#so yeah don’t bother asking for my account because i deleted it

[belovedguk]

burnout (jk)

summary: jeon jungkook asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend in order to get back at his ex-girlfriend. however, you soon realize his true intentions.

pairing: bball player!jungkook x student journalist fem!reader

genres: yandere, dark romance, slow burn

author’s note: this is a repost or burnout chapters 1-3 + a bonus sneak peek from chapter 4 from my deleted account, aikastales, for easy viewing. it is still on hold. minors do not interact. no warnings for this specific part.

total word count: 10k

PART ONE

Why was Jeon Jungkook at the Communications building? 

He had a red and white leather jacket on top of a white shirt, jeans, and his black combat boots. His long hair was a mess, which you guessed was due to his helmet, and when he saw you walking down the steps of the building, he perked up, smiled, and waved at you. 

At first, you weren’t even sure if it was you he was waving at, so you were a bit stunned, and looked over your shoulder. But then, you heard your name called by him. You and Jungkook were not friends. Sure, you exchanged friendly nods at each other whenever your paths would cross, but that was the end of it. In fact, the only reason why you even exchanged those friendly nods was because of Taehyung—your cousin who also happened to be his best friend since preschool. If it wasn’t for him, you and Jungkook would just pass by each other without so much as a glance. 

And so, it was only natural that you were confused and surprised when you saw him leaning against his motorcycle in front of your college’s building, apparently waiting for you. 

“Y/N, hey,” Jungkook greeted with a smile on his handsome face once he was near you. 

Still confused, you returned the smile, adjusting the strap of your backpack hanging over your shoulder. “Hi, Jungkook. Is everything okay?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, everything is—everything’s fine,” he said. Then, he cleared his throat. “Do you have time like right now? My treat.” He asked, his doe eyes piercing into yours. 

You could not believe what you just heard. “What?” Was all you could reply. 

Jungkook chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I know. It’s a shock, right? Believe me, I am too, but I just really need to talk to you about something. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t so important.” 

“Is it about Taehyung? Is he okay? Did he get into trouble?” You asked, alert. It was the only logical answer why Jungkook waited for you and why he wanted to talk to you. Taehyung was the only person connecting the both of you. 

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no, it’s not about Taehyung, but he’s fine. He’s in his class right now. Look,” he sighed deeply, licking his lower lip with the tip of his tongue before staring at you once more. “Yiseul, I just really need to talk to you. In private.”

You debated whether to go with him or not. This was Jeon Jungkook. Despite his tattoos, broad shoulders, piercings, and big bike—he was harmless. He was your cousin’s best friend, and even though you two weren’t friends, he looked like he needed one at the moment. Besides, you wouldn’t deny that a part of you wasn’t curious as to why he needed to talk to you. That and the fact that because you had been in love with him since you met him when you were thirteen, how could you say no to something that you had only imagined in your wildest dreams? 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go,” you agreed, heart beating rapidly. “Where are we going?” 

Jungkook’s smile widened when you agreed. “There’s a basement cafe twenty minutes from here. It’s called Seven.” 

The both of you began making your way towards his motorcycle. “Just how private is this conversation going to be?” you asked supposedly only for yourself, but accidentally, you said it out loud. 

“I guess you already have an idea on how private it needs to be considering the location,” he chuckled. “But don’t worry—I promise you’ll get home in one piece.” 

Jungkook handed you his extra helmet, and you were thankful that you didn’t wear a dress that day. After placing your backpack in front of your chest, you wore the helmet. “Can you give me a hint on what it’s about?” 

You couldn’t help it. You were curious. 

“I remember you always being curious, Y/N. Glad you haven’t changed at all,” Jungkook said, mounting his motorcycle. “In twenty minutes, you’ll know. If you ride now, you’ll know in fifteen minutes.” 

You thought he looked so attractive as he smiled and waited for you on his motorcycle. His smile was so infectious that you couldn’t help but to return it. “Alright, fine,” you say. Then, you mounted his motorcycle, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. 

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, placing his key into the ignition, briefly glancing at you. 

“Yeah, ready,” you replied. He started the engine and you held onto your backpack for dear life. You had seen Jungkook drive his motorcycle before and the only way you could describe it was fast. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

Jungkook drove off. 

As promised, fifteen minutes later, you arrived at Seven. It was indeed a basement cafe, secluded from the busy city streets and tucked in between fruit stands and ready-to-wear clothes inside an alley. You were the first to get off his motorcycle, taking your helmet off. Shaking your head, you took in your surroundings while Jungkook took his motorcycle garments off. 

The alley was alive with mostly elderly people buying fruits and high schoolers buying the RTWs. The tangerines stood out due to their bright color against the setting sun. You wondered when and how Jungkook came to know the place, if he frequented it, why he chose this place over all other cafes. 

“Y/N? Let’s go inside?” Jungkook asked, gesturing to you to enter the cafe first. 

You nodded, entering Seven. As a basement cafe, the first thing you noticed were the windows placed near the ceiling. A permanent sepia hue covered the entire establishment due to its yellow orange lights. The walls were painted gray, tables and chairs white. There were only a few tables and chairs, and Jungkook led the way to the one at the very back. 

He pulled the chair out of you which you thanked him for, and you sat down. Jungkook followed afterwards, placing the helmets on the table between the both of you. 

“What do you want?” He asked, pulling his chair closer to the table. 

“Honestly, I’m more curious on why you want to talk to me than have any drinks here,” you told him, placing your backpack on the floor beside your chair. 

Jungkook chuckled, leaning his back against his chair. “Alright. Should I just say it?” 

You nodded. 

“I was hoping that you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend to make Haemin jealous,” Jungkook said so casually that you were completely and utterly stunned. Did you just hear him correctly? Upon seeing your reaction, he continued, “She broke up with me a month ago, and to be honest, I saw it coming already. We were getting into a lot of meaningless fights, always finding faults in one another, and just overall, being toxic to each other. So, when she broke up with me, I did not put up a fight, and just let her be,” Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head lightly. “Then, I learned that she was seeing Han Riyeo, that fucking bastard from Yongsan, behind my back for three months, and I want to get back at her.” 

His explanation did not help you grasp what he just said previously. You were still stunned, but you managed to ask, “Why me?” 

“For reasons I still don’t know, Haemin was always jealous of you,” he confessed.

Now, that was a surprise. “What? You and I barely had any interaction.” 

“I know, but I suspect it’s because you’re there whenever I hang out with Taehyung,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, then ran his fingers through his hair. “So? Will you help me, Y/N?” 

“This is pretty childish, don’t you think?” you told him, eyebrows furrowed. 

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll pay you. I know you need the money. Taehyung mentioned you’re saving for the deposit on this apartment you want to rent.” 

You stared at him, trying to find any trace of mischief in his eyes and body language but found none. Jungkook was serious. A part of you knew that the logical answer would be to decline his offer. It was childish, as you had told him. It was a nuisance and it would do nothing but bring problems and complications in your life. Your life was complicated enough, and you didn’t need to add Jeon Jungkook’s fake girlfriend to your list of complications. 

But this was Jeon Jungkook. The person you had been in love with since you were thirteen. The person you supported, cheered on, and loved unconditionally from afar because it was all that you could do. You would be lying if you said that you did not imagine yourself being his girlfriend—going to every game, wearing his jersey, riding his motorcycle, going on dates, taking lots of photos and videos of him, hugging, and even kissing him—because you did, countless times. You would also be lying if you didn’t think that you could love him better than Haemin ever did. 

They said love makes you do crazy things. You didn’t think that applied to you. You loved Jeon Jungkook, and you didn’t think that that love would fade anytime soon. So, even though you knew that this was pretend and paid, you said, “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

After your orders arrived, the both of you continued your conversation. 

“So, how will this work?” you asked, sipping your iced chocolate drink. 

Jungkook put up a finger, chewing the cheeseburger he ordered, and afterwards, he replied, “We act like a couple. Go on dates, post them on social media, and all that.” 

You were never someone who did things half-assed. If you were going to get paid to fake date someone, you might as well go all out. Also, perhaps, a part of you just wanted to make the most out of being Jeon Jungkook’s fake girlfriend. 

“I don’t think that would be enough to make Haemin jealous. If you really want that, we should do the things you either only did with her or promised to do with her,” you pointed out.

Jungkook nodded. “I see. You got a point.” 

“So, what are those things? The things you did for her and the things you promised to do with her?” 

He inhaled deeply, scratching the side of his nose as he thought. “Well, I pick her up everyday. Take her out on picnic dates, study with her, and I go to her recitals.” 

You nodded. “Okay. Then, you should pick me up everyday, take me out on picnic dates, study with me, and well, I don’t really do any recitals.” 

“Alright. I’ll do that,” Jungkook grinned. “As for the things I promised to do with her—the first thing that popped in my mind was that I promised I’ll take her to my brother’s wedding.” 

“We shouldn’t involve our families in this. Me being Taehyung’s cousin is complicated enough,” you remarked. 

“Okay. How about this? We made plans to go out of town during winter break. Do you wanna do that?” 

“Where?” 

“My sister-in-law runs a small resort in Busan. It’s by the beach,” 

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Okay. That could work.”

“For my part, you have to go to my games. That’s pretty much all you have to do, and of course, the dates.” 

“That’s already a given,” you told him. “I’m assigned to cover your games this season.” 

“Right. You are the News editor of the Times. I’m honored,” Jungkook placed a hand on his chest, bowing his head at you. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I have a question.” 

“Go for it.” 

“What will happen when Haemin gets jealous? Will we “break up” and the two of you will get back together?” you asked, cautiously, but also curiously. 

“I have no plans of getting back together with her,” Jungkook answered. “But when she finally gets jealous and tells me about it, then revenge is served. I guess then we’ll break up. But don’t worry, I’ll pay you handsomely every time so you could move into that apartment of yours. It’s the least I could do after you agreed to do this with me.” 

It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. After all, this was only paid and pretend, but it did. 

“Alright,” you said. “We should shake hands on it.” 

You extended your hand toward him and Jungkook sealed the deal with his firm handshake. “Starting today, you’re my girl, Y/N.” 

You would be the first to admit that looking after Kim Taehyung was something you did out of debt of gratitude toward his parents. After your father passed away when you were only eleven years old, your mother couldn’t afford to send you to school, so his parents financed your education since then and until now that you were in college. You lived with Taehyung at the condominium they bought for him near the university and since you were on scholarship through your membership at the official student publication of Jamsil University, The Jamsil Times, they only paid for your miscellaneous fees every semester. 

Because of these, you felt like Taehyung was your responsibility. You had to take care of him, look after him, tutor him, make sure he did all his school work, attend his classes, and be there every time he asked you to. It felt like when it came to him and his parents, you couldn’t say no because if you did, you could easily lose your housing and education.

It didn’t help that Taehyung seemed to attract trouble wherever he was. He even gained a nickname for it in high school which followed him in college, “Trouble Taehyung.” You couldn’t remember the times you apologized on his behalf, woke up in the middle of the night from a call from one of his so-called friends asking if you could pick him up as he was drunk and bruised, and ensured none of his troubles reached his parents. 

Tonight was no different. 

You woke up from the sound of your phone vibrating against your desk. You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep, studying for your upcoming midterms exam, and when you woke up, you could feel the soreness of your neck and lower back. With one eye open, your vision adjusted to the bright light coming from your phone, and saw Park Jimin’s name flashing on your screen. Immediately, you knew why he was calling you. There could only be one reason: Kim Taehyung. 

“Hello?” your voice was hoarse, groggy from your slumber. 

“Y/N? I’m sorry I woke you up, didn’t I? It’s—,” 

“Taehyung, I know. What happened this time?” you sighed deeply, rubbing your face with your free hand. “Where are you guys?” 

“He got into an argument with this guy, and well, it led to a fight. He’s bruised, bleeding, but he refuses to go to a hospital, but—,” 

“Hey! Is that Y/N? I told you not to call her, Park Jimin!” you could hear Taehyung’s voice in the background which made you sigh once more. Moments later, it was Taehyung who was on the call with you. “Y/N, sorry. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Jimin’s just a worry wart.” 

“Taehyung,” you were tired and it was evident in your tone. “Go to the hospital if you’re bleeding. It might get infected.” 

“I can’t,” he replied. “Mom is going to find out. It’s a small world, you know that,” his tone was low, cautious, as though he did not want anyone else hearing him. “I’m fine. I’ll put on some ointment and band-aid and I’m good.” 

You wished you didn’t give a shit about him. But you did. Whether it was out of debt of gratitude or not, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t help him. Perhaps, you had gotten so used to it that it had become a part of you already, like a hobby, like a memory. 

“Where are you, Taehyung?” 

“Y/N, seriously, I’m—,” 

“Taehyung, just tell me where you are,” your patience was wearing thin and Taehyung knew that. 

“We’re at Jungkook’s apartment,” he muttered. 

Even the mention of his name was enough for the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. Even by just hearing his name, your irritation seemed to slowly fade away. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in a while. I’m gonna use your car, okay?” 

