#it's dragging my sleep schedule with it even though he is trying very politely not to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonjaekook · 4 years

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One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard. “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

#neowritingsnet #nct fluff #nct angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenario #wonjaekook #i tried a slightly new sizing for the header :) hopefully it looks better now #there are definitely things I could have done better so let me know what you think!#<<<333

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michaelmyersmalewife · 3 years

Text

it is a very human thing to love

nanami kento x reader

taken from these prompts

A/N: gets nsfw-ish towards the end, nothing explicit tho

He has never pretended that he was above the wants and needs of an average man. It was less of a punishment and more of a mercy - one that he had not been given in his youth, so maybe, somehow, he could spare someone the pain that had driven him to this decision. It was the least he could do. Pushing people away was supposed to be a good thing.

Nanami wasn’t lonely by nature. He wasn’t one to keep a circle of friends, in fact he always found himself more at ease alone. His time spent at a desk and the overbearing coworkers that came with it had beaten what little want for interaction he still had left out of him, and the inherent strangeness that seemed to accompany his fellow sorcerers did enough to repel him. Which isn’t to say he was completely unsociable (though whenever asked to join his colleagues for a night out he would politely decline). When he would visit his regular string of family-owned restaurants and bakeries, striking pleasant but inconsequential conversations with their workers, he was satisfied enough.

He had managed as a businessman, and he was managing as a sorcerer. He was, until you picked him up from a mission instead of Ijichi. You.

You could hardly be considered a sorcerer, barely managing to create a basic curtain let alone having enough cursed energy to do so (though, you had no interest in fighting, you confessed to him once). You were hired as an assistant under Ijichi, who by all accounts was overworked as it is. It was only a matter of time, Nanami supposed. He was used to other man’s skittish demeanor, the tired way he followed orders like a drone. He was not expecting that look in your eyes, two parts concerned and relieved. He was not expecting you to sprint out of the car and insist on patching him up in that dingy alley, even after he assured you that Shoko could handle it. He didn’t feel like arguing after you had already brought out the first aid kit you apparently kept in your trunk.

“She works so hard,” you said to him, cleaning off the blood that had coagulated along the length of his arm where a curse had gnawed off a piece of skin. “I just wanna make it easier for her.”

He hummed.

“Besides,” keeping pressure on the gauze you had wrapped around the wound, you taped it together. “That has to hurt, I just wanna help when I can.”

You’re doing enough, he wanted to say. Nanami only sighed.

You had quickly become a consistency in his life - a welcome one, much to his surprise. You would drop him off or pick him up, make some friendly conversation (most times you would share a comfortable silence, occasionally he would be the one to bring something up). It was never anything of any importance until, one day, you happened to mention a restaurant he had been meaning to visit. It was more of a hole in the wall really, but he heard good things.

Asking you out had been an accident. You agreed of course, it was the polite thing to do, he thought. It was just a lunch between friends - no, not friends, coworkers. But one lunch became two, then five, and in no time at all a year had passed. Nanami thought of himself as a man without regrets. He still was. Despite this, he hadn’t realized what was happening until his idea of mercy could no longer be merciful.

He realized this around the same time he realized he liked watching you talk. The way your face would light up when you talked about something that interested you (and you were very open about the things you loved - it didn’t take him long to find that you had a lot in common, much to his surprise), when you would possess a sudden somberness when your conversations took a more serious turn. You tended to talk with your hands, he noticed. He sometimes wondered what you noticed about him.

It wasn’t forecasted to rain that day, though the sky was cloudier than it would be on a usual spring day. You had been late to the lunch that you didn’t even need to schedule anymore. Traffic had been particularly bad, you said. Nanami nodded. It happens. Things carried on as usual until a gentle shower draped the city in a fine mist of droplets. By the time you dropped him off at his apartment, it was a thundering downpour.

“You can wait it out inside.” he said. It was the first time he had invited you inside his home, his most personal of bubbles that hardly anyone in his life had accessed. He hated the flinch in his heart when he saw you hesitate.

“It’s okay, I don’t wanna bother you.”

