hope yall enjoy! This is my first longer fic, so let me know what you guys think! Also super big shoutout to my buddies on discord for beta reading the first portion of this! <3 wk: 16.7k

Warnings: unedited, probably ooc characteristics who knows

"Would you two knock it off?" were your first words since the two bone-headed, annoying, loud-mouthed boys had started arguing. 

Here you were, in an empty classroom, supposed to be working on a group project for at least an hour or two, and the /only/ thing that your group had done was bicker back and forth. 

The first of the two boneheads, Eren Jeager, had spent the whole time insisting on his ideas, and his ideas alone, while the other, Jean Kirstein, had only been arguing that the former's ideas were stupid and that 'if anything, Eren should shut his trap and just do the grunt work.'

The blonde, Armin Arlert, was clearly just as done with them, but took a more quiet approach to trying to stop them. Any time he could interject, he tried to reason with the two, but of course neither would listen. 

So, when you stood up, slamming your palms onto the table and shouting at them, all three of them quickly grew quiet. "We only have so much time to work on this project, and I am /not/ going to fail this project because you two idiots can't let go of your egos for more than two seconds!" 

"Well, maybe if this asshole would-" Eren started, mostly keeping his voice at a low grumble, sounding like a scolded child.

Jean, cutting Eren's words short while crossing his arms across his chest, "Oh yeah, /I'm/ the asshole here…"

But with another of your glares sent to both of them, the two stopped once more.

"Maybe we should split up the work?" Armin was already writing out two plans, where you could make out his name and Eren, meaning that you were stuck with Jean. 

Not that you wanted to be with either of them. You'd rather take Armin and just leave the other two to fail. But, as this was a group project, Professor Hange had made it clear that points were to be docked for any group that did not complete the assignment together.  

You plopped back into your seat, sighing heavily. "Okay, we will work in two groups. Looks like Eren, you're going with Armin, and Jean, you're with me." You paused as Armin slid over the paper he had drafted up. 

Glancing over it, you could see that he had given you and Jean a good amount of work, yet he had still given himself more. Part of you wanted to point it out, maybe even offer to take some of the load, but the other part of you knew that Armin would refuse and somehow make it sound like the nicest thing he'd ever do.

"Okay, so, from there, once all the research is done, Armin and I will meet up in person to work on the presentation bits, which means that Eren and Jean, you will only need to put your findings in a document for us. That should be easy enough." 

When no one objected, you started to pack up your things.You waited for Jean to take a picture of the draft before tucking it away in a folder carefully. 

Around you, the others started to do the same. With a small breath of relief, you finished packing up and slung your bag over your shoulders, looking to each of your groupmates slowly. "If anyone has questions,” you announced, “please text me. I gave Armin my number already, but if you need mine, ask now."

Eren slid his phone across the table to you, a sour look on his face, as he was clearly upset with the whole situation, and the fact that he had been yelled at over it. You ignored his attitude and typed in your number before returning the phone to him.

Next was Jean, who looked at you for a few moments, then handed his phone over to you, where you repeated the process of saving your number for him. 

With that done you set off to your dorm.You didn't live alone, but it was bound to be a wonderful change in pace (and in volume levels). When you arrived, you slipped your shoes off and headed for your room, pausing for a second as you saw one of your roommate and probably your closest friend Sasha Braus. Currently she was sitting on the floor of her room, clutching a bowl of soup…or what was probably a bowl of soup, as it was empty now. 

"Oh, hey! You're back already?" she asked, turning to you with a spoon dangling from her mouth. It caused a slight slur in her words, so it came out more like, "Ohhh, heyyy, yer bick alreaty?"

With a sigh, you walked into her room, dropping your bag by the door before flopping onto her bed (which was incredibly comfortable). "Yeah, I called it quits early because I got paired with Armin, Jean, and Eren, and Armin is fine and all, but your stupid friend and Eren can't go more than five seconds without fighting." 

You could hear a soft clink as Sasha put her spoon down. "Well, it always works for me to hit them." 

"I can't hit my group mates…even if I want to," you grumbled, rolling over onto your side so you could see her.

"I can hit them for you then, just tell me when and where." She flexed her arms, raising her eyebrows up and down at you as she did so. 

This caused a breathy laugh to come from you. You could feel yourself starting to relax. Your two roommates were probably the only reason that you had stayed sane so far. 

Sasha was always good at getting you to smile, at times she wouldn't stop until you showed some sign of positivity. And of course you were more than grateful for it. 

When you had first moved to the dorms, you had kept to yourself, unsure if you really liked her at all. But with time, you warmed up to her easily. 

There had been a handful of nights where she would invite you to stay up and just talk, or watch some movie. And, at times, she would share food with you, which you learned wasn't always her favorite thing to do. 

"Hey, one of these days we need to catch up on Food wars." 

You looked back to her, nodding along, "Oh for sure! Maybe sometime this next week I can stay up with you and we can watch it. Maybe buy some junk food too." 

At the prospect of snacks, she perked up even more. "Can we get-"

"Yes, we can get the baked potato flavored chips." 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Sasha pouted a little, though still unable to hide her excitement at the confirmation of her favorite snack.

You reached down and flicked her forehead lightly, "Well I already knew what you were going to say. It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Hey! I could have asked for something different! Like, salt and vinegar ones!" 

"You don't even like those, and neither do I. We wouldn't ever buy any." 

The two of you talked for another five or so minutes until she had to leave, shouting something about Connie Springer owing her dinner. You took the time to go back into your own room which you actually shared with a third roommate ( neither of you wanted to share a room with Sasha because of her snoring). However, he wasn't home yet, which meant that he'd probably be back late.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag and plugged it in; then you went to grab your notebooks, some pens and pencils, and finally your copy of the book for your project. It was best to get a headstart on the project, as it was worth most of your grade. 

Professor Hange had assigned the class to read and analyze an old book written by a nameless author. The idea and plot was interesting to a point. It was a war between mere humans, and a race of humans that could take control of what they called titans. The main two parties at war were named Marley and Eldia, both of which claimed that the other was in the wrong, and had vowed to take revenge, wanting to eradicate the other's existence. Towards the end, there was something of a compromise, and Marley seemed to come out victorious. All in all, there was a lot more to it, and the details were typically gorey and morally wrong. The ending wasn't ever written, leaving all readers to question what they knew and what they may not have been told. 

This is where your project came in: you were to try and look into the book, outside sources, even artwork, whatever the class could get their hands on, and work on an analysis. Hange hadn't given many guidelines; they wanted to leave it open and see what the class would come up with. Your group hadn't made a decision yet, but so far, Eren was dead set on writing an analysis on who he thought was right and freedom and some other crap, while Jean only had talked about how Eren was wrong. 

Luckily enough, Armin had already written up a potential analysis summary, one that focused on how the two sides were similar and what they shared in common with the rest of humanity, and how trying to pick a side would only allow their bloody history to repeat again. His was rather long winded, but it allowed for you to pick and choose the best parts, and what you guys wouldn't really need. 

You spent some time searching the internet for more sources, coming across a few articles on what could be a deeper meaning to the story, and a few on what could have been the rest of the world's view on both Marley and Eldia. 

That was when you came across a page for the local museum; it seemed that there was going to be an exhibit about the book, featuring many different artists and even some written works. Taking a moment to write down the dates and price for tickets in your phone’s note app. You then sent a quick text to Armin about it, letting him know that if he wanted, you could go and check it out with Jean. 

Clicking your phone off, you gave a heavy sigh and stood up, pulling your arms above your head in a stretch before continuing to work on the project. You knew that you should probably eat something, and drink some water, as you hadn’t really been able to do so in the last few hours. But with the project being so important, you decided against getting back up. If you got up now, chances were that you’d end up wasting some time doing who knows what. You really needed to just focus on your work, food, water and relaxing could come later. This was typical for you, what was one more time anyways?

Quietly, your afternoon quickly turned to night, and you wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for both of your roommates crashing into your room. 

You turned around, eyeballing Sasha and your third roommate, Marco Bodt, unsure if you really wanted to ask questions. 

"She was drinking with Connie at his place," 

"Huh? Noo I waz'nt ! Conn and I were jus playin a game an' then…and then..mmkay maybe I was drinking, but!" Sasha rambles on for a minute, still leaning heavily on Marco, who just gave a half hearted and weary smile. 

You shook your head, and stood up, making your way over to Sasha taking her off Marco's hands "Was Connie like this too?" you asked.

"Yeah, he and Jean both…" Marco sighed, following you as you took Sasha to her room. While you carefully put her in her bed,  Marco pulled her shoes off for her. 

At his words, you paused for just a moment then you continued to fish Sasha's phone from her pocket, placing it on the charger for her. 

"Of course, Jean was drinking, too." you remarked. You tried your best to ignore the irritation rising in you. It wasn't like you guys had to get the whole project done right away, or that Jean couldn't enjoy a drink with his friends. But, it wouldn't surprise you if only Armin and yourself had been the only two to even start.