“Okay. Y/N, I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologized and you could hear his sincerity. 

“Don’t be,” you told him as you stood up from your chair. “See you. I’ll hang up now.” 

Just how deep does blood run? 

You were at Jungkook’s apartment minutes later, thanks to no traffic and him only living fifteen minutes from Taehyung’s condominium. When you rang the bell to his unit, you already expected that he would be the one to answer the door. You just didn’t expect that he would be wearing gray sweatpants and a white loose muscle tee showing off his toned tattooed arm. Seeing him in that light, you couldn’t help but feel more attracted to him. Jungkook was truly a sight to see. 

“Hey,” he greeted you with a smile. “Come inside.” 

“Thanks,” you told him, entering his apartment. It was simple, neat, and smelled of vanilla. You took off your shoes by the doorway, placing a hand on the wall beside you. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

“Kitchen,” he replied behind you. “Y/N,” his hot breath fanned over your exposed neck, making you shiver. “I’ll linger around you, alright? That way, they could get a hint that something’s going on with us. Is that okay?” he whispered. 

His low tone was simply mesmerizing. “Okay,” you breathed out. Thank god you had your hand on that wall otherwise you would have literally fallen. 

“Okay,” he chuckled, and led the way to the kitchen. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung exclaimed when he saw you. He was sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen island while Jimin looked through the refrigerator. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and made your way toward him, placing the plastic bag you hand in your hand on the counter beside you. Taehyung jumped off the stool he was sitting on, instantly giving you a squeezing hug. He was always an affectionate boy growing up. You weren’t so you found it uncomfortable at first. But the more Taehyung did it, you got used to it. 

“Let me see your bruise,” you guided him back to the stool, and began taking out the first aid you bought along the way. The bruise wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. You were expecting that he would have a black eye, a deep cut that would need stitches, but it was manageable by you. Jimin was overreacting, you concluded. “What happened? How did you get this?” 

As you began to clean the cut on Taehyung’s cheek, Jimin sat down across from your cousin while Jungkook made his way near you. 

“One minute I was dancing next to some girl, the next, her boyfriend landed a punch on my face. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend—she told me she was single,” Taehyung explained. 

“Didn’t know my ass,” Jimin scoffed. “Everyone knows Heejin is with Taemin. Everyone also knows that Taemin’s a crazy jealous bastard. You were just looking for trouble, as always.” 

“I was not,” your cousin retorted, throwing the medical tape you bought at his friend. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Stop it, you two,” you hissed, pressing the cotton ball a bit harder against Taehyung’s bruise. He winced. “Is that true?” you asked him. 

Taehyung didn’t answer. You sighed. 

“You knew it was wrong, and yet, you did it anyway knowing it’ll just get you in trouble,” you muttered. “Why did you do it?” 

Taehyung sighed deeply. “Because Taemin’s a piece of shit.” 

“You’re also a piece of shit,” Jimin snorted. “Both of you are the biggest pieces of shit at Jamsil.” 

“Do you wanna get punched?” 

“Let’s go right now,” 

“Hey, stop it. You’re so fucking loud,” Jungkook reprimands the two bickering men. “You already woke me up from my sleep by going here. Don’t wake up the entire fucking building.” 

Moments later, you finished tending to Taehyung’s cut. “All done. Come on, let’s go home.” 

Taehyun didn’t protest. You began to clean up your mess, placing everything back into the plastic bag. Silence filled Jungkook’s kitchen. The three of you weren’t close so there were no conversations where all of you could participate. 

“Let’s go,” you bowed your head at Jimin as a farewell which he returned. Then, your eye caught Jungkook’s gaze. You weren’t sure what to do. Fortunately, Jungkook was quick-witted. 

“I’ll walk you guys out,” he said coolly, pushing himself off of the sink he was leaning against. 

“No need. Just go back to sleep. Thanks for letting us in,” Taehyung shook his head, patting his best friend’s shoulder as he passed by him. 

“I insist,” Jungkook responded. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Jimin asked Jungkook as he made his way out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah sure,” 

You followed Jungkook and Taehyung out of the former’s apartment. As you and your cousin slipped on your shoes, Jungkook waited outside his apartment. 

“Are you mad at me?” Taehyung asked, meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

“I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. “But you have to stop involving and getting yourself into trouble, Tae. Sooner or later, you’ll end up getting really hurt.” 

“I will, I promise,” he smiled at you and you nodded, exiting the apartment. 

The three of you walked down the hallway; the two boys walking on your sides. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was consciously doing it, but it was making your heart pound. Whenever your fingers brushed against his, there was an electric shock that flew through your body. And as you reached the end of the hallway and in front of the elevator, and when the doors opened, Jungkook placed his hand at your lower back, gesturing you to enter the lift first. 

You looked at him, and there was a knowing smile plastered on his face that made you blush. “After you,” he said. 

You were fucking lovestruck. 

Championships cast a spell in your school. Jamsil University’s premier sport was basketball and with an all-star lineup this year—it was not even up for discussion that your university would be one of the teams playing out to become this year’s champions.

To say the least, sports were not your thing. While you understood the basics, it wasn’t something you were interested in. Your father had enrolled you in a tennis class once but after witnessing how, simply out, awful you are at the sports, he dropped the ‘I want my daughter to be athletic’ narrative he was going for. That being said, you rarely attended any of the games Jamsil athletes participated in. But seeing as you were assigned to cover the basketball games this season, you had no other choice. Besides, your “boyfriend” was playing. 

That’s how you found yourself at the gym of Jamsil, stressed as you took pictures and typed down the game on your phone. Frustrated, you sat on the bench behind you as the bell rang, signaling the end of the first half. As you read the draft on your notepad, you shook your head at the numerous times you used the word ‘tackle’—in your defense, it was all that you could see during the game. It was a particularly brutal game which made you wonder, was the game something more personal for the players? You only heard rumors, after all.

With a sigh, you made a mental note to fix the notes once you’re home. Standing up, you placed the phone inside your jeans’ back pocket and readied the Times’ camera to capture the ‘Half-time huddle’ that Bang Chan, the Sports Editor, had specifically asked you to take. As you made your way towards the basketball team, you took some shots of the audience as well as the Jamsil’s Cheerleading Team performing in the middle of the court. The blaring music and loud cheers from both schools as the cheerleaders performed filled the entire gymnasium, unconsciously making you smile. It was not everyday that you saw some sort of unity at your uni.

You focused your camera on the huddled team of Jamsil but dissatisfied, you tried another angle. Bang Chan’s words play in your mind: “The half-time huddle is one of the most important shots during these games, Y/N. The play they’re setting up will either make them or break them. Make sure you capture it.”

Then, the idea hit you. You hurriedly made your way on the other side of the team, hearing Coach Song’s booming voice telling his players the game even with all the screaming and cheers. You moved the towels and water bottles on the bench aside, then you stepped on it and placed the camera above the huddled team. Smiling, you knew you found the perfect angle. Making sure that the camera was focused, you inhaled deeply and as you were about to click the shutter button—a face turned to face the lens and a gasp escaped your lips, shocked and you felt yourself losing balance. Bracing for impact, you clutched the camera tightly against your chest and closed your eyes with one thing in mind: If this breaks, I am so screwed.

It felt like eternity as you waited for the impact. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of round brown eyes, staring at you in concern, eyebrows furrowed. Your breath hitched in your throat as realization hit you. Around your waist, you felt strong arms supporting you; hot breath fanned your face and you felt something liquid dripping on your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay?” When he spoke, you immediately snapped back to reality and you wriggled yourself out of his grip—flustered and ground-swallow-me-up embarrassed. Your cheeks were burning as you collected yourself. “Y/N?”

It was as if the entire gymnasium had their focus on you and Jungkook. 

“Jeon, what the fuck, get back here,” Coach Song hissed.

Fuck me, you thought as you cleared your throat. “Thanks,” you whispered to him. 

Jungkook smiled—the boyishly charming smile that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. Then, he did something that made you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Wish me luck, babe,” Jungkook said before wrapping his tattooed arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek. “The game’s on, Y/N. No turning back now.” 

You wished this was real. His kiss was real. But even if it wasn’t, indeed, there was no turning back now. The game had begun. 

PART TWO

As predicted and expected, Jamsil won the championship. But instead of the student body celebrating the fourth championship in a row, apparently, the majority could only talk about you and Jungkook—specifically the kiss he gave you on the cheek. You had expected this, of course. After all, Jeon Jungkook was Jamsil University’s golden boy. He was popular, smart, and overall, an exemplary student who not only excelled in his sports, but in his academics as well. Moreover, he was also the president of the photography club. 

What you didn’t expect was Taehyung lashing out at you. You expected him to be confused, baffled, in disbelief, but lashing out at you? You were confused, to say the least. Taehyung had never done it before. 

After finishing covering the basketball game, you hurriedly made your way back to the Publication Office. Once there, you took off the camera around your neck, breathing heavily. With both your hands on your table, you hung your head low, squeezing your eyes shut, and letting yourself calm down. It was during this moment that the door at the office swung open and your cousin stepped in. 

You looked at him over your shoulder and for the first time, you saw fury in his eyes. 

“You’re dating Jungkook?” He asked. “Tell me the truth.” 

With your lips pressed tightly, you nodded. Taehyung scoffed, tilting his head to the side, and shaking it in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? You and Jungkook?” He pressed, taking a step towards you. “When did it start? How did it start? Why are you dating him?” 

“I don’t really need to explain myself to you, Taehyung,” you told him. “Especially who I’m dating.” 

“Yes, you do. You need to explain that to me,” he retorted. 

“Why? Why do I need to explain it to you?” 

“Because you’re dating my fucking best friend and you’re my cousin!” He exclaimed, catching you off guard as you flinched. When he saw this, Taehyung’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I just—I don’t get it.” 

“What don’t you get?” you asked, turning to completely face him. “Why someone like me is with someone like him?” 

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean,” Taehyung sighed deeply. “I just feel like—like the two most important people in my life betrayed me.” 

You exhaled deeply. In a way, you could understand him. You could understand where he was coming from. But before you could respond, Jungkook appeared by the doorway of the office. 

“Don’t get mad at her, Tae, it’s my fault for not telling you first,” Jungkook said. He was still in his jersey, covered in sweat, and one hand holding a bottle of red Gatorade. There was a towel hanging around his neck. He walked towards you, and when he stood beside you, he held your hand. “I’m sorry if you feel like we betrayed you. We just wanted to find the right time to tell you.” 

“Right time,” Taehyung scoffed once more. “It didn’t look like it when you kissed her.” 

Jungkook squeezed your hand. It sent a jolt throughout your body. “What was I supposed to do? My girlfriend was there,” Jungkook’s response only riled Taehyung more. Upon seeing this, the basketball player said, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. But there’s nothing you could do or say that could make us break up, Tae. I’m sorry but you’re just gonna have to deal with it.” 

“Can you fucking leave? I need to talk to Y/N privately,” Taehyung hissed, rolling his eyes. 

This time, you cut Jungkook before he could reply. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’ll see you after.” You looked at your fake boyfriend, smiling at him. 

Jungkook looked like he didn’t want to leave so you squeezed his hand. He clicked his tongue, sighing. “I’ll change and meet you outside the building.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. 

You nodded and once again, he pressed his lips against your cheek, making you blush but now, out of embarrassment because your cousin was literally in front of you. Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back. “Leave, Jeon Jungkook!” He exclaimed, pulling him off of you. 

Jungkook chuckled before making his way out of the office. 

Once he was out of earshot, Taehyung stepped closer towards you. “Y/N, you’re right—who you date is not something I should mind or dictate. But you’re my cousin and I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt. Jungkook—he’s my best friend in the world and has been since we were little. I know him. So, the two of you together—I just can’t accept it.” 

You didn’t know why you were feeling angry as the seconds passed. “We’re not asking for your blessing, Taehyung.” 

“Y/N, you don’t understand. Jungkook may be charming and all that goody two shoes shit in front of everyone, but he’s trouble. You’re only setting yourself up for a lifetime of heartbreak,” your cousin shook his head. “Please. Date whoever you want; not just Jungkook.” 

“I made up my mind, Tae,” you said, shaking your head. “I want to be with him and you can’t do anything about it. I’m gonna go home. I’m tired and exhausted. I know you’ll be going to the afterparty so please don’t get yourself into trouble. Take care, Tae.” 

“Y/N,” he called out but you didn’t respond anymore. You just packed up your things. “Y/N, please.” 

“See you at home, Tae,” you gave him a small smile before leaving the office. 

Why was he so adamant that you don’t date Jeon Jungkook? This question popped in your head as you were making your way out of the Communications building. But you erased it in your mind—Taehyung was just shocked, probably weirded out too that his best friend and cousin were dating. 

Why is he trouble? Another question propped in your mind. 

You sighed deeply. All these questions would be answered when you meet with Jungkook as you made a mental note to ask him. For now, you just wanted to rest. 