He ached. “Would you rather be out here?” he said with a sigh.

It only took you a moment of thought before you jogged in after him.

He expected the rain to clear out in about an hour, maybe less. When it didn’t, felt a knot form in his chest. He put a kettle on, grabbing two bags of tea - one you had recommended some months back, he hadn’t expected to like it as much as he did.

“I’ll leave in a bit,” you said, blowing the steam from your mug. “It’s getting late.”

There was an unsteadiness to your voice, and you would flinch whenever the thunder boomed somewhere outside. Nanami let out a soft grunt as he pushed himself up from where he sat across from you. When he came back, a blanket and two pillows tucked beneath his arms, you found yourself unable to find the words to question him.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll take the couch.” He silently thanked you when you didn’t fight him on this.

Like most things you had seemingly brought into his life, spending hours at a time in his home had become a regular thing for you. Sometimes you would bring the ingredients needed for a recipe he’d been wanting to try, or you would watch a movie one of you had picked out. Somehow, he wasn’t at all surprised when, one night, you had kissed him on your way out.

He knew what this meant, what it entailed. He wanted to let you go so badly, he didn’t want to drag you further into a world he already believed didn’t deserve a person like you. Loving you meant locking you in place, and Nanami didn’t want to think that he could be so cruel.

But Nanami is painfully human. You stayed the night the next day. You walked across his vision like something bright and burning, blinding him. He didn’t deserve to see you, to have you like this. Not with all the possibilities that he would list in his head right before he would walk out the door every morning.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, rubbing your thumb along the curve of his cheek, as though to coax whatever he was holding in out like a timid animal.

Nanami wasn’t sure what was worse: the possibility that he regretted every action that led to this moment, or the fact that he didn’t. Not a second. Not even close.

Slipping from your grasp, he lay on his side, cradling you against his chest as he rested his head on your shoulder. Kissing your temple, he closed his eyes.

“Nothing.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #my fics

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raindownforme · 3 years

Text

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don’t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

———

Congrats Nat on getting 1k!

#charlie slimecicle my beloved #charlie slimecicle #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle #slimecicle x reader #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp fanfic #chuckle sandwhich x reader #chuckle sammy #chuckle sandwich #lunch club x reader #lunch club #origins smp #smpllive #jschlatt #schlatt #ted nivison #ted nivision

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labelleofbelfastcity · 3 years

Text

(cw: night yorb possession, brief descriptions of hospitals/doctors)

“I’m scared, The Ball.”

Riz’s breath catches in his throat as he leans against the wall below Fabian’s window. It’s spring and a flowery breeze drifts over Fabian’s sprawling lawn, swirling around Riz and kicking up his curls. It’s dark, too, which is why Riz is here. Starlight catches on the grass and the white roses of the garden. Riz breathes it in and presses himself closer to the wall, further away from the silvery light and into the shadows.

“I know you said you’re fine but I just... This is so stupid, what am I, a twelve year old girl?” Fabian’s on his balcony, the metal bottom of which is providing Riz his shield from the stars.

Riz doesn’t picture the way Fabian probably looks, leaning on the railing, hair ruffled by wind and eye a little sad and tired. Riz doesn’t picture it just like he doesn’t hide from his own best friend.

“You’re literally right across town,” Fabian mutters, and Riz has to strain himself to hear. “I could just go see you. I should just go see you. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

Technically, Riz should be in bed right now. The doctor was very stern about the wonders a full eight hours could do for a sticky possession, and his friends had seemed hopeful when he told them about potential easy cures, that there might be a way out of this one that avoids death and gods and pain. It was a doctor who told him this, though, and Riz had never been particularly fond of them, so he’d politely nodded his head, because his mom was in the room, and then proceeded to do everything but change his piss poor sleep schedule, even though he knew Kristen could sense the levels of exhaustion building up and Adaine could see the rings under his eyes.