As the two of you left Sasha to sleep, Marco motioned to the kitchen, saying, "Hungry?" You gave a small nod in response.

Once in the small kitchen area, you hopped onto the counter while your roommate got to work on making something simple. From the looks of it, he was just making mac and cheese, but you couldn't really care less. You hadn't noticed it earlier, but you were actually starving. 

A quiet buzz from your pocket pulled your attention from Marco cooking, and you pulled your phone out, seeing a few messages from an unsaved number. 

"Heyy, it's me"

"Jean"

"just figured i'd text you since we have be partners"

"Not complaining cause i dont wanna be stuck with eren" 

You shook your head at your phone, typing a quick reply back, “Wow really? I couldn’t tell.”

Another buzz, another incoming message, “I really hate that guy. He’s stuck up, and always thinks he’s right”

“You know, I feel like there’s someone else like that too.” You sucked in a deep breath, already feeling a tinge of annoyance creeping its way into your body. Sure, Jean was bound to be the better of the two, but that didn’t mean that you wanted him texting you about his testosterone fueled hatred for Eren.

A few moments pass before he texts you again, the words a little hard to make out at first, “you better not be implying that im like him”

“I would never do that. You are an okay person in my eyes”

“Just okay? I’m fuckin’ great!”

“Yeahh, sure. I agree with you, 100%”

You could almost feel his skeptical gaze through your phone as he sent yet another message, “I dont know if I believe that.”

“I dont care if you believe it or not tbh”

“I cant tell if you like me or not”

At this, you paused. You didn’t really know the guy outside of what you were told by Marco and Sasha. And he definitely did not know you. If he did, he wouldn’t be bothering you right now. But as much as that all was true, you also didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t like him, at least not over text while he was suspiciously hitting you up out of the blue.

“im not sure if like is the right word. Right now I tolerate you.” 

“Thats a good thing right?”

You didn’t answer, figuring that he would eventually get the hint. But, within minutes, he was texting you yet again. You watched as more messages popped up one by one, all of which just as hard to read as the others. Though you eventually figured them out. He was promising to do his share of the project, as well as promising to keep on schedule with it. The last thing he sent was asking to meet up tomorrow, and figure out what you wanted him to do, and something about how he couldn't really understand the guideline sheet. 

You sent a quick reply, just a place and a time, before returning your phone to your pocket, and just in time, Marco had a bowl of delicious mac and cheese for you. 

"Thanks man, you're the best." 

"Hey, you cooked last night," he said, shrugging, "and somehow it was pretty impressive, given the fact that we're all super broke and have next to nothing in our cupboards," 

You let out a small laugh at that. "I am a person of many talents."

"Do tell your secrets, as I am eager to know," Marco says in-between bites, playing into the bit.

"Oh, I couldn't, because then you would have to learn my /tragic/ backstory of how I had to fend for myself as a child." You dramatically sigh, placing a hand to your forehead, and then paused, peeking out at Marco before saying, "That part is actually true. At my house, we often had 'Fend for Yourself Nights' where you kinda just threw stuff together it could be leftovers, cereal or, like, dry ramen." 

Marco chuckles, pointing his fork at you and saying "So that must be the secret then!" 

The kitchen rendezvous went on for a while longer before you both headed off to bed, agreeing that Sasha can do the dishes when she wakes up. 

The next day, you had managed to drag yourself out of bed and find your way to the coffee shop where you were supposed to be meeting up with Jean. 

Key word is 'supposed' to be, since it had been 30 minutes since you had gotten there. Hopefully, you didn't look like some poor soul that had gotten stood up on a date and more like someone enjoying their Saturday morning. 

Another ten minutes passed, and no word from Jean, you had finished your coffee, and had already finished working on pulling out key information from a few of the web sources that you found the night before. 

You glanced at the time again and cursed under your breath. You had better things to be doing. So, you quickly pack up your things and toss out the trash before leaving.  

Just as you returned to the little table to grab your bag, the bell at the door chimed, drawing your attention.  

There stood Jean Kirstein himself, out of breath, hair hastily brushed out of his face, and clothes a whole mess…you were pretty sure he had worn them yesterday too. 

However, his sudden entrance had also gathered stares from everyone in the shop;most people looked on with a frown, questioning why he had just thrown open the door like that, just to stand there looking like a lost puppy. 

You groaned, marching towards him and then grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the way. 

"Seriously? You show up almost an hour late, and make a big scene?!" you say, continuing to pull him down the sidewalk.

"I know, I know!" He took in a sharp breath, stumbling as he went. 

"I mean seriously?! What's your deal?" 

"I didn't mean to be late! And can you stop shouting? My head is killing me…" 

You came to an abrupt stop and turned around to face him. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean to be late, you were still late! I mean, come on, I sat there and looked completely stupid while I waited!" 

At your words, he tugged his arm free from your grasp, and hesitated for a moment before, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have been here on time." 

"Or at least texted me to tell me!" You sighed, bringing a hand up to your temple. "Whatever, let's just find somewhere else to sit and I can show you what your part of the project is." 

With those words, the two of you walked in silence until you were back at campus, arriving at one of the rooms designated for studying. It didn't take long to run through Jean's responsibilities, and for you both to settle into a somewhat uncomfortable quiet and begin to work. 

Currently, you were taking the information gathered earlier and writing them into evidence for your thesis while Jean was searching for art pieces to analyze. 

Every fifteen to twenty minutes or so, you'd check in with eachother and help if needed-and Jean needed more help than you did, really. 

And maybe if he hadn’t spammed you with drunk texts the night before, and then came late to your meeting, it wouldnt have bothered you as much. So when he did ask for your help, you were being short and to the point. Luckily for you, helping him was easy. It consisted of choosing between artwork, and identifying key themes or details that stood out, and then giving him ways to write it down so that it made sense with the overall idea behind your project. Now and then, you'd have him read over what you wrote, just to see what all he thought and if he had any suggestions.

Finally, after a few hours, Jean leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly. "Okay, I think we've got a lot done. Why don't we break for the day?" he suggested.

At his words, you hesitated. While a break did sound nice, you'd much rather keep working. If you got ahead, there'd be time for breaks later, or time for helping Armin and the others. 

"You go on ahead, I'm going to stay a little longer. Thanks for showing up today." You gave a small smile before looking back down to your laptop, trying to spot where you left off. 

For a moment or so, Jean packed up his things, not necessarily quietly, but enough for it not to bother you. Though, after he finished doing so, he didn't leave. Instead, he stood /annoyingly/ close to you, seemingly trying to burn holes into the back of your head. 

"Is there something you need or…?" 

"You're seriously going to stay and work more?" 

"...Yeah?" 

Jean let out a small series of 'tsk' noises and began to close your notebooks and the few textbooks you had brought. You stuttered out half of a sentence, none of it making any sense, as you watched him stack up your things, his finishing move to carefully close your laptop without even shutting it off. 

"What are you…Why…I mean-what?" 

"I think you work too hard." he remarked, grinning. Normally that would sound snarky coming from him, this time he sounded gentle, and nothing in his face seemed to show any ill will. "I mean, I've never seen you do anything fun. All you do is push yourself to do work." 

You were at a loss for words, face heating up with embarrassment. Just because he had never seen you do fun things didn't mean that you were some sort of shut in who only ever focused on homework and studying. 

Jean waited for you to pack your things, all of which you did while in a small haze, trying to comprehend it all. When you were done, he motioned for you to follow him, not saying a word of what he had planned. 

The two of you walked outside, Jean slightly ahead of you as he continued to lead the way. Occasionally, someone would stop Jean, asking him about a party or a class. He seemed to have a lot of friends, or rather just a lot of acquaintances.

Eventually, you both came to a little grassy field, one where students often came to waste time, or play games like spikeball, or frisbee. Currently, it wasn't very busy, and the two of you found a spot to sit and relax under a warm spring sky.

For the first five minutes, you sat in silence, an almost comfortable one. You found yourself mumbling about how this wasn't so bad, noticing from the corner of your eye as Jean turned to look at you. 

"Would I ever lead you astray?" Jean elbowed you carefully, earning a scowl from you. 

"Given that we don't really know each other, I'm not sure," you retorted. 

"I know that we've had at least three classes together since freshman year, and that you don't seem to like anyone," he pointed out. 

"Not true,” you said. “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot," 

At this he barked out a laugh, a wonderful sound really, compared to his typical evil sounding snicker. "Okay, so you appreciate the presence of three specific people." 

"Three? I only named two people," you said, holding up two fingers to signify your only two friends. 

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but right now you don't seem to hate me, so I counted myself."

You gave another scowl."If we were able to pick our own groups, I would have picked other people, just for the record" 

"Ouch, that kind of stings." 

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but one thing you did know was that he probably wouldn't have picked you either.  Not that it really bothered you. While it was true that you've shared classes in the two years that you've been in college, the two of you never really talked. 

Sure, you've had the quick conversations in the hall, or maybe accidentally bumped into each other when trying to take Sasha home, or even just when Jean would hang out with Marco at your dorm. 