The buzzing sound of your phone vibrating against your desk woke you up from your slumber. With a groan, you sat up, stretching your arms wide, cracking your neck, and letting out a relieved sigh. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but the last thing you remembered was fixing your planner. When you looked at the caller ID, Jungkook’s name flashed on the screen. For a moment, you were confused why he was calling you, and then it hit you. 

I’ll change and meet you outside the building. 

You quickly answered the call. “Jungkook, hey.” 

“Y/N, are you okay? I waited for you outside the Comm building, but Taehyung said you went home. I’ve been trying to reach you,” Jungkook sounded concerned, in contrast to the sound of cheering and music in the background. He must have been at the afterparty already, you concluded. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. I was just tired so I went home. Are you at the afterparty?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “The guys dragged me to it, but it’s not really fun. Or maybe I’m just not in the mood. I’m glad you’re okay though. I was worried.” 

Your heart fluttered yet again. 

“I’m okay. Have fun at the afterparty,” you said, rubbing your eye with your knuckle. 

“Y/N, I was hoping you could come tonight, here, at the afterparty, and start our agreement.” 

Just like that, you were reminded of reality. 

“Oh,” you replied, hoping you didn’t sound disappointed. “Um, I don’t know where that is.” 

It was common knowledge that invitations for after parties at Jamsil for championships were only through word of mouth. Not everyone was invited. The only reason you knew of the location of the last three after parties were because of, again, your cousin Taehyung. 

“It’s okay, I’ll come pick you up.” 

“I don’t know what I should wear. I don’t go to a lot of parties,” you said, playing with the loose thread on the hem of the shirt you were wearing. It was a habit of yours whenever you were nervous—you needed to play with something whether it was your necklace, earrings, rings, sleeves, etcetera. 

“It doesn’t matter. You look good in everything, Y/N. I’m serious,” Jungkook responded. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay? Don’t worry too much about what to wear. Just wear what’s comfortable.” 

“Okay. Drive safely, Jungkook.” 

When the phone call ended, you were reminded of what tonight would be, and gone were the worries about what you should wear. Tonight was going to be the night you were going to officially begin helping Jungkook take his revenge on Haemin. You felt like throwing up. 

You were hit by the reality, once again, of what this agreement was about. Jungkook wasn’t being sweet to you because he wanted to but because he needed to. He wasn’t inviting you to the afterparty because he wanted to but because he needed to. He was only talking to you because he was paying you. It was time for you to take things at face value. With that in mind, you began to change. 

True to his word, Jungkook arrived fifteen minutes later. It was a whiplash when you saw him at the door, waiting for you instead of your cousin. Wearing a white Calvin Klein shirt tucked under his washed jeans, black combat boots, and his curly hair parted in the middle, he was nothing short of beauty even in the simplicity of his attire. In one hand, he was clutching a denim jacket. 

“Hey,” he greeted as soon as you opened the door. “You look great, Y/N.” 

You suppressed the urge to smile and just nodded. Stepping outside of Taehyung’s condominium unit, you avoided his gaze. “Let’s go.” 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, clutching the strap of your messenger bag. “Everything’s fine. Let’s just go. Where’s the afterparty anyway?” 

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s hand found its way gently around your wrist, stopping you on your tracks. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, Jungkook. I just really wanna get over this,” you said with a sigh. 

“I don’t believe you,” he pointed out, still holding onto your wrist. “We don’t have to go to the afterparty if you don’t want to.” 

“No, let’s go. Otherwise, how will you make Haemin jealous?” you stated, plastering a smile on your face even though you were anything but happy. “The sooner she gets jealous, the sooner she will want to be with you again, and the sooner I’ll get my deposit, and move out from here. The sooner everyone wins.” 

There was an indescribable expression on Jungkook’s face. Although his grip on your wrist remained gentle, you could feel the tension brewing between the both of you. 

“You’re right,” he muttered after a while. “Let’s get this over with.” 

As expected, the afterparty was at a club. You hadn’t been to one but it was exactly as you expected a club to be. Packed with dancing college students, drinks everywhere, smoke in the air, suffocating you the moment you entered the establishment, blinding red, blue, green lights, and booming EDM and Top 40 hits songs blasting on the speakers. Jungkook led the way, holding your hand tightly, and you held his just as tight. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you guessed that it was where Haemin would be. After all, she was the reason why you were here. 

So, it was a surprise when you passed by her and her friends, and toward the staircase. 

“Jungkook! Where are we going?!” you yelled over the loud music. . 

Jungkook didn’t respond, but you knew that he heard you because he pulled you closer to him. And you let him lead you because it was him. You’d let him lead you anywhere if it meant being this close to him. Because no matter what you tell yourself—that this was all fake and pretend and paid—a part of you would always, always believe that he, in some way, reciprocated your feelings sincerely. 

Jungkook passed by the people greeting him along the way until, finally, you reached the empty rooftop. Overlooking the city and its skylines, it was simply breathtaking. There were only broken benches, bottles of beers and discarded cigarette buds on the rooftop along with cracked pots of withered flowers. Here, Jungkook let go of your hand, reached for something from his denim jacket’s pocket—a pack of cigarette and lighter—and offered it to you. 

“I don’t smoke,” you simply stated. It was news to you that he smoked. You knew athletes were forbidden due to health reasons, but you weren’t also naive that you didn’t think some did. 

He nodded, picked one from the box, placed it in between his lips, lit it up, and began to smoke. You took a deep breath, and made your way toward the edge of the rooftop. Moments later, Jungkook was beside you. 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said, the smell of cigarette strong, making you nauseous. But you didn’t tell him that. 

You thought hard. Jungkook knew nothing about you besides being Taehyung’s cousin. It shouldn’t be that hard but it was, for some reason. And so, you said, “There’s really not much that you should know.” 

To which he replied, “Oh, come on, there must be something,” He nudged your side slightly, letting out a chuckle as he took a long drag. “Don’t think too hard. Just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.” 

And so, you did. Before you knew it, you said, “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.” 

“Seriously?” Jungkook asked, but it wasn’t in the disgusted, you’re-in-your-twenties-and-yet-you-haven’t-kissed-somebody kind of way. It was more of a genuine shock. Like it was the hardest thing in the world to believe in.  

You chuckled, nodding. “I don’t know. I just feel weird about it.” 

“But were there any instances where you came close to kissing somebody?” he pressed, flicking his cigarette. 

“Of course, but when it came to it, I just couldn’t. It just didn’t feel…” you trailed off, unsure of what the right word was. 

“Right?” Jungkook suggested and you nodded. “I see.” 

“How about you?” you asked. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

“I want to be somebody’s first kiss, and that somebody happens to be you.” 

He was the only one who could do it—cause your heart to do somersaults inside you while also making it beat so fast that you were afraid he would hear it. It was the way he stared at you at that moment, eyes flickering from your eyes which reflected the cityscape below you and the smoke from his cigarette to your parted lips, unsure of what to say from his revelation. 

“Do you think it’d feel right if I kiss you, Y/N?” 

And like always, your mind and heart screamed: this was Jungkook. Who else would you want to be your first kiss? Since you were thirteen, you had been in love with him. You only imagined this in your head, in your wildest dreams. 

And so, you nodded, afraid that if you spoke, no words would leave. 

Jungkook nodded too, and he crushed his cigarette on top of the edge of the rooftop. He stepped towards you, cupped your face, and for a moment, the world stood still. Closing your eyes, you waited for his lips to crash onto yours. 

And when it finally did, it was nothing that you had ever imagined. 

No sparks. 

No fireworks. 

It was simple, mundane, ordinary—it was a kiss. 

You held onto Jungkook’s wrists as he deepened the kiss, and yet, there were still none of the romantic aspects that you thought would happen during your first kiss. Even when Jungkook moved his hands from your face and around your waist, nothing. It tasted so bitter due to the mix of nicotine and beer that he had. 

But you didn’t mind. You were kissing Jeon Jungkook, your fake boyfriend, at a party, where all his peers were. And for that, your first kiss was still memorable. 

Oh, how Jeon Jungkook twisted your world. 

PART THREE

You had no recollection whatsoever of what happened last night; much less how you got back to your shared condominium unit with Taehyung. But if you were to guess, your cousin probably brought you home as you vaguely remembered him being at the afterparty—much to his chagrin that you came with his best friend. Other moments were like missing puzzle pieces. You only remembered flashes, and you groaned when you felt the throbbing in your temple became stronger. 

Usually, you could hold your liquor better than this. In fact, this was the first time, in a long while, that you could remember having a hangover. Your mother was your drinking buddy—started drinking with you when you were a junior in high school, and although she shouldn’t have done that, you didn’t mind. Your mother was a great mother. Your mother was your best friend. Your mother was a great parent. Yes, she had her shortcomings, but who didn’t? Certainly not you. You remembered the first time she asked you to try Soju, and subconsciously, it brought a smile to your face, and a low chuckle to escape your lips. You made a mental note to text her later.  

As you left your bed, there was a knock on your bedroom door. Knowing it was your cousin, you told him to come in while you fixed your bed, and looked for your phone in the process. 

“Your phone’s in your bag,” Taehyung muttered as he stepped inside your room, and leaned against the wall of the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “I brought you home too. Jungkook wanted to, but he rode a motorcycle, and you were wasted. It wasn’t safe.” 

You nodded in understanding. You figured out that much. Like what Taehyung said, your phone was indeed inside your bag. Quickly, you unlocked it, and checked your notifications. Some were just annoying spam emails, app notifications, and automated messages from your SIM provider, but there was one message that made your heart beat quickly due to panic that you didn’t even notice Jungkook’s message. 

“Y/N, I need to talk to you,” Taehyung said. 

“We will talk, but not right now, I’m late for my tutoring session, Tae,” you hurriedly told him as you texted your tutee that you would be late, but that you would come since it was his midterms next week. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I still don’t approve of you and Jungkook dating.” 

You should have expected this. In the years you spent with Taehyung, you should have known that he wasn’t the type of person who could accept “no” as an answer, and not getting what he wanted when and if he wanted it. You thought it only applied to everything else in his life; apparently, it also applied to your dating life. 

“Taehyung, haven’t we gotten over this? Who I date is not yours to dictate,” you shook your head, sighing deeply as you gathered everything you needed for your quick shower. You were definitely not going to attend your tutoring session dressed from last night, and smelling like beer and nicotine. 

“Jungkook’s a piece of shit as a boyfriend, Y/N. He’s crazy possessive and he gets so fucking jealous. His charming persona is just that—a persona. I don’t want you to get hurt by him, Y/N, please.” 

The desperation in his voice was evidently obvious. When you looked at him, you were unsure of what to say. How could he say that to his own best friend? 

“If he’s like that—,” 

“He is like that,” 

“Then why are you still friends with him?” you asked, pointedly. When Taehyung couldn’t give you an answer, you nodded. “Right. I thought so. I’m going now, Tae. This conversation is over.” 

When you arrived at Jamsil’s library, you were forty five minutes late to your session with Yang Jungwon, a freshman from your program, Journalism with a major in Investigative Reporting. You found him in your usual spot, writing away on his yellow pad while nodding his head along the music he was listening to. Inhaling deeply, you made your way toward him. When you were finally near him, you tapped on his shoulder, causing him to jump a little, but when he saw you—his deep dimpled smile appeared on his face. 

Yang Jungwon was like the little brother you never had but wished you had. You felt bad for thinking that way because you had Taehyung, but as stated, looking after him felt more like a responsibility you had no other choice but to take upon. With Jungwon, even though you were paid to help him with his studies, it never felt like a responsibility to you. You enjoyed spending time with him, helping him out, and sometimes, if the conversation steered into the direction, you enjoyed your deep and meaningful conversations with him. 

You smiled back at him, and took the seat beside him, sitting on it. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Jungwon. You can tell your mom that she doesn’t need to pay me for this session.” 

He shook his head. “No, noona. It’s okay. I didn’t mind the waiting. I got to use it to answer your mock tests.” 

“Really? Let me see. What did you answer first?” you asked, taking your messenger bag off of your shoulder, placing it on the table. 

“The Contemp—,” Jungwon began to say, but then he stopped, which caused you to tear your gaze away from the mock test in your hands, and to your tutee. You followed his gaze, and to your surprise, you saw Jungkook sitting across from you and Jungwon with a gentle smile on his face. He had his lip ring on—it was the first thing you noticed about him that day. 

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. Why did it feel like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to do? Why did you suddenly feel anxious? 

Taehyung’s words rang in your ears: He’s crazy possessive. His charming persona is just that—a persona. 

Was all of it true? Was that the reason why he was here? Because you were with another guy? 

“I guess you didn’t read my message, babe,” he chuckled. “I told you not to buy lunch anymore because I cooked some for you. Here, you can share it with your friend…” he trailed off, politely smiling at Jungwon. 

“H-Hello, I’m Yang Jungwon,” Jungwon stammered, starstruck that Jamsil’s golden boy was talking to him. 

“Hello, Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you. You can just call me hyung,” Jungkook turned to you. “I’ll get going now, okay?” He pushed the lunch box towards you. “Eat. There’s hangover soup in there too.” 