He spends most of his nights in his office, trying and failing not to think or say the two words that make him nauseous, that make his bones ache and his eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of his head. Most nights, however, are not all of them, and the others he spends here, at Seacaster Manor. Which is why he’s so surprised to hear Fabian talking to him, or, rather, talking to the wind that bears his name. Because Fabian is always so careful, when there is a chance at being overheard.

Fabian heaves a sigh and the metal above Riz shifts. “I don’t know how to help you, The Ball. You won’t... you won’t let me help you.”

Riz bites his tongue and closes his eyes and lets the breeze and the words whip over his face, ignores the burning of the tattoo across his chest in favor of the sting of claws in his palms.

“I wish you would just fucking take care of yourself for once. God, it shouldn’t be too hard. It shouldn’t be... these things are supposed to be easy for people like you.”

People like me? Riz thinks, before he reminds himself that he isn’t allowed to think anymore.

“You’re basically being given a mandatory vacation. That sounds,” Fabian blows out a breath and it adds a new tone to the whistling in Riz’s ears. “That sounds so nice.”

Riz chews the inside of his mouth—it’s already a raw and bloody mess from weeks of this and he isn’t sure what it could possibly hurt to keep going.

“But you don’t, you don’t get to rest, ever, even when you need it. You don’t let yourself. I don’t understand you.”

Riz gets that a lot, even from the people, the creatures who cohabit his body. Riz is used to that. It hurts, a little, anyway.

And then Fabian says something truly surprising, something that finally pulls the back part of Riz’s brain from where it’s sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of night yorb night yorb night yorb night and back into himself, the part that he can still allow to be himself, that he can still trust to be himself.

“You’re my best friend. I love you. I wish you’d let me help.”

Fabian never says those things. Never. Not even when Riz is cold and dead in the dirt of a forest. Not even when Riz is shaking and trying not to cry in bed after bed in hospital after hospital, as surgeons and clerics and wizards attempt to remove his tattoo. Fabian never says those words, no matter how many times Riz does.

He immediately follows it up with another, “This is so stupid.” And then the metal creaks and Fabian’s sliding glass doors drag on the floor and Riz hears footsteps pause, directly over his head, on the threshold of his bedroom and balcony. “I’ll make sure you’re okay, The Ball. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

The stars twinkle overhead. The breeze is much more like wind now than it was before. Riz presses his head against the wall and breathes.

#notes app fic because sofis mind is >>>>>#bellewrites #fantasy high #fabriz #like vaguely its pretty much just platonic but interpret it how you will #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #night yorb #dimension 20 #spawned by a discussion of their love languages and now i have too many emotions

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sweetheart-sunghoon · 4 years

Text

BEOMGYU IMAGINE ࿐ ࿔:･ﾟ*

contains: fluff, angst, happy ending, fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

summary: you’re forced into a marriage with beomgyu, the son of hades

this wasn’t what he wanted. this wasn’t how he wanted it to happen. when beomgyu had told his father he liked you a lot and wish he could date you, this isn’t what he meant. but really, what else would you expect from a man who got his wife in the exact same ways. damn hades and his impulsive and irrational ways.

beomgyu paces around persephone’s garden, walking up and down the dark stone paths past pomegranate trees with orange blossoms, deep green bushes, poisonous shrubs and glowing mushrooms. like the cloudy mahogany sky above him, there is a gloom over his mind. groaning and tugging at his hair, beomgyu tries to figure out what to say to you.

“y/n, i’m so sorry. i swear i didn’t ask hades to do this. my dad… he’s… he’s a bit… he’s a bit…” beomgyu groans and flops onto the wide edge of a fountain that spews a blood-like liquid rather than water. “this is hopeless. y/n, i’m so so so so sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

beomgyu jumps at your sombre voice. his heart flutters. there you are, looking solemn yet as beautiful as ever. you’re dressed in your usual bright colours and there’s a flower behind your ear, but you don’t look like you usually do. you look dreary and tired and… honestly? half dead. and beomgyu would know. not only does he live in the underworld, where you currently are, for a quarter of the year, his demigod powers include sensing the life auras of other’s. yours is surrounded by a layer of death.

usually, you look like a beautiful spring flower in full bloom, but right now beomgyu thinks you look like a wilted flower, dying a slow death. your cheeks are hollow, your skin is losing its glow and colour, dark lines circle your eyes.