It wasn't that you didn't like him (aside from his huge ego and inability to get along with certain people) or even that you didn't like people in general. You honestly just wanted to focus on school, so that you would graduate on time, and get the hell out of this town. Personal relationships could come later, and you were completely content with that. Being alone wasn't something that bothered you. Or, something that you /let/ bother you. 

You leaned back until you were laying down in the grass, staring up at the cloudy sky. The more you thought about it, the more your head seemed to churn with an anxious and maybe even guilty conscience. 

"By the way, I'd say that, even though we didn't get to pick our own groups, I don't mind being paired with you." You sighed, keeping your eyes trained on the sky as Jean laid down next to you. 

From there, the conversation switched to a few different topics, one of them being a small argument over the particular shape of a cloud and what you thought it was. 

Eventually, the clouds dissipated, and the sky faded from its blue to a dusty orange lined with a pale pink-ish-purple. 

"I guess it's time to go home for the night," Jean said. 

"Mhm, guess so," you quietly said, but made no effort to sit up yet. 

Next to you, Jean stood, brushing off his clothes and running a hand through his hair, attempting to make sure there wasn't any grass on his person. Then, when it was apparent that you still hadn't even moved, he nudged you with his shoe. "You coming or what?" 

"I’m waiting," 

"For what?" 

"The first star I see" 

Jean slowly looked away from you and to the sky, "Can I ask why?" 

"No." 

It wasn't really a big deal, but this was your favorite time of the day, and you had the habit of looking for the first star you could find and making a small wish on it. It had been something you'd done ever since you were a kid; old habits die hard. But it wasn't something you just went and told people about, especially not someone like Jean. You were sure that he'd poke fun at you for it. 

His voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you watched as he pointed just above your heads. "I think there's one over there." 

From your perspective, he was lined up to where the star was atop his finger.The sight made you smile softly; you didn’t notice that he had glanced back down, watching the small moment. 

"Okay, now we can go." You sat up slowly and climbed to your feet, grabbing your bag from where it had been by your feet. 

The two of you parted ways for the night, and you found yourself back at your dorm, which was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Either Sasha would come home drunk again (or with her hands full of food that she got from Connie or that Niccolo guy) or that she would stay out for the night. Marco on the other hand, was probably visiting some other friends for the short weekend, so most likely, you had the place to yourself until the following evening. 

With the freedom at hand, you took some time to make dinner and lounged around the shared living space, until eventually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you forced yourself into your bed for the night.

The sound of knocking at your door woke you up. At first, you had half a mind to ignore it, but with your roommates, and the friends they had, the knocking wouldn't stop.  You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was around noon, a time that you hardly ever slept in till.

"Yeah, okay, I'm up. Who is it?" you grumbled at the door, noting that if it was Marco, he wouldn't necessarily need to knock, meaning that it must be Sasha. 

And it was. At your words, she swung the door open lazily, and leaned around the corner, "Heyyy, I was wondering if you had plans today? Connie, Jean, and I were going to play some volleyball! Wanna come? Marco is gonna join us later!" 

You took a moment to think it over. It was Sunday, so you didn't have classes, and depending on how long you were out, you could always do more homework later. Not to mention, Jean's comment about how you worked too much was still fresh in your mind. 

"...Yeah, okay, I'll come play. Give me a few minutes and I'll get dressed." 

She gave you a huge grin, shouting over her shoulder, "They said they'd come! You guys still have the net?" 

You watched as she disappeared back into the main area of the dorm, and then shut your door to change. When you exited, you could see the three of them waiting by the door, Jean holding the net, while Connie was tossing the ball between his hands. 

The walk was fairly short, as Jean had suggested the field that the two of you had been at the other day, and just like the day before, there weren't very many people out. You guys could set up a spot without having to worry about anyone else. 

At least, that's how it was at first. The game went smoothly. Surprisingly, all three of them were pretty good at the sport; though, if you had to rank them, it would be Sasha, then Jean (mostly because he can use his height to his advantage), and then Connie. 

For the first game you played, it was you and Sasha versus Jean and Connie. Then, it switched to you and Connie, and finally, you and Jean. 

No one was really counting points; no one could keep track, though each side was sure that they were winning, even if they weren't. It was about halfway through the current match, right as you were about to serve, when something came crashing into your head. 

It had hit you pretty hard, and it took you a moment to even realize what had happened and what was currently happening. 

"Hey, man, watch where you throw this thing! You nearly took my partner out!" Jean was holding a football and pointing it aggressively at another college student, who you think was named Floch or something close to it. 

The guy snatched the ball from Jean, giving him the dirtiest look. "Well, maybe you guys shouldn't be playing so close to where we are." 

At this, Connie and Sasha stepped up. Connie took to Jean's side, starting to bicker with the guy, while Sasha checked your head, fussing over you. 

"Just say sorry to our friend already. You can at least agree that you hit them!" You weren't sure who said that, as all the voices blended together until that moment. Suddenly all eyes were on you. 

More specifically, Floch's eyes. He regarded you warily, annoyance clear in his eyes and voice. "Your dumbass friend looks fine to me,” he sneered. “And besides, we tried to warn them, and they didn't move. It's their own fault. Don't go blaming me for your friend being an idiot." 

You weren't sure what came over you; maybe it was anger from the childish name calling, or maybe it was the stress of the week getting to you, but within an instant, you had crossed the few feet to get to him, and threw a punch. 

You watched as he stumbled back, nearly running into one of his nameless friends, as he clutched at his face. He was clearly seeing red.

"How dare you!" he shouted out. He started to make his way over to you, obscenities of all sorts falling from his mouth.

None of which you really heard, because at that exact moment, Sasha and Connie both shouted the same thing, 'Run,' and took off. 

And, before you knew it, Jean grabbed your hand, pulling you along as he chased after the two, until you four were sure that Floch and his extras weren't going to follow you. 

When you finally stopped, everyone was bent over, stuck in between laughing and gasping for air. 

"Holy shit! That was insane!" Sasha wheezed out, and straightened out, turning to the group with a large smile on her face.

Connie spoke next, hands still on his knees. "I can't believe we ran away." 

All at once, realization hit you: you had just clocked a guy, and then ran away, without even thinking twice. Never in your life had you done something like that. You weren't super confrontational, and you certainly would rather avoid physical altercations. But, at that moment, you had just done it. And, the crazy thing about it was how amusing you found it. Because even though you were struggling to breathe, you were laughing. The kind of laugh where you couldn't stop, and your eyes would start to tear up. 

From where he was standing at your side, Jean watched for a moment, a certain fluttering in his chest (though he could pass it off as his own endeavors with taking in air). You, for the first time that he had seen, were so laid back about the fact that you had hit someone. And the way that you were now chuckling to yourself, clearly in a sort of disbelief mixed with content. 

Jean drew your attention, "Is it bad that I kind of liked seeing you hit him?" Then he paused, as if he had rethought his choice of words. "I mean, in the sense that Floch is a stuck up, entitled bastard, and that he had it coming." 

You gave a little huff, and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure anyone would pay to see that…I honestly didn't know that I was going to hit him…until right after." 

"Well, that was amazing! That guy's been a tyrant since the beginning of the year! He even tries to get in with Eren's group, as if he was even worth being someone to talk to." Connie clapped a hand on your back, his adrenaline still running through him. 

"And I thought that Jean was the one to start fights," Sasha teased.

"Sasha! I don't start fights!" 

Around you, the three continued to talk while you watched, enjoying the sight.  

It was rather nice, for once. You weren't holed up in your dorm room while everyone else had fun, even if the fun was getting into a fight of sorts—which, as you thought back on it, the whole thing was kind of funny. It would have easily been solved if those assholes had just apologized, but you were starting to think that this outcome was better. 

“Hey, should we go back for our things?” Jean asked, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah, probably, and if those assholes are still there, I think we know someone who can take them on for us.” Connie sent a lopsided grin your way, a certain mischievous look in his eyes.

You shrugged, acting as innocent as possible. “Oh yeah, you’d be the perfect guy for that, even with the serious height disadvantage.” 

Connie’s mouth dropped open, not quite expecting that kind of remark from you. As far as he knew, you were silent, hardworking, and the person who likes to keep to yourself. Even you were a little surprised, but, maybe after today’s events you could try out some new ways to enjoy your life a little more.

Once again, the four of you made your way back to the field, and as you did, you could see a familiar figure standing by your net, looking down at his phone. 

“Marco! You made it!” Connie shouted out, drawing your friend’s attention. “You missed all the action; it was insane!”

“Huh? Did I miss out on playing? And where were you guys?” 

As you approached, Sasha and Connie exploded into answers for his question. 

“You only missed a little of our game-”

“We had to run from Forrester and his braindead lackeys!”

“We’ve got our own Rocky! You should have seen the way they punched him! No hesitation at all!”

Slowly, Marco seemed to piece all of the information together, nodding as he thought it all over. His eyes looked at everyone one by one until he got to you. “You punched someone? The most I've ever seen from you was the time you swore at your computer when it crashed!”