You gave him a look to which he grinned at. “Ah, don’t worry, Jungwon. She can tutor you even though she’s dr—,” 

“Okay, thank you, Jeon Jungkook,” you interrupted him, making his grin wider. You shook your head at him, but you couldn’t hide the blush coating your cheeks from his sweet gesture. Then, you wondered, as Jungkook took his leave, did he do the same thing to Haemin? 

“I didn’t know you and Jeon Jungkook hyung are dating,” Jungwon brought you out of your trance, gaze finally now upon him rather than the absent figure of Jungkook. 

“Yeah, it just happened,” you said to him. “But come on, let’s focus on your mock tests.” 

Yet despite saying that, you were the one who couldn’t focus because the only thing in your mind was: how did Jungkook know you were at the library? 

Taehyung’s words plagued your mind the entire day. Even while you were working, all you could think about was his words about his best friend. How could he say those things about Jungkook? Someone he’d been best friends with since they were little? Why was he so adamant about you not dating him? Taehyung usually kept a distance from your personal life, not even asking about your mother because he knew of the complicated relationship your family had with his family. So, why was he all over your case now that you were “dating” Jungkook? You couldn’t understand. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Although you confirmed with the library interaction that Jungkook wasn’t the possessive type, seeing as he just walked away after giving you the lunch box, and even let Jungwon call him hyung, there was still that nagging thought in your mind: what if Taehyung’s word held weight? What if they were true? 

You thought about it: if they were true, even when you were only fake dating, would he still be as possessive as Taehyung said he was? What happened for your cousin to even tell you something like that?  

Your thoughts were put on a halt when your manager called for your name. You worked as a part-time waitress at a restaurant called Rado. You used to be a full-time employee, but since you were in your last year of uni, you asked if you could still be employed on a part-time basis, and fortunately, your manager, Han Somin, agreed. 

“Yes, Ms. Han?” you asked as you entered her small office inside the employees’ locker room. 

“Y/N, hi, come inside, I just have something to tell you,” she said, taking her eyeglasses off, and kindly smiling at you. You nodded and did as told. “It’s nothing serious,” she continued, which alleviated the nerves sinking in your bones. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be part of this party we’re catering to on Saturday. It’s a listening party for an artist named J-Hope; he released a new album. Maybe you’ve heard of him.” 

You shook your head. “No, Ms. Han. But I’d love to be part of the staff. Where would it be held?” 

“It’ll be held at his label’s function room. I’ll send you the details, alright?” You nodded, then she dismissed you, and went back to work. 

Money had always been a sensitive topic for you. Growing up, you knew that you didn’t have a lot but you were comfortable due to both of your parents’ wages. Your father was a simple office man while your mother had her own small flower shop. They were able to provide for your basic needs and wants but when your father passed away—your mother’s earnings at the flower shop weren’t sustainable. Hence, at an early age, you learned how to look for jobs, and learned the value of money and earning it. Hence, the reason why, besides loving Jungkook all your life, you simply could not half-ass fake dating him because it was innate in you that when you do a job, you give it your hundred percent. 

Part of you wished you didn’t have to worry about your finances. That, like other students at Jamsil, you could have fun and enjoy college life without worrying if you would still have a roof over your head eve though you failed an exam or if you would still be able to eat the next day if you buy a food late at night because you were so hungry that you couldn’t sleep. 

Having money meant having freedom to do all the things that you wanted to do—and you weren’t free. Not yet, anyway, but moving to your own place was a start. That’s why no matter what people say, you would see fake dating Jeon Jungkook through because whether you liked it or not—he was the key to your freedom. 

Saturday rolled around quickly. Adorned in your Rado’s uniform—a simple white linen long sleeve polo shirt, black slacks, black high heels, and your hair pulled back to show your face—you were already at the label’s function room preparing for the listening party of J-Hope. His music had been playing since you got there and you felt yourself being immersed and vibing to it that you made a mental note to check his other songs out afterwards. 

You were in charge of the food and drinks. Ms. Han was also present to supervise and with you was your co-worker, Kang Seulgi, and Kim Hanbin. It was an intimate type of party; hence, the small group of staff and catering. 

“I wonder who we’ll see here,” Seulgi told you as she placed the food fingers on the table while you poured drinks into the glasses. 

“I heard it’s just indie artists that J-Hope invited. It’s the target audience for his album, you see,” Hanbin piped in, fixing his necktie. 

“Whoever it is, I’m sure—,” 

“Kim Y/N, it’s nice to see you here,” 

You only heard that voice a couple of times but you wouldn’t mistake it for another. It was ingrained in your mind so deeply. It was the voice of the person you hoped was you for a long time—who got to touch, kiss, hug, care, and love Jeon Jungkook for four years. It was the voice of the person who was Jeon Jungkook’s first love, and most likely still loved. It was the voice of the person that was never going to be you in his life. It was the voice of: 

“Lee Haemin.” 

PART FOUR (a sneak peek)

“Lee Haemin.” 

In one word, she was beautiful. Dressed in a small black dress with thin straps and a pair of black heels, her silky black hair pulled back, showing off her idol-like face, Lee Haemin was just a sight to behold. Smiling at you, she took a step forward. 

“Is it okay if we talk?” she asked. 

As though you were hypnotized, you nodded wordlessly. A part of you already knew what the talk would be, or at least that’s what you thought. Nodding back, Haemin smiled at Seulgi and Hanbin before leading you out of the function room and somewhere more private. She opened a door leading to what seemed like the conference room, and gestured that you enter first so you did. She followed in suit, and you took a short time to look at your surroundings. 

It was all white with an oval table in the middle and black swivel chairs surrounding it. Adjacent to you were the ceiling to floor windows, showcasing the city landscape. Connected at the top was a projector and on the left side was a projector screen. You wondered how Haemin got access to such room, and as though reading your mind, she said: 

“My family owns a stock, if you’re wondering why I got access to this room. We can pretty much use any room in the company.”

Nodding your head, you turned to face her. “I see. That’s great. I didn’t know that.” 

“Not many people do,” she answered. “But that isn’t really why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I know,” you replied. “You wanna talk about Jeon Jungkook.” 

Haemin smiled. “I heard you’re dating him.” 

“From who? Taehyung?” You knew they were friends. Not exactly close, but they were acquainted due to Jungkook. 

She shook her head. “From Jungkook." Stunned, your mouth parted ways a little. Haemin smiled. "Surprising, I know, but it truly was him who told me that he was with you." 

"Why would he say that to you?" 

"Because he loved me first." 

And it was the truth. The truth hurts but it was the truth nevertheless. You weren't the first person he ever loved, ever had a deep and humane connection with. Everything about your relationship was a lie, a cover up. Theirs was true and real. Jungkook loved Haemin; not you.

Forcing a smile upon your face, you answered, “He loves me now. I don’t see the point of having this conversation, to be honest.”

“No, he doesn’t love you, Y/N. He wants you. Those two things are different,” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Hence, Haemin continued, “Loving someone lights up your world. Wanting someone, now that’s a different thing. To want something is to own it.” 

“And your point? Jungkook wants to own me?” Even your words sent shivers down your spine. You loved Jungkook since you could remember. But did you want him to own you? 

“Yes,” she replied. “Jungkook’s the type of person who gets and gets and gets and never likes to not have what he wants, what he needs. I’m telling you all these because prior to him dating you,” she smiled when she said ‘dating’ as though she knew it was only fake. “He lost me. Now he’s trying to get you to get me back, to own me again. But I don’t want that anymore. I don’t love him anymore. Don’t trap yourself. Get out as early as you can.” 

You didn’t know what to say. So, you did the only thing you could do: walk away. But then Haemin called your name, and you stopped on your tracks, looking at her over your shoulder. “Don’t let love blind you, Y/N. I know you’ve loved him for years, but he’s only going to break you—mind, body, soul.” 

“Thank you for the advice, Haemin,” you told her. “But I didn’t need it. Please respect my relationship with Jungkook. Thank you and enjoy the night away.”

author’s note: hey guys. again, so sorry for deactivating all of a sudden. i know this isn’t much but i hope having a sneak peek into chapter four brought you a bit of joy and excitement. feel free to send me asks regarding burnout and other things. see you in price of freedom next. i’ll be posting it again on tumblr for easy viewing but it’ll also be on hold for the time being. thank you and much love, aika. 

#yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fics #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #yandere bts #jeon jungkook #yandere jeon jungkook #burnout by aikastales #aikastales

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - All I Need

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader requested: yes / no a/n: i haven't written a long one-shot in awhile but i really like this one! requests are open. word count: 1k

tw: bullying

masterlist ask box

You didn’t usually let it bother you; the whispers, staring, and anything else the other girls did. It wasn’t as bad when Taryn was at a game but those were far and few between lately so you had to endure it by yourself. It was different today though. Maybe it was because you had a fight with Matt before the game and let yourself dive into his comment sections on Instagram on any photos of the two of you. There were always nice ones, but the nasty ones were nasty. You know Matt spends hours reporting accounts and blocking them despite you telling him not to bother. People would find a way to criticize your relationship regardless of how many accounts he blocked. 

It was how your argument that morning started. He was eating breakfast while you fed the cat, scrolling through Instagram and frowning. You knew right away what he was upset about and walked to where he was sitting and put a hand on his arm so he would look at you.

“They don’t bother me,” you lied but he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of "well it should”, so you dropped your hand and walked away. You went to sit down in the living room to watch something and heard him cleaning his plate a few minutes later before he joined you on the couch. He was quiet but didn’t have his phone anymore so you thought that he was done with it. 

“I could delete my Instagram,” he said suddenly, as if that was the solution to stopping the criticism. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you said. “Wiping yourself from social media doesn’t stop the mean girls. They’re at games too.” 

The minute you said it, you winced. You had been pretty good at not letting him know that the bullying was not strictly online. Taryn was nagging you to tell Matt exactly what was happening at games, but you didn’t want him worrying about it. You could ignore the things the girls said and just focus on the game.

Most times.

“What are you talking about? People are saying things to you at games too?”

You shrugged, ignoring his attempts at getting you to look at him.

“Girls like you, okay? They don’t think I’m good enough for you so they make comments.” You hesitated, but told him the same lie you always did. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said and you groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, like a parent confronting their child’s bully. I’ll pass, thanks.”

He argued with you for twenty minutes, saying that it would make things better if he confronted the other girls in the family seating area. It would just make it worse though, you knew it would. So in a moment of frustration, you told him if he talked to them, you wouldn’t go to anymore games. 

It was a lie, and you both knew it but the two of you were so annoyed with each other by that point, that he left for the rink early. He still had at least an hour before he should’ve left and it put you in a sour mood. Enough that you considered not going to the game that night, but in the end you pulled on your Tkachuk jersey and made your way to the arena. 

That brought you to this moment, listening to one of the girls purposely talking loudly about a bet they had placed on how much longer Matt would put up with you, despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for two years. You’d heard whispers about why he hadn't proposed yet multiple times, but you were able to ignore that because you and Matt had a serious talk about marriage and the fact that you wanted to wait a bit longer. 

“He can do so much better,” one of them said and you bite your tongue, knowing that saying something will just feed into their fantasy. You’re not sure exactly what it is, besides their wishes for you and Matt to break up. 

“Yeah, I mean just look at her.” 

It takes everything in you not to turn around and say something to them but the game ends so you get up and leave. You’re not sure if Matt knows that you came to the game because you hadn’t texted him so you go down to meet him near the locker doors. The security guy nods when you flash your ID but you come down here so often that he knows you. 

The Panthers lost, so you know Matt will be in a crooked mood but you still want to see him. While you’re waiting, the guys slowly trickle out of the locker room, nodding at you. 

Finally, Matt walks out and stops short when he sees you. He wasn’t expecting you to come to the game tonight at least because of your fight so you give him your best attempt at a smile. 

There’s a ten second pause before he walks over and wraps his arms around you and holds you gently. You’re pretty sure you stand there for at least five minutes before you pull away.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love that you’d delete all your social medias, that you’d give the mean girls a lecture, and that you spend hours blocking and reporting accounts that say mean things about me.” You kiss him, smiling when he chases after you when you pull away. “But I promise, if it ever gets too much, I’ll tell you. I’m working on ignoring what everyone says, but in the meantime, all I need is you.” 

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

He pulls you into another hug and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

“Also, I was totally considering slapping one of them silly tonight,” you say and you can’t see his face, but you know he’s grinning.