“y/n,” beomgyu says. he’s surprised to see you here. ever since his father dragged you down here you’d been locked in your room, avoiding everyone. “y/n, i’m so sorry.”

you shrug weakly. “i know this wasn’t your intention.”

“i’ve tried to persuade my dad to let you go but… he doesn’t like being told what to do. his temper is… extreme. but i’ll keep trying. i’m so sorry.”

shrugging again, you sit on a nearby marble bench, your shoulders hunching forward like your spine is struggling to hold you up.

beomgyu feels his heart break at how little energy you have. that’s the effect the underworld has on outsiders. it reacts much like an immune system when a foreign bacteria or disease enters the body. because the underworld is a place for the dead, it sucks the energy out of the living which it does not know, those not from it or tied to those from it.

beomgyu sinks back to his seat on the fountain. “have you eaten?”

“no.”

it might sound weird to others, but beomgyu’s glad you haven’t. eating from the underworld means you cannot leave.

“i doubt you’ve been sleeping well,” beomgyu then says.

as if having your literal life force drained from you and not being to eat wasn’t enough, the constant tortured screams echoing out from tartarus can be hard to block out at night.

you shake your head.

beomgyu watches as the flower behind your ear dislodges and floats to the ground, shrivelling to dust when it touches the ashy ground.

you see it too, an ironic smile forming. “this really is the land of the dead, isn’t it?” one strained laugh leaves your lips. “you know, the longer i’m here, the more i feel like i’m becoming like everyone else hear. dead.”

beomgyu’s breath hitches. he can’t stand this.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

the next night, beomgyu knocks on your bedroom door and calls your name, praying you’ll let him in. he had persuaded a hermes child he knows to deliver some ambrosia to the gates of hell. beomgyu hoped the food of the gods, known to heal and recover, would help you regain your energy.

beomgyu is surprised when you open the door, even if it’s only a crack.

“yes,” comes your tired voice through the small gap you’d opened.

“i have some ambrosia for you,” beomgyu says. “i doubt it’ll do much but hopefully you’ll feel a little better.”

you open the door fully for beomgyu and walk back to your bed. you hold in the sigh of relief when you sit down. you’re so drained and lacking in energy that just walking making you feel nauseous.

you observe beomgyu as he steps in and shuts the door behind him. even now, late in the evening, he wears a sleek black suit jacket and dress pants. he doesn’t wear a tie. his fingers are adorned with silver rings matching the silver chain you see peeking behind the colour of his button-down shirt. maybe if you weren’t so miserable you’d find him attractive. you always did at camp, particularly after he’d spar with his friends and push his jet black hair off his forehead.

“can i sit?” beomgyu asks, gesturing to the spot beside you.

you nod.

beomgyu perches on the edge of the bed next to you, leaving some space because as much as he likes you, he doubts you like him right now.

“there’s not a lot but…” beomgyu hands you the small paper box. there are nine cubes of golden ambrosia inside.

“thank you,” you say. your voice is weak and it hurts beomgyu to hear it.

“i’m sorry,” he says again.

“it’s okay,” you reply, popping a cube of ambrosia into your mouth. “there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

for what feels like the hundredth time, beomgyu’s heart breaks and he whispers, “i’m sorry.”

and for the first time since you arrived here four days ago, you look beomgyu in the eyes. you see for the first time that he’s hurting too. there’s a sadness in his eyes you’ve rarely seen before. the sadness one feels when someone they care for is hurt.

slowly, you lean your head against his shoulder. beomgyu flinches from shock but stays still. the two of you stay like this for a while until beomgyu helps you under the covers and you fall asleep, your last thought being that while you’d rather be a million other places than this, there are worse people to be forced to marry.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

the next day, beomgyu finds you in the garden. you look a little better. you’re admiring some black lily flowers and beomgyu is suddenly reminded of your parentage.