A small and almost shy smile escaped you, “Well, to be fair he started it. I honestly didn’t even think about doing it; my hand moved on it’s own,”

He only shook his head, looking back around the group. “So, are we still playing?”

Jean shook his head. “Maybe we should head back to one of the dorms? Relax or play some games?”

“Oh! I’ve got some fun games!” Sasha chimed in, then paused. “But I’m kind of hungry, so maybe we could make some food, too!”

Once everyone agreed to the plan, the now five of you ended up in the dorm you shared with Marco and Sasha, where Connie, Sasha and Marco focused on setting up some games in the little living room area, and you and Jean were tasked with making some dinner. Of course, it wasn’t exactly easy, given the few options, but eventually, the two of you were able to settle on a college delicacy: instant ramen. 

You pulled out a pot to fill with water, while Jean opened a few packs of said ramen. All in all, it was easy to make, and didn’t take terribly long. Before you knew it, you were handing out bowls to the other three while Jean brought over yours and his to where you were now sitting on the floor, some game cards in front of you. 

“Okay, listen up, I’m not explaining this twice,” Connie announced. “The game is simple: read a card to yourself and then say someones name who you think matches the card. You flip a coin. If it’s heads, you tell everyone what was on the card and give that person the card. If it’s tails, you keep it to yourself, and the card is yours.” Connie gave everyone a pointed look, and when no questions or objections were raised, the game started.

The first to go is Marco; he took a moment to read his card before immediately calling out Connie’s name. Then when the coin was flipped, it landed on heads, earning a small sigh from Marco. 

“It asked who would be the one to need parental supervision no matter what age someone is,” Marco explained.

“What? Why not Sasha?! She gets into more trouble than I do!” 

“Hah! Say that to Professor Levi and all the times he has had to tell you to shut up,” Jean remarked “And not to mention you black out at every party you go to. Do you know how many times I have to carry you home while you sing at the top of your lungs?”

Connie grumbled a bit, but didn’t try to deny the claims. Instead, he pulled out a card to read. His turn ended with a flip of tails, making it now your turn. 

From the main deck, you pulled your card and read it over silently: ‘Out of everyone in the group, who would you rather make out with?’

You can feel your face heat up, already knowing that you only really have two options, Jean or Marco. And Marco is only really a choice because of how well you know him, but even then, you wouldn’t really want to do that with him. So after a few moments of silence, you call Jean’s name, looking anywhere but at his face. 

“That took you some time; must be a good card.” Sasha grinned, reaching for the coin and giving it an impressive flip. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as it landed, and all at once, five heads stuck together to see the outcome.

Heads. The worst possible way for things to go. You could feel all eyes on you now, and you begrudgingly read out the card, once again avoiding looking at Jean entirely. 

A chorus of ooo’s and ahh’s filled your ears, and everyone had something to say about your answer. 

The only one you even managed to hear was the man himself: “I hope you plan to take me out first, I’m not won over so easily." Of course, he had a cocky smirk on his face, pointed directly at you. 

“Whatever, just…whoever is next, take your turn.” You shook your head, busying yourself with eating some of your food that was now starting to get a little cold. 

Time seemed to escape you all and the night drew to a close with Connie and Jean taking their leave. Marco took the time to wash the dishes, roping Sasha into helping, and you retired to your room. You took the time to change into some comfier clothes and settle into your bed, though not quite wanting to sleep just yet. 

Your mind was still stuck on the first game you played and the card you had picked Jean for. While you wouldn’t argue against the idea of finding Jean attractive, or even the idea of kissing him, you just weren’t sure why you were so trapped in thinking about it. You didn’t even know him all that well, and for the most part, you had thought that he was pretty unbearable. 

And yet, the more your thoughts seemed to revolve around him, the more you could feel an uneasy knot forming in your stomach. There was no way that you were going to let yourself get wrapped up in developing feelings for him, or anyone. You were supposed to be focusing on school so that you could get the hell out of this town and make something of yourself.

Not to mention the fact that all of your previous attempts at relationships crashed and burned. The last time that you had gotten close with someone in that way, you ended up with a mixture of being heartbroken and incredibly angry. That was about the time you started keeping to yourself, as if getting to know someone in a more than platonic way would cause your world to shatter again. You couldn’t-no /wouldn’t/ deal with something like that again. 

You let out a groan, planting face first into your pillow and trying to shoo away all thoughts related to romance and feelings, and of Jean Kirstein. 

“Suffocating yourself?” 

You jumped lightly, head snapping up to see Marco in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. His expression was a little hard to read, though he could be like that at times. 

“Uh…no, not quite what I’m going for, but if it gets the job done, then sure,” you joked.

He moved across the room to his own bed where he took a seat, facing you. “Then what’s with the face-in-pillow tactic?”

You hesitated, knowing full and well how close Marco was with Jean, closer than he was with you. “Oh, uh, just, school things, homework, assignments, that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah, for once I don’t buy that, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you to spill the details."

Again, you paused, turning away from Marco and looking towards the door. In truth, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, since he wouldn’t ever tell a secret that wasn’t his. He was definitely the guy who would just want to talk things out, not wanting things to end badly. 

“Okay…Well…that card I got earlier,” you began. “I’m just worried, and I know that it’s just a stupid game, but I cant help but think about it.”

“Worried that Jean took it the wrong way, or worried that you’d actually want to kiss him?”

Marco was somehow always hitting the nail on the head, a talent of his. 

“Would saying both make sense?”

He thought for a moment, the room filling with an unnamable silence, until he spoke again. “Well, I’m sure Jean is going to take it in the way he always does: an ego boost for his way too big head.” Another pause. “As for the idea of maybe wanting to kiss him, I wouldn’t say that's an all too terrible idea, besides the fact that it’s Jean. But, if you really aren't sure about how you feel towards him, maybe you could…test it out?"

“Test it out?” you repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Like ask him to hang out or something. You don’t have to necessarily make it like a date, but you could use the time to get to know him more, and figure out if it’s just because everyone made a big deal out of it, or if you might actually be interested in him, or getting to know him.”

You thought for a moment. The idea was pretty simple, and a good one at that, though just thinking about it made your heart rate speed up. It wasn’t like you had never been one on one with Jean, but now, with all of your thoughts being scrambled like eggs, it was slightly overwhelming. But when it came down to it, you wanted to sort it all out. If you could set your mind straight, and get rid of these terrible thoughts about Jean, you could get back on track for school.

“You’re right, I’ll definitely try that.” You let out a small breath of air and turned back to Marco. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What would you do without me? And don’t worry— I won’t say anything to anyone. my lips are sealed” He smiled, hand coming up to his mouth to mime a zipper motion.

“Okay, good. Unless you want to end up like the douche from earlier, I wouldn’t recommend telling a soul.” 

He gave a laugh before gathering some of his things to go and take a shower, leaving you alone once more. You eventually drifted off to sleep, and surprisingly, you didn’t wake up once.

The next day, you only had one class, and once that was over, you had gone to the library to study, needing to get work done for a few of your other classes. It was a nice change in pace from the day you had yesterday. It wasn’t super crowded, either, which meant you could focus on your work in peace. 

Though, it didn’t last long, as two new faces joined your table. You looked up, almost expecting to see Jean and Connie, or Marco and Sasha, but to your surprise, it was Eren and Armin. 

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you!” Armin smiles, though something in his eyes tells you that he didn’t pick your table without a reason. 

“Uh, no that’s okay.” 

He and Eren settled into two of the chairs, the latter of the two only pulling out his phone. Armin did the exact opposite. He took out two textbooks, a large notebook, and a handful of pens, pencils and markers. 

For the first five minutes or so, the three of you sat in silence. You worked on homework for a communications class, while armin was seemingly working on a paper for a psyche class. But when Eren suddenly scoffed at his phone, you stopped what you were doing to look up at him, questioning his action. 

He in turn looked at you, maybe even through you. “So, turns out, someone gave Forrester a nasty bruise yesterday. He wont say who, so i’m thinking he got his ass kicked and just doesn’t want to admit it.” 

You feigned ignorance, giving Eren a blank stare, “I’m not really sure who that is, but sounds like a tough time for him.”

Eren regarded you for a moment, but it wasn’t his stare that bothered you. You now had Armin’s attention, as if he wanted to ask a question. Or, make a comment on what you said. But instead he said, “Well, I’m not the one to really get into these things, but Floch does like to cause problems for himself, so maybe he deserved it?” 

You nodded along, not wanting to give Eren any more information. With him, rumors tended to get out of hand quickly, and you really did not want to be the talk of the school over an altercation with Floch. To everyone in the school, you were pretty much some nobody, and frankly, you weren’t upset at the idea. If it meant less trouble for you, it was going to be something you’d stay okay with.

“Well he’s been bitching about it all day. It’s starting to get on my nerves.” Eren flipped his phone over, leaning back in his chair as he did. 

“Does he expect you to do something about it?” You asked, still trying to keep a low profile, while also trying to pry more information out of him.