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x y/n

[cosmiccgloom]

please I need to vent I’m sorry can’t keep it in

I’ve been very close friends or even best friends with this girl for like 4 years but she’s starting to treat me so fucking weird and I swear it’s because of insecurity cause there’s no other reason she could be doing this

okay so she started acting different when a guy she was friends with (and I mean friends, she never said she liked him, in fact she was in love with another guy at the time) kept telling her that I was pretty whenever she would post a picture with me or something, now I’m not interested in the guy at all and she knows that, but at one point he followed me on my public photography instagram account (I have another personal private one) and I followed him back cause I follow everyone back on that account, and he went and bragged to her that *I* was the one who followed him first and she came and asked me if it was true, so I got the vibe that she was bothered by it and unfollowed him immediately, and thought that was the end of that, right?

well then I noticed that she deleted any photos we had together on her instagram, removed the highlight that was for pictures of us and our other 2 friends, and although we usually all post each other on our stories for our birthdays, on my birthday she kept making excuses on how she couldn’t find a good picture of us (we have so many pictures together lmao) and I was like it’s fine you don’t have to, and I really wasn’t upset at all until like 3 days later when she posted 2 of her other friends (whom she has known for like months?) on their birthdays, one of them she even posted just the girl’s picture on her own, so that would’ve been an option if she really wanted to? so that pissed me off, I know it’s silly but I literally always go all out on her birthday so it hurt me, in fact she literally told me like a month before my birthday to forgive her if she “forgot” to post a story for my birthday cause “she’s really bad at remembering dates”.. so that clearly was premeditated lmao

anyways it’s not even just that, we used to always like each other’s stories and reply to them and she stopped doing that like months ago, I kept doing it cause I was like obviously she didn’t stop intentionally but then she literally stopped replying to my story replies hyping her up and started just liking the messages💀 girl do I look like a fan??

so yeah at this point I’ve been trying so hard to not take things to heart cause it seemed silly and I really love her and don’t wanna ruin our friendship but idc anymore I’m just gonna treat her the way she treats me from now on

[fortunatelycooltrash]

hello! sorry if this is annoying and feel free to ignore me if this is a question you get a lot but I was curious if you are the author of "The Judge's choice" on AO3.

I was feeling nostalgic a few days ago and wanted to re-read the fics that got me into fanfiction in the first place so imagine my surprise when I can't seem to find this fic in my bookmarks nor on the author's ao3 page. Anyhow, long story short, I went on a 4 hour investigation spree looking for the fic and stumble upon this post on your blog (https://www.tumblr.com/fortunatelycooltrash/190283589313/where-can-i-find-the-fanfic?source=share) that seemingly has the link i'm searching for but when I enter it doesn't work. So yeah, I think the work might be deleted and I wanted to know whether it was conscious choice on your part because this fic meant a lot to me and it would be a pity for it to be lost but at the same time I respect if that is your final decision for whatever reason (you already provided so many great works to the site that I can't really ask for more, y'know?).

I know this is old and that what I’m about to say is somewhat not relevant to your ask but it will answer your questions and hopefully anyone else that travels over from my ao3 account.

While I don’t plan to permanently be away, hardly anyone ever does. I didn’t shut off my laptop one day and decide I hated my stories and didn’t want to write them anymore, but life has a funny way of making writing funky cat stories sit on the back burner and then you turn around and it’s been years. The troubles I mentioned in my notes were not the worst ones to come and they never quite ended, there’s always a fire to put out somewhere and usually it burns out my motivation before I can put it out.

While I do understand people loved the story, the truth is that I really, really, don’t and I hate that stupid 15yr old me put it out for everyone to read without even polishing it. Even when I tried to revamp it, it would essentially be rewriting it which was too big a project for me to take on with everything else in my life.

It’s writing is bad to me and it embarrasses me for it to be public in any form, hence why comments that try and post links to downloaded versions or the way back machine are deleted from any other work they comment on. I can’t stop people from having these and, frankly, I don’t mind whoever has them having them <privately> but I prefer it to not be posted all over a Small Flame or A Snuffed Spark which are works that I was actually kind of proud of.

I know the intent is not malicious or disrespectful but to me it is. If I wanted the fic all over my profile, even when I’ve stepped away from it, I’d not have taken it down. The works I’m comfortable with being public are the ones I’ve allowed to stay up.

If you have a copy of it, or can find a copy of it, that does not bother me but please do not post it on my other works. I don’t want it on my profile or reposted on the site at this moment.

I may rewrite it someday into something more polished and, for god’s sake, <spell checked> but for now that project is the last thing on my mind. I’d most likely continue A small flame before anything else.

#warrior cats #warriors #warriors au #wc

[11queensupreme11]

ik jjk is taken place a couple years back but do you think yuta and hime would be the type to make couple tiktoks together? and if everyone had tiktok what kind of things do you think they’d post?

lmaooo sometimes I forget that jjk takes place in 2018 so I accidentally make references to current-day memes in some chapters... Let’s just pretend that tsunami takes place in an au where tiktok and other 2020s memes are popular during that time 👍

I’ve seen some couple tiktoks before, but they’re like... the cringy kind that I don’t see Hime or Yuta doing. Hime has no idea how tiktok works and yuta didn’t even have a tiktok account because he was a loser before high school BUT after becoming a student in jujutsu tech, he probs became more up-to-date on social media stuff. 

Yuta’s tiktoks would consists of videos of his friends doing stupid shit and just generally having fun together. He probably did TRY to post a tiktok of him and Hime on a date, but got triggered af when he started seeing thirst comments about his girlfriend 💀 so since then, he no longer posts videos like that 💀💀

Hime had to get EXTENSIVE LESSONS on tiktok and how to stay safe on it because girl just... has no idea how to handle anything on phone-related 💀 like Yuta, most of her vids consist of her and her friends. But the videos that are really popular are tiktoks and lives of her swimming underwater and getting close to all the animals there. The reasons those vids are so popular are because 

hot girl in a bikini. duh. 

cool sea creatures!!!

SHE SWIMS WITH SHARKS AND ISN’T SCARED????

These videos also attract a lot of conspiracy theorists because while she’s careful not to speak underwater, she kinda forgot that people can’t actually stay underwater for so long without an air source. Ever since her first live tiktok that lasted over 5 minutes of just her exploring the sea WITHOUT GOING UP FOR AIR, people have been theorizing that she’s a mermaid of some sorts... 💀💀

(her friends definitely have a great laugh over it tho while megumi’s shaking his head over how adorably dumb his senpai is)

Okay as for everyone else now... 

Maki: she mostly uses it for viewing but she does have a few videos of just her spilling the tea about her toxic family. She doesn’t get into TOO much detail, but she tells ppl that they’re hella racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, and doxxes them to her followers. Naoya hates her for this because now his comments are full of angry feminists who call him out on his stupidity and he’s too dumb to counter back at them with actual logic 💖

Nobara: shopping tiktoks. happily shows off all the luxury clothes she bought with the stipend the school gives her. Ppl believe she’s a socialite and she doesn’t bother correcting them

Megumi: nothing. he’s boring. 

Yuji: poor boy’s gotten his account banned and taken down so many times because Sukuna keeps taking over his body and making tiktoks of him saying the most nastiest slurs and getting into fights with feminists in the comments 😔

Panda: he posted a tiktok of himself ONCE and deleted his account after the furry community started sending him horny messages 

Inumaki: All of his videos are of him terrorizing pranking his friends and other unfortunate people who come across him. None of his followers can understand a single thing he’s saying, but they don’t care because he’s cute and his pranks are funny 

Gojo: Aside from his daily lip care routine, he also posts old embarrassing videos that he took of Megumi when he was a kid. He also has a shit ton of videos of Hime that got him permanently banned from tiktok since a lot of people began suspecting him of pedophilia and his reply to it was to make a video of him and an oblivious Hime eating out together with the caption “age is just a number 💖”. Yeah, bitch got cancelled real fast 

(things got even more heated when some people reached out to her on tiktok asking if she was dating Gojo and she was like “no, he’s my teacher???” Everyone was DISGUSTED by him 😡)

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| tsunami

[pashminalamb]

Seriously what is some peoples problem? It’s like they’ve never read more than one fanfic on their life before. Most story ideas aren’t original and we just interpret them differently and therefore write them differently. Even if they are similar, it doesn’t mean that it’s copied and pasted. It’s such a simple concept that isn’t that hard to understand. And if people have unasked criticism to give the least they can do is come off anon for some sense dignity. And this is absolute no hate to the other author, I love their works and I was just on their blog and saw the discourse so I came straight over, and they’re super chill about the misunderstanding with the readers. I think it’s just the readers that got offended on behalf of the author. But even though that’s the case, they really shouldn’t have pushed it so far as to start harassing you abt it, especially if the authors they’re defending already said something abt it. This makes me so mad because you talked about this fic for such a long time and we’re so excited to post it too. I can’t count even the number of times I’ve been criticized for something without any indication that I needed the advice. Writing wise or not. So I can understand your feelings a bit. I’m sorry this happened to you. Some people are just negative for no reason. If you do decide to delete the fic, that’s totally up to you, but if it were me I’d keep it up and delete any negative comments or asks about it just for spite. I’ll say it again, the fic was amazing and I loved reading it. *sends many comforting virtual hugs*

- ✨ anon

Hi starry!!! (o^^o)

Okay so first things first, I’m not ignoring you; for some reason you’re not turning up in the asks section of the app; just through the inbox on my pc and I was gonna answer your ask from yesterday-but I was really drained and I have other asks to respond to as well (I was screaming on the inside when I saw you come off anon but I’m saving my reaction to answer that ask and I thought of answering this one first)

I was feeling pretty low earlier mostly because the anon just assumed stuff abt me (that too on anonymous which is so contradictory) when I’m actually a really closed person here; just minding my business writing and creating content. And even now they sent an ask despite Zari stepping in and talking about it. What part of discourse settled do these people not get? There are a million questions and a million answers and rather than accepting the fic for the way it is, they just want to point out the flaws of it. And there are so many fics are similar! I literally spoke about my work getting paraphrased and plot lines that have been masked despite it being originally mine.

And why would I even copy paste an idea? Especially since I’ve gone through the same thing and didn’t appreciate it? And like I said even for Zari’s message; there are a lot of followers here that follow blue lock content blogs apart from mine. So if I had done that, they would have told me in my askbox or at least approached me through my side account.

And yeah I have talked abt this fic for a very long time. Over a week almost - cause I have these discussions with my friends who are into my hobbies as well. Jock x nerd! Girl reverse is such a mainstream thing to write and I took that route - and when we’re talking about nerds science isn’t the hardest thing to think about - and the more questions there are, the more justifications are needed and I don’t have to prove a point to anyone unless it has to do with the person directly associated with the problem (that has already been handled). Tumblr has its own writing prompts page and there are so many people who use it and their prefs coincide with that a lot - like people don’t even bother to think through these things before downright accusing me. (No one’s even gonna talk abt how I was one of the first authors to write for NNN and then the trend started when I was scrolling through latest fics for bllk?)

I wanted to delete the fic since this will leave a scar on my blog- already wants to change the name and pfp, and I can always create new ones but you’re right. I don’t think I will. Delete the comments and move on. And a lot of people liked the fic, cause there was Shidou and Kaiser as well; but then again- I know I’ll have bad memories of this. So I’m waiting for tomorrow or the next couple hours to see how everyone responds to this and maybe see then how it turns out.

I’m gonna be optimistic abt this cause there are a lot of wips and this was one of them.

(And secondly, you have no idea about how I cried a lil cause I thought my anons were gonna be disappointed in me and not wanna come back because of this chaos so I’m really happy to see you)

*koala hugs*

#Belle.☏ #.lost sheep : ✨ anon

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

I know you are probably sick of talking about the plagiarism, but I am so fucking scared of the whole situation. Like she is full on denying she ever stole and out here post the story again and planting you as a crazy bully that trying to keep down a small creator which is false. Her and her followers are like it’s a similar idea and with similar ideas and situations of course the words are the same, but no this is deadass a plagiarism. If I just write twilight and change the names to Edwin and Belle and make it set in London doesn’t make it any less Twilight. I have literally deleted all my fics because I don’t have the energy for this possibly happening.

Like how could people be so delusional and think this is not plagiarism. Like if it walks like a duck and talk like a duck. It’s a fucking duck.

And one of her followers were like. Of course it similar you were a fan you can’t just not remember things. And I’m like yeah you can remember something but you don’t have to switch up a few words and call it your own. Like if this was college or a job and she did this she would be fired.

Ah, it’s a weird one, nonnie - I’m not super bothered by the plagiarism thing anymore, but I owe that every time I answer an ask about it she’s going to hop online to call me names. Her latest one is ‘abuser’, I think. Lol, wild. “I plagiarised, so she’s an abuser for holding me accountable.” Definitely has to be a teenager!

I’m sorry this whole thing has made you so frightened; people really are the fucking worst, and that’s the part of adulthood that sucks the most. Realising that the scariest thing in the world is actually just other human beings is the worst discovery ever. I’m so sorry you’ve felt the need to delete your stuff - I hate that this person is contributing to the negativity of fandom so much. Eventually, she’ll get tired of her bullshit, and I’ll still be here doing what I love, which is writing. At least, I’ve locked down my work so that people can’t copy and paste it so easily (for the most part, anyway). If you want, I can link you to the stuff that helped me do that!