“i’m sure your mother is absolutely furious with my father right now,” beomgyu says, startling you a little. “he’s stolen two of her children now.”

“bold of you to assume she wasn’t already,” you say, eyes still on the lilies.

“right, yes.”

“demeter is a very bitter woman, you know,” you continue. you turn and slowly make your way to a nearby tree with low hanging branches. it’s a pomegranate tree.

beomgyu watches you silently. he’s happy you’ve recovered a little, though you aren’t nearly as joyful as you are above ground.

“do you see her often?” you ask suddenly, running a hand down the trunk of the tree. “persephone?”

“no,” beomgyu answers, making his way towards you and the tree. he walks with his hands behind his back. “we have… conflicting schedules, you could say. i leave for camp during the summer. when i return she is here but not for long as she leaves just before spring and is gone all season so that the harvests will be successful.”

you nod in understanding.

beomgyu stands just beyond the reach of the tree branches. “have you met her?”

“no. we are only half-sisters. plus she’s here mostly.”

“that is true.”

“is she nice?” you ask, a question that you have considered a number of times.

beomgyu kicks at the ground absentmindedly. “yes. she’s kind to me. though, i think my father’s temper has rubbed off on her after all this time. she can be surprisingly fierce.”

nodding to show you’re listening, you put both of your hands against the tree and focus your power into it.

“she treats me well. like a son, i suppose. she asks me about camp and my friends, she jokes that she only leaves during spring to make sure i get fed.” beomgyu smiles. “she’s really kind and polite and gentle and loving.“

beomgyu looks at you. your eyebrows are pulled together in concentration. he’s seen you use your powers like this at camp before. you can heal plants and prompt them to produce flowers or fruit. a fond smile tugs at his lips. "like you.”

your eyes open, landing immediately on beomgyu. his widen, shocked, realising his words. he turns away from you to hide his blush and clears his throat loudly. he wasn’t intending to make any a move of any sort of you, thinking it wrong to flirt with you when your marriage is forced.

but you find it amusing that the compliment just slipped out. and you appreciate it. you can see the tips of his ears burning red.

deciding to return to your room, you reach up to the pomegranate you had used your powers to produce and tug it from its branch of the tree. stepping up to beomgyu and tapping his shoulder, you place the red fruit in his hand and walk away.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

yours and beomgyu’s wedding is not for another week. in the days leading up, you spend a lot of time together, the ambrosia he brought slowly healing you more and more. you find yourself able to laugh again. perhaps you even find yourself growing to like beomgyu.

you knew him well enough at camp half blood but mainly through mutual friends. after a week of getting to know him more, you wonder why you weren’t closer before. though, the screams from tartarus at night remind you that the whole son of hades thing likely formed a negative bias against him in your mind.

but that bias dissipates over time. you see that he’s just a boy trying to enjoy life. he didn’t ask to be a demigod, and he certainly didn’t ask for his godly parent to be the king of the underworld. this detail almost completely slips your mind until three days until your wedding when you ask beomgyu what it’s like beyond the garden walls.

he’s reluctant to take you outside at first but eventually does.

“um, you should probably hold my hand,” he stutters. “it’s easy to get lost out here and there’s a lot of dangerous things.”

you glance at his hand. he’s wearing an odd piece of hand jewellery. thick rings around his fingers are connected to a matching bracelet at his wrist by thin chains. the black metal is a stark contrast to his pale skin.

your staring turns beomgyu’s ears pink and he’s quick to say, “y-you can just hold my jacket if you want.”

“no, no,” you say, taking his hand in yours. you’re not entirely surprised by how icy his hand is. “it’s okay."

honestly, you didn’t even realise you were staring at his hands so much.

you walk for about an hour around the dry land, the hazy red sky growing darker and darker the further from hades castle you are. you talk about many things. the topic of powers and abilities comes up.

"so what are your powers?” you ask beomgyu who is beginning to look antsy.

“if we stay out here any longer, you might find out,” he mumbles, his voice low.

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“we should turn back,” beomgyu tells you, his eyes narrowing as he glances around. “something’s not right. i can feel the dead nearby.”