“I’m sure thats what he wants, but I’m not going to help him with that, Floch can fight his own battles.”

A thick silence descended over your table. You took it as a sign that you could continue working on your homework. The one for your comms class wasn’t due until tomorrow, but you really wanted to finish it. 

This had always really been how you did things. You tried to finish things early, study as soon as possible, take as much time to get your work done as possible. And you weren’t the only one. Armin had also gone back to his work, and though you weren’t sure when it was due for him, but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was due at the end of the week or so.

You weren’t all that close with Armin, but the two of you had taken the time to study with eachother for the one class that you did share, and you had even reached out once to ask if he would tutor you for a few sessions, needing help with your math at the time. It was a nice thought to know that you weren’t the only student to stray from the eyes of their peers.

Though he had a harder time with it, being best friends with Eren and all. Not to mention he was also friends with Mikasa Ackerman, who was arguably the girl who drew most people’s attention. 

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, and you felt your phone buzz. You picked it up from the table, squinting your eyes at the bright screen. It was Jean.

“Hey, why are you with Armin, and that idiot.”

At this, you paused, looking around the library, not seeing Jean. 

“Where are you?” you replied.

After a minute or two, your phone buzzed again.

“Come and find me.” 

And that was it. He didn’t send any other messages, even after you sent him two more, questioning him again. You frowned, then looked to your things. You had been working for awhile, so getting up and moving might not be the worst thing. You proceeded to pack everything that you had pulled out earlier, and stood from your chair, looking to the other two.

“I think I’m going to head out. Let’s meet up again later in the week to work on Professor Hange’s assignment.”

Armin glanced up, and smiled, “Okay! How about Thursday? I can show you what all I’ve finished!”

“Sounds good.” You gave a short wave, and turned away from the table, scanning the surrounding areas before setting off in a random direction. 

There were a few more tables behind some of the bookshelves, but none of the students sitting at them were Jean. You checked out the library’s computer section next, and kept looking until you ended up near Armin and Eren again. Another frown crossed your face, until you heard a muffled laugh. 

With the new hint, you looked upwards to the second floor. And there he was, leaning against the railing, smirking down at you. You felt your face heat up in what you were going to call embarrassment, and definitely not any other word that had to do with your complicated thoughts on him, and how from where you stood, he looked almost handsome. 

You sent a halfhearted glare his way and headed up the stairs, making your way over to him, about to comment on his antics, but you weren’t able to get a word out before he could make fun of you. 

“You looked really dumb running around trying to find me.”

You gave an astonished laugh, “Yeah, well you sounded like a complete stalker just now.”

“And you still came to find me. I’m starting to think you like me more than you let on.” 

The unsettling feeling returned to your stomach at his words, though you weren’t surprised that he was poking fun at you after yesterdays game. “In your dreams.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ease the increasing amount of uneasiness that was slowly taking ahold of you. 

“Hm, I guess that’s true. Does that mean you want me to dream about it?” He looked at you contently, despite all of what he said being the brashest thing you had heard from him yet.

You didn’t say anything to that, instead you changed the subject quickly. “To answer your question about who I was with, I actually didn’t plan on sitting with them. Armin and Eren joined me.”

He gave a slow nod, and peered back at the table down below, where the two were still sitting, “Do you think I could spit on Eren from here?”

“No, and I dont think you should even try.” 

“Buzzkill.”

You scoffed, “I am not a buzzkill. You are just in the middle of some pointless battle of being better than each other.”

Jean looked back to you, staring at you for a moment. Then back down at Eren. “I just don’t get what everyone sees in that guy. He’s clearly an egotistical bastard with no regards to anyone else.”

“Do you think that you guys have anything in common in the fact that you both have ridiculously large egos?”

“Don’t lump me in with him.” This he said more seriously, “Anyways, enough about him, do you want to go do something?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, and started for the stairs. You followed him wordlessly, and the two of you left the library, now back outside where a light breeze met you. The silence continued to hang over you two as you walked aimlessly in a random direction. You couldn’t tell if he was still thinking about your comment on him and Eren, or something else completely. You decided against asking him about it, and instead found a different topic. 

“Hey so, I found this art exhibit at the museum, it’s about the book Hange assigned us. I was thinking that we could go and check it out and see if we can find anything useful?”

He thought for a moment, eyes wandering the path ahead. “Okay, it doesn’t sound like the worst way to spend an afternoon.”

“Would eleven in the morning on Friday or Saturday be okay?”

“Friday works better for me, I think I’ve got plans with Connie on Satuday.” 

“Okay, Friday it is.” You paused, a smile slowly making it’s way onto your face, “Just make sure to be on time. I wont wait for you this time.”

“Hey! I already apologized for that.” He stopped in place, giving you a pointed look.

You stopped a few feet in front of him, shrugging as you continued to speak, “I need to cover all the bases. I am not going to wait around for you, just for you to tell me that you were hungover.”

“I am not going to be hungover again. I’m not going to make you wait, I swear.”

“You better not, I won’t be as forgiving this time.” You go to move past him, elbowing him as you do. 

He turns on his heel to catch up with you, giving you a slight push at the same time, “You were hardly forgiving last time. You were mad the entire time we were working on the assignment,” Jean pauses, taking a moment to look at the path that you had set off on, “Wait, where are we even going?”

You glanced over to him, then back infront of you. “Well, I’ve done nothing but school work today, and you didn’t mention anything specific other than ‘go do something’ and last time you picked where we went, so now its my turn.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are heading at least?”

“No.” You smiled a little at the statement, remembering how you had done the same thing to him when he had asked about you caring so much about seeing the stars. Looking back over to Jean, who was staring straight ahead, you took a moment to really look at him.

He was pretty tall, and when he wasn’t smiling like some sort of evil bastard, he had a pretty nasty resting bitch face, a combination that probably scared anyone who didn’t know him. Though, you could say that despite all that, he had a few attractive features to him. When he was smiling, actually smiling that is, his eyes lit up. You hadn’t noticed it much before, but now when you thought back on the past few days of being around him, you could see the way his eyes would hold a certain softness.  And when he was thinking, he tended to frown, scrunching up his nose until he came to whatever conclusion he needed. And when the two of you were in the field the other evening, he had an almost blissful aura to him, as if he had no cares in the world, you wouldn't ever guess that he was someone who caused so much trouble. Honestly it was probably a good thing that he had a difficult personality. If his ego was bad now, you don't want to know what he'd be like if he knew all of this about himself.

You looked away before he could catch you staring, and before you gave yourself any more time to think about him, not wanting to let yourself actually fall for the guy. 

Instead you focused on finding your way to today's randomized destination. If you were being honest, you hadn't actually thought of somewhere to go, and frankly, with how little you actually went out, you didn't know too many spots around campus. Regardless, you continued to lead the way, until an idea formed in your head. 

Earlier in the year, you had gotten a tad bit lost while trying to find a class, and ended up on the edge of your campus, where you stumbled on an old tree. Aside from the size of the thing, it seemed completely normal. But when you had looked further at it, there was something of a hidey hole in its backside. Since discovering it, you had made countless trips to the tree, using it as a place to get away from the school. You definitely weren't the first person to discover it, but it seemed like no one else ever really visited the old thing. 

As you and Jean came upon the tree, he gave a low whistle, craning his head back to take in it's height, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you just took me to a make out spot," 

You threw a bewildered look at him, before shaking your head slowly, "Well, since you do know better, you should know that it's more likely that I've brought you to the best place on campus to hide a body."

He in turn shook his own head, "And here I thought we we're getting closer," 

"Closer to hiding your body?"

"Not quite what I was thinking…" he trailed off, taking a moment to circle around the tree, his hand trailing along the bark as he went, "so, what made you pick here? Other than premeditated murder."

As he came back around, you watched as he took the time to drop his bag at the ground by his feet, kneeling down next to it for a moment, searching its contents. 

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who ever comes here anymore." You pause, eyeballing what Jean was now holding in his hands, "It's kind of like a secret hideout minus the secret part, since anyone can stumble on this old tree." 

"And yet you brought me here…I'm starting to worry about my wellbeing," he chuckles, then takes a seat a few feet away from the tree. 

In his hands, he held a sketchbook. It looked a good few years old, as loose pages stuck out here and there, and the sheets were starting to yellow along the edges. You watched on quietly, as he flipped open to one of the last few pages, pausing as he glanced back at the tree. 

After a few moments you moved to stand just behind him, looking down at the page, which now held some sketch lines, resembling the tree just ahead of you.

You kept quiet for a bit, watching him quietly. He was lighthanded, it was as if any stray line within the whole piece would fly off the page and into the world around you. 

"You know you can sit and watch me draw too, right?"

"Yeah, and sit next to you? No thanks." You moved away from him, a slight flustered tone in your voice as you realized just how long you had been observing him. 

Instead, you took a seat at the base of the tree, opening your own bag, pulling out some more of your homework. Between the two of you, the only noises were the sounds of pencil on paper, and the occasional shifting of branches in the wind. 