I hope that one day, you feel it’s safer to come back and post your own work again! When you do, I’ll cheer for you ❤️

#personal asks

[derangedthots]

Hiiiiiiiiii lovely writer author jacemond wife,

I hope you don’t mind me asking but I got curious about your writing process for FTF & CTF. Like you’re very much aware of where your fic is going what inspired it and already know what would be spoilers and what isn’t for us your in love readers. I hope it’s not a bother to ask and if you don’t wish to answer that completely understandable. I just wondered how you planned out the universe and plot for this ship so effectively and efficiently.

Also i can’t remember if you ever tagged it or not but was there going to be like angst in this fic? (Not asking for like tagging reasons but just because I wondered with Aemond’s personality we’d be getting dumb blond brooding and grandma Vhagar two days away from kidnapping Jace and Aemond to an island and flying away. Targaryens and their emotional constipation feelings about family)

Hope uni is treating you good and Jacemond treats you better!!!

hello my love😊🥰

it's not a bother to ask at all!! (though probably not that interesting to hear haha) i have an overactive imagination that has a tendency to make connections really quickly and if the material i'm working off of is anything based in fantasy, that ability only compounds lol. my brain will make large connections (i.e. major events i want to write/read) first while also running smaller details in the background and the longer i leave both to sit and marinate, the clearer the narrative becomes. it's all very chaotic by nature so i'll try to keep as much as i can organized on a good doc - since i can always delete certain plans later - and just keep reminding myself of where eventually i want the story to end up.

there's a lot of scene/plot planning that happens but i also try to leave myself a lot of room to play outside of stuff i KNOW needs to happen bc i don't want the fic to feel bogged down or like i'm just crossing things off a list. i mentioned in my ch2 author's endnote that i like giving my stories "room to breathe" bc i want them to feel organic rather than mechanical. hitting the right emotional beats is really important to me (what are humans if not highly-emotional beings after all, isn't that just terrible and beautiful?) so there's a lot of internal deliberation abt how characters would respond & react to certain things that i think abt every day in order to avoid the pitfalls of treating them less like complex people and more like hollow puppets on my strings. when i write, i aim to imbue my fics will life and life can lead us down unpredictable, frustrating roads haha

taking all that into account, it's pretty much why i don't have a set update schedule. i tried to do the monthly thing releasing the first ch of CTF a month after FMF but it became clear almost immediately that that wouldn't work just bc, by that point, the story had grown too large for me to tell it the way i felt it needed to be told in such a short time. plus uni responsibilities factors into it too and updates get postponed even longer than i would ever want them to (boo👎🏼👎🏼)

and research, a lot of research goes into me planning these fics lolol and often times bc i haven't read f&b i have to cross out ideas and change certain details i previously (incorrectly) believed and/or don't wanna keep

oof that was so much rambling again😂 but to answer your second question, for some reason i thought i already added the angst tag to CTF and clearly just forgot. ik you said you're not asking for tagging reasons but for me personally, it was v irresponsible of me considering jace has already had at least 2 panic attacks at this point and well...everything else. tagging my fics appropriately is important to me bc i never want to trigger anyone unnecessarily and i know we all have diff thresholds when it comes to how comfortable or uncomfortable we are with certain subjects. i'll add it here in a bit, thank you for reminding me!! it's esp. important bc yeah...there's definitely going to be more angst moving forward...no spoilers tho my mouth is sealed🤐😶‍🌫️

i hope life and jacemond treats you AMAZINGLY😚💕💕

#ask #💕💕 #also of course i remember you said that (abt jacemond as austen romance where aemond has to fix his own self) #it was one of my most favorite things to read ever and described my interpretation of them so well i squealed

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Hey bean, if you're having trouble with anons, I recommend turning off anon asks. That way they can be blocked easier, and can be held accountable for their words. Also, if they keep bothering you, just ignore/delete the asks. What they're looking for is a reaction out of you, so if you don't give them that, they'll likely go away

also here, have a potato ->🥔

:D

hope ur doin ok friendo

Yeah, I’m gonna be turning off asks pretty soon because of them. I also really don’t want my blog to be specked into one specific kind of questions/ask so yeah.

[hamtigers]

I’m making this vague just on the off-chance I am wrong, because I don’t want harassment falling on someone if my gut is wrong. I’m only making this post in hopes that it will let other people come to their own decisions if they encounter a similar scenario.

I received a DM from an account that has never interacted with me before now that also immediately followed me right after sending the DM and no other interaction whatsoever. This already kinda rubbed me the wrong way, bc it felt like they were following me JUST to monitor to see if I actually did what they asked in the DM or not, since they made no further interactions. The DM immediately opens up with an over-the-top apology for “bothering me” and asks me to look at their pinned post and to donate and/or signal boost the post with a reblog. Normally I’m more than happy to signal boost posts asking for help bc I myself am financially strapped, living paycheck to paycheck. But I’m already sitting there thinking man, them going to DMs of complete and utter strangers with no other interaction REALLY reeks of scammy behavior, since I know scammers will sometimes steal photos and/or make up stories to get donations under false pretenses. And then I finish reading the message, where they beg me to send them a reply privately with my answer to whether or not I’m going to help because they don’t want people thinking they are a scammer or a bot. So I check out the post, which was only a few hours old. I read it, but still feel uneasy about sharing it because of the previous red flags so I reverse image searched both cat images.

The oldest copy of both images was from a post back in april from a completely different tumblr user, that has an actual fully fleshed out blog with links to other socials and a DA gallery and everything, but it has since been deleted so I only had the timestamps thanks to google.  More usefully there was another copy of one image from a post 3 weeks ago on something called tumbig, which appeared to be a third-party tumblr viewer (like tweetdeck is to twitter) so I was able to trace it thru to the post on the actual tumblr blog. The post itself was word for word identical copy-paste except for the following: -the name of the cat -the estimated vet costs (twice as high on the new post!) -the date of their next payday -The paypal itself

So yeah, I blocked the individual so that they can’t monitor me and made this post.

#ham rambles #tbh the more I think about it the more I wish I had responded publicly to call their ass out

[fic-writer-and-enjoyer]

Beautiful thin(g)

Summary: "Every day was much worse than previous one. Your days were a blend of counting burned calories, steps, food and daily weighting. You measured time in lost pounds and skipped meals. Food, even more the lack of it was the only thing you thought about."

Pairings: Dean!Father x Daughter!Reader, Sam!Uncle x Niece!Reader

Warnings: Eating disorders, Bullying

A/N: "This story is very personal to me as a person who struggled with eating disorder. I hope this will help some of you with coping or comfort you in some way, like it helped me"

"I've posted this fic on my previous account but it got deleted, i've also rewritten it so i hope you all enjoy"

Word count: 3200ish

You were never bigger than your peers, maybe not much... You never really cared about your weight and always felt good in your body. Being self-conscious and having low self-esteem was never a problem that you had.

Although you had to admit that lately, you've gained some weight. Because you've only been eating out for the last couple of months. Putting on a few pounds wasn't a big deal for you.  Neither your dad nor uncle seemed to care about it. You've been going to the same school since you and your family have moved to the bunker. You've grown to like it and felt comfortable there, as much as a high school ever allows to be comfortable. 

You and your best friend talked about having crushes on different people from your school but you never openly admitted to having one. But you did. It was a silly high school crush on a junior that you haven't even talked to in person. Ashton was a typical jock, with a perfect jawline, perfect hair, and a big reputation. You've never even bothered to talk to him because you knew he wouldn't be interested in someone who isn't the hottest member of the school dance team.

One day you were sitting on a bench in front of your classroom with a book "The basics of Latin". Uncle Sam told you that you had to learn the next chapter if you wanted to go out with your friends next weekend. You knew that he wasn't joking, so you took up the task immediately.

You were so caught up in the book you didn't even notice a boy standing in front of you.

"That's some cool stuff you're reading..." You heard a voice so deep that it almost made you shiver. You instantly raised your head while closing the book you were so intensely scanning just a few seconds ago. When yours and his eyes crossed, you could feel the red, hot blush creeping on your face. It was him. Ashton.

"You're Y/N right?..." He asked as you were still in shock, being too stunned to even speak. You quickly shook your head and smiled politely. Keep it together, it's Ashton, the Ashton... Y/B/F/N isn't going to believe this.

"Yeah... and you're Ashton right?" you tried to keep your voice from shaking, your leg started already bouncing up and down as you saw him observing your face.

He smiled giving you one of the more flirty expressions you've seen him using on countless beautiful girls in your school.

"Wow... I just... I've been seeing you in the school for a little while now and... just wanted to say how beautiful you are" Your heart dropped to your stomach, you didn't even know what to say, you honestly don't know how you managed to stand up and put your things away while he made his confession.

"I... I think you're really handsome too, I've been meaning to tell you for a while..." You said it louder than you meant to and blushed even more while moving a loose strand of hair from your face.

"Oh really?" He asked more playfully this time, if it weren't him you'd think twice before revealing this to him but... just looking into his eyes, his deep dark eyes...

"Yeah... I've had a crush on you since I came to this school" You smiled and looked away waiting for his reaction.

Him laughing into your face was the last thing that you were expecting. It wasn't a playful, sweet laugh, it was bitter and deep. Your eyes widened as you saw him holding up his phone and playing your conversation back.

He recorded it.

"Oh..." He smirked " I didn't think that it would take a minute to get a love confession, and with so many details..." He said it with such disgust it made you tear up... That bastard, why would he say such a thing?

You looked at him with pure hatred written on your face. He chuckled looking at your pursed lips and turned up the volume on his phone so that everyone in the hall could hear your words clearly. A group of school's team players standing a few feet away from you started laughing bitterly and looking you up and down. You felt like throwing up at that sight.

"Oh Y/N..." He said your name so repulsively, almost spitting it out "You thought that I, would be ever interested in someone like you?" You felt your lip starting to tremble "Oh don't cry... you don't want to look even more disgusting, do you? If that's even possible" You started packing your books into your bag not looking him in the eyes. You wanted to get out of that hallway, from staring standbys and Ashton, especially from him.

"If I was you, I'd worry more about losing some weight than reading ancient crap. It isn't going to create you a whole lotta personality fatty..." he added as he knocked the Latin book out of your hands.

You felt burning tears gathering up in your eyes. No, you couldn't cry here, you couldn't give him that satisfaction. You quickly took your things from the bench and ran to the bathroom.

A kind of shame, pure pain, and regret that you've never felt before filled your whole body. It felt as if you were watching everything from far away. Closing the school bathroom door, running into one of the stalls, and shutting it so hard it almost broke the frame. You didn't even feel the coldness of the floor as you stumbled on it, crying your eyes out.

It wasn't a small cry like the one you get from watching a sad movie but sobbing and choking on your tears, the ugly kind of crying. You didn't even realize when the bell rang, you could've been there ten minutes or an hour, you didn't know and didn't care.

The pain started turning into hatred, hatred into sadness and pain, and it turned into pure anger again and again. You didn't know what to feel. Your friend wasn't at school today, you were alone. You felt like if you would stay here you would throw all of your breakfast and lunch up.

You felt miserable, the kind of miserable that eats you out inside. You didn't know how to make it stop.

At some point you've calmed down a bit and as you fell silent the whole room did too. Class must have already started. Good. You weren't going to go to the class right now. You felt like you couldn't even get up, let alone walk into the classroom. Your whole face was swollen and you could barely breathe through your running nose.

You had to get home. Now.

You had to come up with some way to get back into your room, you had to get out of here. With every second you felt like it was starting to get more difficult to breathe.

The first and honestly the only thing that came to your mind and made sense: nurse. After washing up your face with cold water and blowing your nose, you carefully got to the nurse's office once you barely avoided every teacher who has been monitoring the hallways.

***

Not even half an hour later you were on your way home with Sam. You prayed that your dad's brother wouldn't bother to ask you what happened and how you got this awful stomach ache you told the nurse about.

You could barely resist crying, so you stared out the window trying to hold in tears, you could feel your nose starting to burn again.

You still couldn't understand why Ashton would say such a thing to anyone. You were fighting with your thoughts since you got into the car, you still haven't said a word to your uncle who was behind the steering wheel. 'He probably realized that I had a crush on him, or someone else did and he used me to show off. As another material for one of his stupid pranks.' you thought and breathed heavily.

"Soo... What happen?" Sam asked, interrupting the awkward silence between you. He could see that something had happened and it wasn't just sudden stomach pain and migraine the school reported to him.

You only shrugged your shoulders without even looking at him. You were too tired physically and mentally to come up with any excuses or to argue again as you did already this morning.

"Y/N... "He pressed, you just exhaled and rolled your eyes. Not now.

"Nothing ... can you just leave me alone?"

"Y/N/N tell me ..." He took his eyes off of the road and looked at you with concern.

"Where is Dad?" You asked him trying to drop the topic"Why did you pick me up?"

"He's still busy working on this vampire case, one of us had to stay doing the research" 'Of course, it's the hunt...' you thought. He always tends to put it before you... 'Maybe he was ashamed of me and wouldn't come for me?' an awful thought passed your mind. After all, he hardly ever comes to your school, and it's usually Sam who takes care of stuff like this.