“this is the underworld, beomgyu. everyone is dead.”

“yes, but they’re too close. something’s not right. let’s go.”

you frown but nod and let beomgyu pull you back in the direction of hades’ palace. you’re halfway there when a piercing screech sounds from above. a strong force suddenly knocks you into beomgyu and a sharp pain seers on your arm. a shocked exclaim jumps past your lips as you find three large gashes on your arm, blood pouring down.

“y/n,” beomgyu gasps, his arms catching you around your waist. he sees the blood too and his jaw clenches. he spots the cause of your injury just in time to pull you closer, out of its field of attack.

your heart rate doubles. “w-what-what-”

“a fury,” beomgyu growls, manoeuvring you behind his back.

holding your arm to stop the bleeding, you peek over his shoulder and see the ugly bat-winged monster circling back to your direction. it flies at full speed, baring its huge yellow fangs.

“stop!” beomgyu commands, his voice strong, deep and demanding.

to your surprise, the creature does, halting in mid-air, growling at beomgyu. it is now you recall just how powerful beomgyu must be. being a child of the big three (zeus, poseidon and hades) makes him indefinitely stronger and more powerful than the average demigod. even if hades wasn’t one of the big three, the kind of power he possesses is terrifying. the thought of beomgyu sharing some of those abilities…

beomgyu glares at the fury. “leave now before i banish you back to tartarus.”

the fury snarls.

“leave!” beomgyu yells, loud enough to make you flinch. he feels your movement and reaches back to grip your hand reassuringly.

with one last snarl, the fury flies away. beomgyu spins to you the moment it’s out of sight, his demeanour flipping as he cradles your arm in his hands.

“are you okay?” he asks quickly.

“not really,” you admit, shaking a little.

beomgyu inspects the large scratches and winces. “it’s too big for me to heal.”

he can heal? you think. it’s an odd concept considering he’s the son of death.

beomgyu stretches out his hand and makes an upward motion. a dark and opaque wall rises from the ground. he pulls you towards it. “let’s go.”

“wait, what is this?” you question.

he turns his head to you, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “shadow travel.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

the night before your wedding, beomgyu knocks on your door to check on you as he didn’t see you today. he was visiting a friend because, while you are stuck here, beomgyu is free to come and go as he likes.

“how are you feeling?” beomgyu asks, sitting at the end of the bed. for once, he isn’t dressed up, instead donning a black plain tee and pair of sweatpants.

“i’m okay,” you tell him.

“that’s good.” he fiddles with the bed cover, avoiding your eyes. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine,” you say. “i can’t expect you to follow me around all day every day. you should see your friends too.”

“that’s not what i meant,” beomgyu says, his dark eyes taking on the sorrowful look he gets when he thinks you’re not looking. “although i’m sorry for that too now."

he takes a deep breath. "i meant that i was sorry for this. all of this. for my father dragging you down here. for our forced marriage. for making you unhappy, sick, lonely. i’m sorry for everything.”

“beomgyu… beomgyu look at me.”

he hesitantly meets your gaze and you see a tear sliding down his cheek.

“oh, beomgyu,” you sigh, leaning forward to wipe away the tear. “stop apologising.”

“but it’s true,” he says, his voice becoming rough and strained. “i know you don’t like it here. you don’t want to marry me. you’ve only been eating ambrosia for the past week but you still look half dead. you can’t even sleep at night. you-” his voice catches and he shakes his head, looking down.

you grab his hand and squeeze gently. “but it’ll get better once we’re married, right? i’ll have my energy back, i’ll be able to eat and sleep.”

“yes but that doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want this marriage,” beomgyu says. “i don’t want this marriage. i never asked for this, it was all my stupid father.”

“okay, you’re right,” you say. “i don’t want the marriage. but because i’m young, i’m unprepared, i have no say in it. i know you think i hate you but i don’t.”

beomgyu looks up again.