You weren't really sure just how long things stayed that way. The only thing that brought your mind back to reality was the feeling of being stared at. 

"Need something?" You asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow in Jean's direction.

He shook his head, closing his sketchbook quietly, "Not at all. I was just wondering how much homework you were going to do before you got bored of being such a studious person." 

You scoffed at him. He was teasing you for this again? 

"Well, unlike some people, I need to pass all my classes so I can get the hell out of here." 

"You hate it here that much?" 

You paused, a lump forming in your throat. How were you even supposed to answer that question? All in all, this small town was horrible, and had been that way your entire life. Growing up you didn't have very many friends, and your family was fairly distant to you. You had shouldered all of your problems and responsibilities by yourself. Even now, in your college years it was hard to shake the feeling that you were still alone. 

You drew in a breath. "Sometimes, I sit by myself at my desk, and just stare at one of my notebooks until all the lines blur together. And then I realize that I'm crying. But what's funny about that is, I never know why I'm crying. " you start, bringing your eyes to his, "I never have the words to describe what i'm feeling in those moments. It's the same with how I feel about this place. I really don't know if I hate it, or if I'm just…projecting something else onto it." 

Jean stills with the information, until he takes a long breath in, "Art isn't much of a passion for me, as much as it is a hobby. I can't tell you how many half finished sketches I have. Sometimes I feel like I just don't have it in me to finish them, as if I'm scared of not knowing what I'm going to do next." 

He isn't talking about art. You know this from the way that Jean looks at you, not with pity, but with a hint of understanding. 

It was silent once again. Your brain turned over and over as you repeated his words in your head. Slowly, a wistful smile spread across your face. 

"You know Jean, you're not so bad after all." 

He stands up, shaking his head as he does, and makes his way over to you, holding out a hand for you to take, "I have my moments, I can't always be the charming asshole everyone says I am."

You hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to his hand. Slender fingers and a wide palm, his hand looked soft, and the thought of holding it, even just for a moment, would be comforting. You took his hand, averting your gaze as he helped you to your feet. 

"I'm sure everyone leaves out the 'charming' part."

"That's where you're wrong, everyone thinks I'm charming."

"Everyone but me that is," you chirp back, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"You dont think I'm charming?" 

The churning sensation is back. You /wanted/ to say no, to tell him that he was annoying, loud-mouthed, and a pain in the ass, but somewhere in the time you'd known him, he had become annoyingly endearing, loudly funny, and a pain in the ass to ignore the thumping in your chest. 

"I can't say charming is the word I'd use to describe you. Horribly pleasant maybe, but not charming."

At this he smirks, starting to walk backwards away from you, "Oh so you think I'm pleasant? Hopefully in the way that I'm nice to look at." 

"You missed the word horrible," 

He waved off your comment, instead placing one hand on his chest, right over his heart, while reaching out the other hand towards you, "and yet, if I asked you to join me to a delicious five star dinner at my dorm, you'd still say yes." 

You could feel your face flush, knowing that he didn't mean anything more than just to hang out for a little bit longer, and not in some sort of lame date way, "I'd only come because it would be free food, even if the food is terrible. Like you." 

"So, that's a yes you'll be joining me for dinner? I've got…box mashed potatoes, frozen broccoli, and hopefully leftover seasoned chicken." 

You turned back to where you had left your things, a slightly messy sight. "Alright alright, I'll come, pick up your things and we can go." 

You knelt down next to your bag, trying to ignore the nervous shaking of your hands as you collected your things. Your mind raced with warring thoughts. How did this happen? How was it that Jean Kirstein of all people, had weaseled his way into being someone that you didn't fully hate? But, there was no way you were going to let him get in the way of school, and your plans to finally be free from this horrible town. But then part of you wondered, was it all one sided? Jean seemed to be the type to have all sorts of girls and guys fawning over him, even if he had only ever been open about one specific girl that he was interested in, which of course had been Mikasa. But you couldn't even blame him, she was out of everyone's league. How she seemed to be completely and obviously in love with Eren Jeager of all people was a mystery to you. 

"Hey, are you listening?" His voice stopped your thoughts in their tracks, as you hadn't even noticed that he had been speaking to you. 

"Now why would I be doing that?" You shouldered your bag, standing back up and facing him.

"We've been over this, because I'm charming- sorry, pleasant." 

"Again, you left out the horrible part." 

"I've got a feeling that you don't mean that, otherwise you'd just call me horrible." He turns halfway away from you, looking back to the general area of the school. 

You paused, walking up next to him, trying to ignore the fact that he was right, "You just have selective hearing." 

Jean eyed you while starting to head back to the dorms, a different and softer smile making its way onto his face, "Not when it comes to you." 

You nearly tripped over a stray rock, his words repeating in cycles in your head. You could only give him a glance, busying yourself with avoiding any other stones on the sidewalk. 

What did he mean by that? What did you want those words to mean? Your mind flashes back to your conversation with Marco. The feeling of your heart painfully pounding against your ribs surfaces. Your hands tremble ever so slightly while they grasp at the straps of your bag. Marco was right, and he hadn’t even said anything about you actually having feelings for Jean. 

As the thought hit, you spared another quick look towards him. He was looking at you. Careful eyes studying your demeanor. The way you walked. The way your eyes struggled to meet his. The way your mouth formed a tight line as you realized all of this was happening.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to try my cooking, you don’t have to come.” He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair for a moment. 

You looked away. You could turn him down, you could go home. It would be the easy way out. You could ignore any of his future attempts at hanging out. You could finish school and leave this place. Leave him and everyone else again. 

The thought of it made you shudder. In doing so, you would be condemning yourself to your worst self. Being alone. 

You looked back to Jean, his face morphed into one of concern, clearly puzzled as to why you were taking so long to answer. 

You were tired of being alone. Tired of pushing away your own happiness in pursuit of a future that wasn’t even set in stone. 

You flashed a smile his way, and waved off his words, “No way, you said it was a five star dinner. I can’t pass on that.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his confusion melted away, replaced by that famous cocky smile, “Okay good, I wasn’t sure what to do if you bailed on me.”

“Maybe you could have cooked for Connie too, light some candles, play some mood music, you know, make it all romantic for the two of you.” You chuckled, about to make another remark when Jean gave you a playful shove. 

“Why would you say that! I can’t have a romantic dinner with Connie of all people!” 

“Sure you can! It’s easy! Candles, music, food! All you need!” 

Jean groaned and shook his head. “You’re horrible.”

“Pleasant, actually.” You grinned. 

He hummed in response, and you could’ve swore you heard him mumble ‘horribly pleasant my ass’

His dorm room was warm, and set up similarly to yours. The same bland, small kitchen and the same questionable excuse for a couch just a few feet away. Three sets of doors that led to his roommates, and two bathrooms. 

One of the doors were open, and you caught a glimpse of Connie attempting to take mirror selfies. He would take one, bring the phone close to his face, frown and then try again. It wasn’t until his third or forth picture that he noticed you staring through the mirror. 

“Well if it isn’t our very own Rocky!” He grinned, hastily shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweats. 

“Hey Connie” you waved, then smirked a little, “I'm sure the ladies will love all of those selfies.” 

His face flushed slightly, and he stepped out of his small room, “For your information, the ladies already love seeing my handsome face. I was just taking a few more for-”

Jean cut him off, a bark of a laugh filling the room, “Like you can get a girl to think your ugly mug is anything worth looking at.” 

Connie gaped, “Dude, that’s just cold. I thought you liked my face.” 

You eyeballed the two, before turning to Jean and mouthing the words, ‘romantic dinner’ 

Jean glared halfheartedly, before a smile broke through, “and here I thought I was treating you to a five star, romantic dinner.” 

Connie was now the one looking between the two of you, unsure if Jean was being serious or not. You, on the other hand, could feel your face heat up. He had to be joking. Jean was making a joke based off of your joke. That was the only thing that would make sense at the moment. 

“Only if it involves candles and music.” You attempt to force your voice into sounding level, as if you weren’t sickeningly thrilled by the idea of your dinner with Jean being a little more than friendly. 

His head swivels around the room, scanning the small area before emitting a sigh of halfhearted defeat, “Might need a raincheck on that, I don't have any candles.” Jean pauses, thinking for a moment, “Unless you had your heart set on the romantic dinner with candles and music, maybe I can make something work.” He smirked in your direction, true to his usual cheeky self. 

You faced away from him, moving to set your backpack down on the floor by the door, “No candles, no deal.” You pause, practically feeling Connie’s wide eyed stare pointed at your back. 

“That’s not a no to having a more than friendly dinner, now is it?” Jean fires back, smiling in a not so innocent way. Your stomach twisted in knots. He wasn’t wrong. You had intentionally avoided his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of yet another person falling for his aggravating charm. 

You shrug a response, giving back another flippant response, “Sure, if it helps you sleep at night to think of it that way.” 