"That busy?" You asked overwhelmed by all the thoughts of your dad. Him picking up the phone from your school and being annoyed, not concerned or confused, annoyed and tired. That image made your stomach shrink

"That busy."

***

After half an hour of awkward silence and concerned glances from your uncle. you finally got to the bunker. As you stepped through the door you grabbed your stomach to get some more dramatic effect on your appearance. Maybe if you looked physically miserable your dad wouldn't notice your bloodshot swollen eyes and hoarse voice.

"Dean, we're back!" Sam shouted as you started walking down the stairs. Instead of always running up and hugging your father, you rushed into your room without paying attention to your father or uncle.

Tears blurred most of your vision as you stormed through the bunker's halls. When you ran into your room, you slammed the heavy door behind you and lingered to your bed sobbing.

Your stomach turning and head pounding made you immediately lay down and weep more. Your thoughts ran from bad memories to even worse ones. Your mind was filled with a constant replay of the hallway incident. You felt like trash, even less than that. Your thoughts switched from reliving today's conversation to your mother. You blamed yourself. Every time you remembered it made you fall into that endless spiral of regret. Now you felt like you were the reason that she pulled the trigger that day.

You pressed a pillow to your mouth trying to suppress another sob that this memory brought, but you started to cry even more.

"You okay kiddo?" You heard your father's voice and immediately held your tears back. You pulled your nose and before you could answer your worried dad came into the room.

"Yeah, I'm fine..." You wiped tears from your cheeks and pulled up your legs, embracing them.

"You didn't come back home because of that stomach ace didn't ya?" Your father slowly sat down next to you and stroked you on the back "What happened?"

"It's about mom " You lied with such ease that you surprised even yourself. You missed her sometimes, it's true ... But it never hit you like Ashton's words today. You felt like now it was easier to talk about this than to open up to your dad about what happened today. "Is it my fault? " Saying what you've been thinking for years made you break down even more.

"Of Course, not Bug, why do you think that..." Your dad's voice broke down a bit as he pulled you in and stroked your head.

"I'm just... if I wasn't born... sh-she would be still with us wouldn't she?" You realized letting tears slide down your cheeks.

Because when so many people hate you, maybe the problem is you not them.

Maybe you weren't lying to him anymore but to yourself.

"Don't say that she did what she did... and I don't know why, but I'm sure, I know that she didn't do that because of you."

"You sure?" You pulled your nose and looked him in the eyes

"I'm sure"

You smiled faintly and he kissed you on the forehead.

"Take some rest... and maybe you can stay at home until you feel better... Okay?"

"Okay..." You said before Dean left the room and you exhaled with relief.

After a few minutes of lying on the bed and looking at the ceiling, you approached your large mirror, the one you got from your dad for your last birthday. Seeing yourself in the mirror felt strange, wrong and made you feel sick. Maybe Ashton was right...

"Am I really that ugly?" You asked your reflection and went back to bed to cry for the rest of the day.

***

The next day you didn't eat anything, you threw away all the food you got into the trash cleverly avoiding eating with your father and uncle. Mostly because you didn't feel like it but also because of that tiny voice in your head, replaying what Ashton said.

Fatty

You even went to the store and bought a bathroom scale and some weights and a mat. A few times you got dizzy but you thought it proved something.

You could do it.

You were strong.

You could prove that douchebag wrong.

Every day was much worse than the previous one. Your days were a blend of counting burned calories, steps, food, and daily weighing. You measured time in lost pounds and skipped meals. Food, even more, the lack of it was the only thing you thought about.

Every calorie you've consumed, every comment from Ashton's friend group, you've written it down in your journal. As a testimony of some sort. A proof, that you could do it.

After two weeks of your 'diet', the bullying from the jocks stopped, as they've forgotten about the whole situation. But it didn't make you feel any better. At some point even though you deserved all that treatment, cause it was your fault wasn't it?

You had dark circles under your eyes even though you slept nine hours a day, you were still tired. No matter how much black coffee you drank every time you worked out you nearly fainted after 15 minutes.

During three weeks you dropped almost 25 pounds, of which half of the energy and the other of happiness.

You knew that your father and uncle noticed your weight loss, you could see their worried looks and hear the comments. Everything in your closet was too big for you at that point, so you only wore sweatpants and hoodies, you also hoped it would hide the massive difference in your appearance somehow.

That morning you went to the kitchen to drink some water. Every step you took felt so unsure and out of place, your legs felt like jelly and you knew any false step would make you fall.

When you came to the kitchen you smelled bacon and eggs, you saw uncle Sam and your dad preparing breakfast.

You must have looked like a vampire they were hunting because when Sam turned to you, the smile on his face turned into a worried grim.

"You okay bug?" Your father asked and you nodded. "We need to talk to you," he added as he stirred the eggs after a moment of silence. You felt your stomach shrink.

"Yeah?" You said as you sat at the counter next to Sam.

"When was the last time you ate?" You felt the world spinning around you. Your father glanced at your trembling hands as if trying to prove a point.

"Yesterday? I ate dinner with you" You tried to sound normal, even though your heart pounded more and more quickly in your chest.

"No you didn't, tell me when was the last time that you ate something?" Your father pushed. He was being too specific, something was off, but you knew you just had to play it cool.

"I told-" you stopped when you saw your uncle holding your journal. You looked at your father again... he knew, he probably read everything. Things that have happened since you came back home crying ... your weight track, calorie intake... everything.

Shame hit you like a bullet, fear filled your chest and you felt like you had something stuck in your throat. You looked down and admitted.

"Five days ago" you mumbled

You didn't want to look them in the eyes. You were already imagining their disappointment, your dad's screams. What will they do? Will they force you to eat? You already felt sick even smelling that bacon.

"Y/N" You didn't want to lookup

"Y/N... baby" You couldn't look into your dad's eyes. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you raised your head still not looking at your father.

"I'm not mad" he said and you finally decided to look at him. His worried teary eyes and soft smile made you crumble.

You broke down completely as you felt your father embrace you, gently pulling you to his chest, allowing you to let it all out.

"I'm- I'm sorry... I'm so sorry" you cried into his torso.

You didn't even know what you were apologizing for. Lying? Hurting yourself? Distancing from your friends and family? You knew you owed an apology.

"Hey, baby look at me," He said as his voice broke down, you looked at him again, allowing yourself to take in all the pain, worry, and guilt in his eyes. You knew he blamed himself, as you did for mom. And that has hurt you the most.

"It's not your fault" You nodded as he kissed your head "Not mom, not school, not what's been happening, none of this is you hear me?" You tried to blink away the tears to see his face better. "Nothing that these insecure, selfish, stupid son of a bitch kids said is true, you hear me?"

You let out a sob and nodded again. The weight on your chest felt a little lighter when your dad held you in his arms.

" You're strong, intelligent, and beautiful, and don't even try to deny it, 'cause you're goddamn Y/N Winchester" You chuckled as he almost shouted your name, he made it sound so special, so right. You felt like it had some kind of worth first time in a while.

" I know it doesn't feel like it right now, and it might not for a while" You turned to your uncle as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "It will take time, but you'll learn to see yourself as we do, you'll learn to know your worth" He smiled gently and you exhaled letting your breath calm down.

"And we will take it to step by step" Your dad added "Me, you and Sam, one day at a time." You chuckled as your dad kissed your cheek.

The pressure that has built up for weeks in your body became less and less terrible with each embrace.

One day at a time.

Masterlist.

#supernatural #imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural sister imagine #supernatural daughter imagine #dean #sam #dean winchester #sam winchester #oneshot #fic #Winchester #reader!sister #dean!father #reader!daughter #dean x reader #sam x reader

[denkithunder]

anonymous

last tweet | Tweet 8: Explain| next tweet

Summary: an anonymous twitter account starts revealing random secrets about the volleyball club members, starting with the first years.

He stared at his phone as you held it in your hand, your own phone occupying your other hand as you contemplated what you should do next.

“Know what?” You ask him as you set both phones down after you send one last text from your own phone, deciding a simple ‘i don’t believe you’ would be the best place to leave the conversation at.

“Know that someone downloaded an app that lets them see my text?” He was still confused.

“Know that someone downloaded an app that lets them see my text?” He was still confused.

He had spent so long trying to figure out what was going on, convinced he was being watched but had no way to prove it.

How did you figure it out so quickly?

“Last night, when you let me download that game on your phone?” You paused, making sure he remembered the moment you were talking about.

“Yeah?”

“Well, when I went to play it, I couldn’t find it. So I went to check the recently added in your app library and found an app that’s meant to let others see your text messages.” You scoot to the edge of your bed and reach under your bed to pull out a box.

“I recognized it because mom downloaded it onto my brother’s phone when we were younger, scared we’d start talking to strangers and get kidnapped.” You mumbled as you looked through the box, humming when you found the phone.

You plug in the phone to charge, turning towards Kageyama who seemed a bit confused.

“When he got a new phone, I got his. My mom told me to keep it just so she could make sure I was being safe, so I recognized the app on your phone immediately.”

The old phone lit up and you both stared at it as you watched it turn on.

Once it was on you opened it, scrolling until you found the app you were talking about and clicked on it.

“When you go through the app and try to change the settings, it alerts whoever it’s sending the messages to. Same things happens when you try to delete it.”

“Why can’t I just delete it? Everyone thinks I’m behind that account because of that stupid app.” He huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at the opened app on the old phone.

“We need to know who’s behind that account. I have a feeling I know who it is but I need proof. And they might stop if we delete the app.” You sigh, placing the phone on the nightstand next to your bed.

“Isn’t that a good thing? They’ll stop bothering us?” Once again, Kageyama was confused.

He thought getting rid of the account was a good thing.

“If it is who I think it is, then they’ll just find a new way to harass me.”

please do not repost/share my work on other social media without my permission

taglist: @netzukochannn @serowotonin @celcero

#hq smau #hq texts #haikyuu smau #haikyuu fake texts #haikyuu texts #hq fake texts #yamauchi texts #yamaguchi fake texts #yamaguchi smau #tsukishima texts #tsukishima fake texts #tsukishima smau #hinata texts #hinata fake texts #hinata smau #kageyama texts #kageyama fake texts #kageyama smau #yachi texts #yachi fake texts #yachi smau #denks.smau

[allyouneedisbuck]

i don’t wanna do this (i don’t wanna lose this)

eighteen plus blog minors dni

summary -> it’s all fake, every piece of it scripted and perfected for the camera, even the upcoming break-up you pretend doesn’t break your heart.

words -> 2.5k

warnings -> fake relationship, use of name (bucky calls the reader by her character’s name, lucia, once) nickname uses (baby, sweetheart) co-workers/friends to lovers, no smut, not beta’d

notes -> this is for the lovely maera’s ( @ambrosiase ) hotel indigo writing challenge i absolutely love this idea mae and am so appreciative that you created this challenge, it really pushed me out of my comfort zone and i got to explore an entirely new au.  

room & service -> business meets pleasure with celebrity bucky barnes -> bucky and reader are co-stars in a fake relationship in a hotel for their final comic-con together.

— ➶ —

Bucky has been doing interviews with Sam all day today. 

You’ve been working together for six seasons and have both been to too many comic-cons to count. Every single one of them you and Bucky had been paired up to do interviews and photo-ops together. 

A scripted piece of a scripted relationship. Agreed upon when your characters romance began to pick up popularity and designed to look perfect until the end.

Tomorrow an article with be released ‘leaking’ the details of your perfect break-up too. A source close to the both of you will comment that wrapping of the show and being forced to go long distance just wasn’t working for you two. The writer will supply photos of today, the two of you avoiding sitting near one another and not speaking. They’ll write that their source confirmed this convention is actually the first time you’ve seen each other in months. 

Even more articles have already been planted periodically questioning whether the two of you were still together, generating buzz around the show and what happens between your characters. It’s a brilliant job, honestly.

Except, you and Bucky had been in a fake relationship for so long, it had begun to feel real. This distance between you two felt purposeful in a way that hurt you more than it ever should have. 

Your assistant is supposed to go through your instagram soon and begin archiving posts and pieces of your fake life with Bucky. He’s been glaringly absent from your social media recently and it makes your heart ache at the idea of him being nonexistent.

Your fans have noticed too. You read comment after comment all asking the same thing; What happened to you and Bucky? 

“Oh, Lucia! My dear, Lucia.” You bite down a grin at the sound of Bucky’s voice through your door. His words were filtered by the wall between you and a little slurred from the drinks he had no doubt consumed at the hotel bar. “Open the door, please.” 

You lock your phone and lay it on the bed beside you. “I’m busy, Bucky! Go bother Sam.” You call back despite already walking towards the door. 

“Bother Sam? On our last night together?” You can see Bucky smile teasingly though the peephole. Despite his joking tone the words hurt. “Four years together and this is how things end? Through a hotel room door?” 

His fist comes up to bang against the door and a hand comes up to his heart. He’s putting on a show for you, fully away of your eye watching carefully through the peephole. “How much have you had to drink, Bucky Barnes?” You ask as the door remains closed. 

Bucky holds his fingers up in a pinch too small to be true. “Not much.” When his hand falls back to his side he smiles up at the peephole. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.” 

You melt, becoming putty in his hand as you quickly move to unlatch the door. “I’ve missed you too.” You admit to him, face to face, as you lean against the door jam. 

A smirk replaces Bucky’s sweet smile as his hands reach out to grip your hips. “This break-up is tough on me, baby.” He pushes you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. “One more night. One last time. You and me.” 

“Shut up!” You force his hands off of you and turn towards the mini bar in your room. “You’re such a dweeb. I’m glad we’re breaking up.” You pull out the miniature bottle of wine and twist the top off. 

Bucky’s hand slams across his chest as he falls against the wall in dramatic fashion. “You’re… Glad? My frail heart can’t take it,” he falls to his knees, “Please. Tell my mother, I loved her.”

You watch, unamused, as Bucky falls to the floor in front of you. “You’re obnoxious.” A beaming smile breaks out onto Bucky’s face that makes you grin.

“I was serious, about missing you.” Bucky moves to sit up with his back against the edge of your bed. You move to sit beside him on the floor. “These junkets and photos just aren’t the same without you by my side, cracking jokes in my ear.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “Me too. I love Wanda, but it’s just not the same.” You admit quietly.

There’s so much that you want to say to him. What if this wasn’t fake? What if we didn’t go through with the break-up plan? “Did they send you our social media plan?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You swallow thickly, “I have my assistant going through my account for me soon. We’re supposed to start untagging and deleting photos of each other this week.”

Bucky snorts. “How fucking sweet. Four years together and they have us untag each other to confirm a break up.” His fingers tap against his thigh as the two of you sit on the carpeted floor together.

“Has it really been four years?” You ask quietly. It’s more of a question to yourself, but Bucky answers it with a nod anyways.

“My longest relationship ever and it was fake.” Bucky’s awkward laugh makes the air tense as he stares down at his hands. “I’ve wasted so much of my life. So many chances gone.”

You know the words aren’t said with ill intent, but that doesn’t stop the crack from forming in your heart. You can’t fathom the idea of all your time together, fake or not, being a waste.

Your eyes cut away from him in embarrassment. “Was it really all a waste?” You ask quietly. The words are unintentional, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re out in the air.

“What?” You can feel his eyes settle on you in an attempt to read your face or body language, but a career in acting comes in handy. Your back is ramrod straight and your face turned away perfectly to hide the emotions in your eyes. “It was fake when we could have had something real with people we actually cared about.”

It’s a knife to your broken heart. “People we actually care about?”

“You know, like, other girls and guys who we wanted to pursue but couldn’t because of the contract.” Bucky reaches out to wrap a hand around yours, but you pull away. “I don’t understand what’s wrong here.”

You shake your head, the regret of your words settling over you. “Nothing. I’m just… It’s been a long day.” You use the edge of the bed to help you stand while Bucky remains on the floor, watching you in confusion. “I’m tired, you should go.”

“Woah. What’s this one-eighty?” Bucky stands too and follows you as you move around to gather your toothbrush and skincare. “Two seconds ago we were joking about a fake break-up and now you’re all quiet and weird? You expect me to just leave?”

“Please.” You plead. The last thing you want to do is dump all your feelings out to Bucky, on the last day you two were officially contracted to each other, and make him feel guilty for feeling free. “I just need to be alone, Buck.”

You move to push past him towards your bathroom, but Bucky’s hand wraps around your wrist. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t do this closing yourself off thing.”

“I’m not.” You say stubbornly. “I’m tired.” You try again to move past him, but his grip only tightens as he forces you to actually face him. “Buck-“

“You can tell me, you know?” He says quietly as his grip slackens. Your eyes meet his, pools of blue staring back at you with something akin to hurt. “You can trust me. We’re best friends, right? You’re my-“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Bucky. Pretend to care. You can go back to the bar and…” You pull your hand from him and cross your arms over your chest. “And tomorrow we can start being with people we actually care about.”

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut as his own words are repeated back and left out in the open between you two. “That’s not what I…”

“What did you mean then?” You cut him off. You want to sound angry, but your tone is sad and tired. “Enlighten me, please.”

“I just meant… I meant we could date who we wanted to date, I didn’t mean for it to sound so awful.” He answers quietly. “I care about you a lot. We’ve been friends for over half a decade, of course I care about you.”

You swallow thickly. “What if I don’t want to date anyone else?” You force yourself to ask. If not now, then when? Ten years from now at a reunion of your show? You couldn’t live with this what if.

“What?” Bucky’s hand falls from your wrist as he takes a step back like your words have burned him.

You push through the thundering of your heart and ringing in your ears to ask, “haven’t you ever thought about it? I mean, four years of just us, all those dates and premieres, was it really all just work for you?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” Bucky rubs a hand over his jaw as you stare at him expectantly. “Have you?”

“I asked the question I think that would imply…” You trail off as his answer weighs down on your mind. It feels like a no. No. No. No. It’s on repeat in your mind as you move to sit down on your bed. “After a while the dates and photos and sappy posts didn’t feel all that forced anymore.” You admit quietly.

Bucky paces silently in front of you. You’re unsure of what’s going through his mind as he does it and it’s all you can do to not tap anxiously as you watch.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finally asks when he finally pauses in front of you. You look up at him unsure of what to say. “I mean… When did you start…” He trails off like he doesn’t want the answer.

You look down at your hands in your lap. Despite your worries in telling Bucky you guess you had never truly thought of this conversation ending up this way. All these questions felt like Bucky preparing for a gentle rejection.

“I don’t know. After our second anniversary?” You keep your answer to him vague despite you being fully aware of when you started seeing Bucky differently. “That post you wrote for me that day. All the ones after. All of those words were fake?”

Your mind drifts to his words that day. The sweet and short caption had made butterflies erupt as you scrolled through the photos he had posted with it. Despite you both being required to post something, the photos he had chosen had been entirely genuine.

Pictures the two of you had taken together on set, selfies during your fake dates, and even a sweet set of photo booth pictures from your first premiere together.

You had stared at the post far too long as emotions rushed through you. Your heart raced at the idea of Bucky taking his time to pick photos that meant something to the both of you.

“I think that..” You shake your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the painful reminders. “I think you should go.” You stand up suddenly, your hands pushing gently at his chest.

Bucky’s eyes widen as his hands come up grip your arms in an attempt to stop you. “Woah. Let’s talk about this. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

“Figure it out? What is there to figure out, Bucky?” You cry out, shoving harder. “If you don’t know how you feel then you should figure it out on your own.” You move past him to open the door.

Bucky follows after you hastily. “Sweetheart, wait, please. I just need a moment.” You grip his forearms tightly using Bucky’s own momentum against him as you guide him to the hallway outside your room. “I wasn’t expecting this. We have articles and photos and interviews planned about a break-up tomorrow.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Bucky.” The two of you are back where your night began. Opposite sides of the door as you stare, unsure of what to say. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? The article will be published and we’ll confirm it and life will move on.”

The door slams shut in his face without warning, not giving him a chance to say anything else. You stare blankly at the ugly, green shade its painted in silence as you remind yourself; It was all fake. A script you had been given and followed to a tee. One you had gotten too caught up in.

You’re feelings don’t change the ending.

There’s a slow knock on your door. You suck in a breath as you move to open it an apology on the tip of your tongue.

“Bucky.” You’re cut off as his hands come up to rest on your cheeks and he pulls you towards him. Anything you had to say dissipates as his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss.

Your hands come up to grip his t-shirt tightly as you kiss him back your tongue slipping into his mouth while he pulls you flush against his body.

An arm wraps around your waist and Bucky pushes you back into your room, his foot kicking your door closed harshly.

The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed and you finally pull away to look at Bucky, but he speaks before you can say anything.

“Of course I’ve thought about it.” He breathes out. His eyes are wide with nerves and his cheeks flushed red. The sight of it mixed with his kiss makes your heart pound. “I’ve thought about kissing you for real, not in a room filled with crew and cameras. About what it would be like to be on a date where paparazzi hasn’t been tipped off. Baby,” his hands rest on your cheeks again as he forces your eyes to meet his, “I’ve thought about it all. What it would be like to be with you, to really be with you in every way. Sometimes it’s all I think about when we’re together.”

You take pause, your eyes widening and hands freezing in place as you listen to what he’s saying. “Why didn’t you say anything then? Why’d you just pace and ask me all those questions?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He smiles brightly when you giggle. “Because I couldn’t believe you actually felt the same way. I was in shock.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You smile up at him softly. “What do we do about the article tomorrow?” You whisper your question.

You feel giddy with excitement as Bucky’s hands land on your hips to hold you in place, flush against him. “We deny it.”

“What about our managers?” Your smile doesn’t fade even as stress over the situation arises. “And…And our separate interviews tomorrow?”

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Bucky smiles. “We’ll tell them all about how in love we still are. That the source in the article was a dud and we’ve just been private recently as the show wraps.”

“We will?” You ask quietly. Your heart racing at his words. “You want to say all that?”

Bucky nods his head. “I do.”

You don’t say anything else he leans in for another kiss, you could worry tomorrow.

Bonus -> The Next Day

liked by buckybarnes, samwilson and 134,759 others

yourinstagram the final season of our show premieres this weekend and we’re so excited for you all to see how it ends. the first photo is from tonight and the second from our first season! the past six years has brought me so much joy and i’m so grateful for everything this show has given me. most importantly though, i’m thankful for you, bucky barnes. my adrian to my lucia. my best friend. my lover. thanks for making this show so fun.

View all 15,398 comments

samwilson we made a great show. love you guys.

buckyfan thought y’all were a pr stunt lmao

yourinstagram apparently you’re not supposed to really fall in love for those to work…

buckybarnes i am most grateful for you. you made work worth it every god damn day.

yourfan my favorite couple on and off the screen.

— ➶ —

notes -> this is my first ever time joining a writing challenge, it really pushed me to work through block and focus on this instead of letting is die out like i have with other projects despite liking them so much!

(hoping you guys don’t hate the extra instagram idea, i just felt it fit in!)

hopefully you enjoyed and if you did, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#the hotel indigo writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader

[seijorhi]

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy. 

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face. 

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek. 

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest. 

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach. 

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone. 

Not that he’s ever that patient. 

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?” 

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in. 

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down. 

Dinner, and everything else for that matter. 

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.” 

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. 

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat. 

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful. 

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend. 

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt. 

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes. 

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week. 

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of  guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days. 

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later. 

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything. 

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.  

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone. 

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers. 

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out. 

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely. 

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you. 

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning. 

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.” 

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement. 

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do. 

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?” 

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually. 

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask. 

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch… 

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek. 

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.��� 

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs. 

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages. 

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open. 

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her. 

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?” 

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely… 

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true. 

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore. 

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account. 

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job. 

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff. 

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one. 

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave. 

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile. 

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.” 

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto. 

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you. 

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?” 

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’. 

But that was then. 

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake. 

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper. 

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

[badhermitcraftheadcanons]

You good?

Look guys the inbox is open! Remember when you all would constantly say “open the inbox darn it!!!”?

Okay yeah, some would say that I’m not currently, exactly the ‘peachiest’ right now. who knew that I, who created and ran a blog where I insult people for minecraft headcanons and pretend to be AT MY LIMIT for comical reasons may not have the most stable mental well-being, who would have guessed.

I don’t know how to condense this information properly in a human way, so here is a list

List for why I left:

got busy trying to be busy at school

i stopped hyperfixating on hermitcraft and now I’m not so hot on it, yo

Social media anxiety is CRIPPLING and I don’t like having social media accounts I’m not using just lying around to pick up dust. I usually delete them but I think none of us want that.

I hate this app. Yeah what. You’re gonna have to power wash the instagrammer out of me. I hate it there too but at least I’m used to it. It’s my territory. You can’t teach a dog boy new tricks. I mean you can’t teach an old boy new tricks. Ah whatever. But anyways big chunk of why I don’t use it is that I just don’t like it and there’s no friends that keep me on here

Thank you for asking anon, as always you’re all so sweet and this blog is fun for the right person, or people because as much as I hate giving others my power I am simply not jiving with this anymore, brother, and that’s the honest truth. Sorry for all the weird slang that’s me trying to play off the nerves and I’m not bothered to go back and edit it all out.

Now I’m gonna go look for my replacement, askbox is open for questions and for, heck it, some last submissions, why not.

I’m going to make sure whoever gets this account is much more spiteful, ruthless and far more hilarious than I am. I think. Actually scratch that, you’re on your own.

#it’s been so long I don’t even remember my tags girl #time to just look pretty instead #peace signs #heart shape with my hands #jazz hands? #might miss this honestly #there’s a very real possibility that I’ll get re-hfxated again. and I won’t have this blog anymore ouph #let’s hope i can convince whoever it is to let me be an idle mysterious admin 2

[tomtenadia]

Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go. 

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.” 

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #fluff