After a moment of silence, Connie’s voice fills the room. “Yeah so, I don’t really know whats going on here, but i’m gonna head out. Sasha is waiting for me with Marco.” He slides on a pair of shoes, grabs a bag and promptly leaves, but not before saying a goodbye, “See ya later Rocky, and Jean, I hope you choke on your food.”

To which, all Jean says is, “Yeah, whatever man.”

You watch him leave quietly, then turn back to face Jean, studying him for a moment. He hasn’t noticed your stares yet,  not when he’s busying himself with pulling out what he needed for this dinner supposedly high rated by Michelin themselves. 

Throughout the past year or so, you had noticed that when Jean was concentrating, he tended to screw up his face a little, eyebrows scrunched in, mouth quirked off to the side, usually whatever was in his hands was being toyed with. But right now, he was different. A content soft smile, and the look in his eyes was gentle. Fond. Domestic. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, feeling the need to do something other than just stand around. 

Jean looked back up at you, bag of frozen broccoli in his hands. “Do you want to make the instant potatoes or the broccoli?” 

You walked to him, and grabbed the bag from him, “Where do you keep your pots and pans?”

“Planning on making this a fancy dinner?” He paused, taking a moment to grab out a small pot for you, and then a lid. “Are you steaming them?”

You set the bag down, then eyed the pot and lid, “Would you happen to have one of those steaming baskets? Or do I need to get creative?”

Jean smiled sheepishly, “I’ve got Connie for a roommate. If I was Niccolo I would definitely have one of those, therefore, you’ll have to get creative. But you’re pretty smart, so I believe in you.”

You nodded slowly. That made sense. Jean and Connie were in the same boat as Sasha, Marco and yourself. If you had done more planning for dinner you probably could have worked something else with Niccolo to borrow his cooking supplies. Though you were sure that the guy would say no, as he was pretty particular about his things. Oh well. You’d have to figure something else. 

The rest of the preparations went fine, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting at a dingy table that each dorm room had, making small talk over left over chicken and mid-tier potatoes and broccoli. 

“Okay, so I’ll  bite. What’s your deal?” Jean asked suddenly, then his eyes went a little wide as he realized the wording of his question, “I mean! Uh…Well-”

You cut him off, easily able to tell what he meant, “Do you mean why do I have no life and only study and do my work alone?”

He melted under your gaze, before nodding slowly, “I meant it a little nicer though.”

“Its okay, I got what you meant…I think.” You set your fork down, suddenly scrutinizing a small crack in your plate. 

Jean cleared his throat a bit before speaking again, “It’s just that…you spend so much time studying, and it definitely pays off. I’ve heard from Sasha that you have really good grades. But…”

“But?”

“They worry about you. Sasha and Marco that is…and well, I kind of do too. At least, more now that I know you a little better.”

You don’t respond. He’s going somewhere with this. You can tell by the cadence of his voice, how he seems to be picking his words carefully.

“I think that even just in the past few days, you’ve opened  up a lot…I finally got to see you smile.” He paused, “I remember one time last year, in one of our shared classes, I went to see the professor, but you were already there, pleading with him for some extra credit. And when you came out, you look like you had been crying. The next day, I went out of my way to tell you a joke, hoping that maybe you’d smile.”

“I remember that. I told you that I was busy with a make up assignment and ignored you.” You hummed a little, thinking back to Jean back then. His hair was shorter, and he was even more obnoxious that he had been this year. It was one of the few times you had actually spoke to him at the time.

“So…I guess I was just wondering where all this pressure on you comes from?” He fidgets with something in his hands. Like when he’s focusing on his work. You’ve seen it countless times in the past, you just never thought about it until now.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to telling him a little bit about yourself, “I’ve lived here my whole life. And my whole life, I’ve basically been alone. Friends were hard to come by, especially after I decided that all I wanted to do was leave. So, with no one to hold me back, as long as I finish college strong, I can leave and go anywhere I want. I have to do this. Staying here is out of the question…” You trailed off, thinking about how you had never truly said these words out loud. 

“But?” He spoke softly, as if he could tell that you had been battling with yourself on what you truly wanted. He stared at you, not through you as most other people did. Your heart sped up. What were you supposed to say now? You had only started to question your aspirations because of him. And you absolutely would not be sharing that thought now. 

“But nothing. I meant what I said. I’m getting out of this hell and I’m not looking back. Ever.”  you spat the words out, a sudden low and hollow feeling settling in your stomach. What were you doing? A small voice in the back of your head answered that question for you. The same one that you let control most of your college days. You were wasting time, you had assignments to do and a degree to work towards. 

You moved to stand suddenly. “I have to go…I forgot that I’m supposed to meet with Armin tomorrow. I should really make sure that I’m ready to show him my part..and yours too.” You grabbed your backpack, and escaping out into the hall. 

You stood there quietly, chest moving up and down as you took in harsh breaths,  not entirely sure why you did all of that. With a shake of your head you made the journey back to your own dorm, not bothering to take off your shoes at the door like you normally did, instead you merely trudged into your room, tossing your bag onto the ground by your desk, and finding a seat on the edge of your bed. 

“Are you okay?” Your freckled friend spoke up, nearly giving you a heart attack in the process. You hadn’t even noticed that he was home.

You didn’t answer. Instead, tears began to fill your eyes. He was by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around you carefully. Muffled sobs wracked your body. With each one Marco only hugged you a little tighter. He let you cry until you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” The words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t stop what came after them, “This whole time i’ve had one goal; to graduate with soaring grades, and to leave. Make as few friends as possible so that way I wouldn’t get distracted…and so that leaving would be easier.” 

“What changed then?” Marco asked, his voice soft and careful. You got the feeling that he already knew the answer.

“Jean. Jean crashed into my life and ruined my plans. I haven’t even really known him that long and suddenly I’m throwing away school just to hang out with him. I haven’t been studying the same way I used to, instead I’m playing volleyball with him, and he’s holding my hand as we run away. I’m sitting with him by that old tree and thinking about him instead of the words on my papers. I’m cooking with him and thinking about how muchI want to do it all again.” Your words are quiet, but Marco hears them all the same.

“You do know that those don’t have to be bad things, right?” He lets you go, taking a moment to scoot away ever so slightly, making you look up at his face, where a small smile rests, “It’s been nice to see you let loose. And I know that you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

You attempt to frown, “Thats not true.” 

A beat passes and you speak again, “Okay. Maybe a little…but I-”

“No. No buts. You are the hardest working person I know. You are smart and you always apply yourself to your work. You are doing amazing. It’s time that you see that for yourself. You will finish school, and you will be able to go out into the world and do whatever you want to do, but that doesn’t mean you have to wait to have any of that fun. You deserve to enjoy your life, the one right now in the present that you are living, okay?”

His words played on repeat in your mind a few times, you tried to interalize them, make them into your own instead of letting that voice shoo them away. 

“Okay.” You nodded, then brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth for a moment, “I left Jean.”

“What?”

“We were eating dinner and talking and then I got upset and I just…I just left. “

Marco pursed his lips, nodding slightly as he tried to imagine the scene. Jean sitting alone at his table, probably confused and wondering what he did wrong. “Well…theres only so much you can do about that, which I suggest texting him. Let him know that you’re alright, and just so that the poor guy doesn’t overthink, that he didn’t cause you to run off.”

You nodded, “Right. Okay. I can do that.”

It grew quiet between you and Marco, though it didn’t last very long. There was a light tone in his voice, one he used when he wanted to tease someone without making them aware of it, though you had learned to recognize it fairly well. 

“So, I’m assuming that you like Jean…at least a little bit.”

“Okay. Get off my bed. This moment is over.” You push him gently, facing away from Marco. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh would you look at the time? I should really head to bed, okay goodnight Marco, get off my bed.”

He laughed, and did as you said, letting you have the room so you could change, “goodnight lovebird.”

Ignoring him as best as you could, you changed quickly, and crawled right back into your bed, under the safety of your comforter.  Once there, you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you brought up the chat with Jean.

You stared at it for a moment. The last messages were from earlier this day. He hadn’t said anything since then. 

Slowly you typed out an apology. “Hey Jean, I’m really sorry for just bailing earlier. Super not cool of me.”

You groaned at the words, quickly backspacing and starting again. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to just leave you there. I promise things are fine. It wasn’t you, or the food for that matter.” 

You hit send, not giving yourself time to overthink the text any longer. 

Fairly quick after your message had been sent, Jean had already replied. “Its okay! You had me worried for a minute there. Thought maybe the food tasted so bad that you just had to leave to get an actual five star dinner.”

He was being courteous. Trying to keep the conversation light as to not scare you off again. 

Your fingers flew across the keyboard once more, “Let me make it up to you. Friday, 11am, at the museum.”

“You really don’t have to make anything up to me, I get it.”

“Jean. Just let me feel bad and try to make it up. Or else I will think about this all night.”

His next message wasn’t exactly what you thought he’d say…or actually, it was exactly what he would say, “Oh, so if I don’t let you have your way, you will be up all night…thinking about me?”

“No.” You hit send. Then sent another message, “Ykw nevermind. I’m not sorry. Be on time friday or else.”

He was quick to shoot back another response, “Okay fine. Make it up to me.”

Then another message, “How do you plan on doing that anyways?”

“You’ll see. Be patient.”

It wasn’t long after that did you eventually fall asleep. The next day was pretty uneventful. Your meeting with Armin was fine, as the guy already had about half of the presentation outline done, and with all of the information and other necessary work that you had gathered, Armin would most likely have the whole thing done by the time he went to bed that night. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, almost too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, your alarm was going off, signalling that it was ten twenty-five in the morning. 

You had spent some time the day before thinking of how to make up for ditching Jean the other night, and finally settled on an idea. Said idea was currently sitting on your desk, inside a plastic bag. 

You gave it a quick look before climbing out of your bed, moving to your dresser to get ready for the day. 

You had just thrown on your shoes, sparing a glance at your phone to the time. It was eleven. You were going to be late. Of course after all that talk to Jean about being on time, you were going to be running behind this time. You could only imagine what he would have to say about it.

You hurriedly grabbed the bag from your desk, and shoved your phone into you pocket after sending yet another apology to Jean. 

The trip to the museum took about twenty minutes with public transport. It was eleven twenty-three and you had finally made it to the museum doors. 

Jean was standing just to the right of them, staring down at his phone, his back to you. You watched as he brought his phone to his ear, and smiled slightly as your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

You let it ring. Walking up and tapping his shoulder a few times. “Sorry I’m late.”

He spun around, eyes landing on your form. His mouth hung up for a moment before he hung up the phone call, “Is this to get back at me for the other day?”

“No…I just slept past my first alarm.”

“Oh so when you’re late its okay but when I’m late its the worst thing ever.”

You shrugged slightly, “I at least texted you in advance.” You paused, then remembered the bag you were holding, “Oh…um. I got you this. To make up for bailing.”

He eyed the bag suspiciously, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I worried about it. Now just say thanks and take the bag from me.” You rushed the words out, holding it out to him, “No refunds so you have to keep it.”

His fingers deftly took the plastic handles from you, and reached inside the bag. You watched quietly as he lifted the gift out, eyes softening as he realized what it was. 

“You bought me a new sketchbook?” He hummed a little, looking at the cover for a few moments, “This is a really nice brand too. I’ve always wanted to try it out.”

“Your other one looked a little full the other day…so I figured I could afford a nice one to say that I’m sorry. “

Jean let the sketchbook slide back into the bag, “Well…thank you. I really appreciate this.” He toed something on the ground, eyes unable to find yours. 

You instead took this moment to find the exhibit tickets on your phone, nudging him slightly, “Let’s get going, there’s a couple of pieces I think we should look at specifically.”

Once inside, you took a few moments to study the map of the place, trying to figure out which hall you needed to go to, before Jean took your hand in his, face a little flushed as he did so. 

“I come here pretty often, most of the new exhibits are near the back on the first floor.” He said, pulling you along with him. 

It wasn’t too crowded, and as most museums were, it was quiet. A nice solitude for those who liked to hide away from the world, and find new ones in the art and historical pieces sheltered there.

When the both of you made it to the exhibit, you found that you were the only ones there. Meaning that you could stare at the art as long as you needed. Which you did. Slowly you let Jean’s hand slip from yours.

You hadn’t thought about seeing the art in real life, and how much it would effect you. Entrap you in every single paint stroke, every single carving of marble. It was beautiful. Clearly the story that was assigned to you had meant a lot the various artists. 

You found Jean staring at a drawing. It was mostly in charcoal, though some color had been added here and there, giving the piece whimsical dimension. It looked to be a tree. A large, barren tree in a valley of never ending sand. From the branches, blue and green spilled out across the paper, spanning what would be the sky. 

“You like this one?” You asked with a hush, not wanting to startle him. 

He nodded, “It’s simple, but I just know that the artist put a lot of work into it. Every line is purposeful. And we will never truly know what it means.” He responded, eyes traveling down to the plaque, where it read the piece’s title, “Paths.” With an unnamed author. 

You let him look at the drawing for as long as he needed. You wandered to a sculpture on display a few steps to the right. It seemed to be one of the titans depicted in the story. Creme colored marble in the form of a woman, skeletal mouth open in what the book claimed to be a war cry. There were ribs formed around her abdomen. Her hand outstretched towards the open air. From this perspective, despite the lack of facial features, the statue almost looked sad. A women with an extraordinary ability, forced to use it for harm, all because she was in love with the wrong person. At least, that’s what you wanted to think.  You were sure that others in your class thought the opposite. Which of course was exactly what your analysis was going to focus on. 

You studied it for a few more moments, before looking away, finding Jean now standing across the room, in front of another painting. You moved to stand next to him, looking at what held his attention.

It was of a starry night sky, bathed in dark blues and purples. Underneath, was a lone pig in a field, head faced towards the grass. 

“This is what started the book, right?” You asked, watching as he nodded once.

“But that’s not what i’m thinking about.”

“Then what’s going on in your mind?”

Jean looked back to you, smiling sideways, “Why did you wait the other night, at the field? I figured that you were waiting for a star, but why?”

You brought your eyes back to the painting, looking from the dark green grass, to the pig that was grazing on it peacefully, then to a star painted to be the brightest one there. 

“When I was younger, I used to stand outside, or at my window, and just wait. As soon as I saw the first star of the night, I made a wish on it.” You paused, thinking back on your childhood, “I used to wish for a friend, or someone more than that. I was pretty lonely as a kid. Eventually I started wishing for a future other than that…and then, I stopped wishing. I still would wait for the star, but I made sure that I wasn’t relying on a ball of gas in the sky to make my wishes come true.”

“I’d say that they came true then.” Jean turned his body to face yours, looking down towards you, some thought dancing in his eyes.

You mimicked his motion, allowing yourself to face him fully, “And what makes you say that?”

“You’ve made two whole friends.” 

“I’ve made three.” You corrected him softly, thinking back to your first conversation about it with him, “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot.” You state matter of factly.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “And the third? Don’t tell me it’s Floch…or even worse, Eren.”

“Mmm close. It’s you.” 

He places a hand to his heart, dramatic words escaping him, “How long have I waited for you to realize that you and I are friends.”

“You’re still horribly pleasant.” You remark, shaking your head, “Maybe I should take it back about being friends.”

“Too late, you already said it. No refunds.” He drew closer to you, enough to where you could feel his warmth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Isn’t that technically already a question?” You pause, then nod to him, “But, yeah, go for it.”

“When you graduate, and leave this town. Will you forget about your friends?”

You hesitate. You knew that he wasn’t really asking about Marco or Sasha. You can feel your stomach flip over a few times, that annoying feeling of nervousness that came whenever you thought about Jean.

“No. I wont. How could I?” Your words seem to have some sort of effect on Jean, as he dodesn’t speak. You continue, trying to pick your words carefully, “When it comes to you, specifically you…I would have one hell of a time forgetting you, Jean.”

“I am pretty cool…” He mumbles, then swallows his pride, “But, what if I don’t want you to remember me?” 

You tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look, but still allowing him to continue.

“I just mean…what if I want to be remembered as not just a friend. As more than that?” 

He locks eyes with you, his face serious as he waits for you to say something, to say anything really. 

You swear that your heart stops beating altogether. It wasn’t one sided. You thought back to your conversation with Marco from two nights before. You deserved this. Deserved to enjoy yourself. To let yourself live a little. 

“I think i’d like that.” You smile warmly, “Because I like you Jean. I tried really hard not to, but I do. And maybe, just maybe I don’t want to look back on college and only remember you as a friend.” You pause, taking in a small breath and willed yourself to finish your thought, “Maybe, after I graduate, we both can look back on the time. Together.”

“So, you don’t want to skip town and never look back?” he asks

“Skip town? Still do, but I can’t afford to ignore my time here.” 

“What if I came with you when you leave.” it’s less of a question, and more of an idea.

“Let’s just get to graduation first, Jean.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding as he does, “Got ahead of myself there. But I have one more question.”

You study him for a moment, just as you had been studying the rest of the art in the museum. “You know, you were only supposed to ask one question anyways.”

“Last one, I promise.” 

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re suddenly all too aware of the small gap in your bodies, and his baited breath, and the sensation in your stomach that feels less like churning water and more like butterflies floating around blooming flowers. You hardly hear yourself tell him yes. 

The stiffness leaves Jean’s body, and he brings his hand free from the plastic bag up to your face, cupping your cheek lightly. His hand is warm, but not as warm as your flushed face is. His thumb moves back and forth slightly as he pulls you to him. His lips are soft, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your cheek. You easily find it in you to move in sync with him, allowing yourself to lean into the kiss, a small smile finding its way onto your face. 

He lets you pull away first. And for a moment all the two of you can do is stand there. You’re sure that you could stand there all day with him. 

You let him speak first. 

“So, am I still horrible?”

“Horribly, yet pleasantly charming. Yes.”

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