“i may hate the circumstances but i don’t hate you,” you say honestly. “at first, i did resent you, but i realised that this really isn’t your fault and that i shouldn’t hold your father’s actions against you.” you squeeze his hand again. “it’s not your fault. i don’t hate you. stop feeling sorry for me, okay? i’m fine, really.”

beomgyu nods. “okay.”

he’s silent, thinking, contemplating, processing.

you too have some thoughts on your mind. one thought actually. something that you’ve wanted to ask beomgyu the past few nights but never have, feeling too foolish. but seeing as you’ll be married to him tomorrow, you don’t see the harm in asking now.

“beomgyu,” you say quietly.

“yeah?”

“w-will you… will you please stay with me tonight?” you ask.

beomgyu’s ears flush bright red, the colour you’ve come to associate with his bashful and shy side.

“i think it’ll be easy to sleep if you do,” you continue. “will you?”

beomgyu needs a second to process your question but he eventually splutters, “yes.”

folding the blanket back for him, you shuffle over and lie down. beomgyu cautiously slides in beside you. he looks so stiff and awkward, it makes you smile a little.

“lie down,” you tell him and he does.

you take the initiative and cuddle up to him first, slotting yourself under his arm as you lay your head on his chest. immediately, you feel one hundred times better than you have all week. you feel safe and as though you can now breathe easy.

beomgyu finally relaxes, his arm looping around your shoulder, his hand slowly brushing over your hair.

the noises that usually keep you up at night fade away and sleep takes over. for the first time in almost two weeks, you have a good nights rest.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄

when you wake in the morning, beomgyu is gone and a gorgeous women with long, flower adorned hair is carrying in a long black dress.

“you’re awake!” she says. “great. i’m persephone. i’ve heard you’re my half sister. it’s lovely to meet you. now let’s get you ready. you’re getting married today.”

you barely have time to process any of what the goddess has said before your being stuffed into the ebony gown. the silk body somehow fits you perfectly and the lace sleeves are the exact length of your arms.

the next half an hour is a blur as persephone styles your hair with a flower crown of red and white roses, clasps a chunky bejewelled choker around your neck and swipes red gloss on your lips and dark glitter on your eyes.

and suddenly you’re standing at the entrance of a large grecian temple with black marble pillars. beomgyu is standing at the other end of the temple on a raised platform. a… skeleton?… is standing near him, a large book in it’s bony hands. as you start walking towards beomgyu you vaguely wonder if you’re really about to be married by a skeleton.

to your right and left are rows of skeletons, odd creatures and the odd person who seems to be relatively alive. hades and persephone are in the front row.

the ceremony passes by in a flash. beomgyu holds your hands softly as the skeleton addresses the crowd of undead. he looks at you with more adoration than you knew was possible, but he never smiles. you slip gothic black rings onto each others fingers. he kisses your cheek. then the wedding is done.

afterwards, you and beomgyu take a walk in the garden again.

“how do you feel?” beomgyu asks you after a minute of silence.

“good,” you say, heading to a pomegranate tree.

“you look good,” beomgyu replies.

you smile over your shoulder at him. “thank you.”

“really,” he says. his eyes rake up your body. “not just the dress and everything, but your whole aura. you look alive again.”

you reach the tree and pick the closest fruit. “i suppose i’m allowed to eat this now, right?”

“if you’d like.”

“will you eat it with me?”

“okay.”

you find a bench to sit on. beomgyu picks a rock from the ground and, using a power you didn’t know he possessed, he transforms its shape to be sharp and pointed. he cuts the fruit with it and you eat in silence. you have to admit that it feels nice to be eating something other than ambrosia.

once the fruit is gone, you scoot a little closer to beomgyu and put your hand on his knee.

“you don’t seem happy, beomgyu,” you say. “what’s wrong?”

he sighs. “i don’t know. it’s just… i like you a lot. even more now then i did when i told my father about you. but i… i can’t be happy when you’re not.”

“who says i’m not happy.”

“well aren’t you?”

“i’m… unsure… i think i need some more time to fully process everything, but it could be worse.”

beomgyu scoffs quietly. “how could it be worse?”

“i might not be married to you.”

beomgyu almost flinches at your words, eyes going wide. “what?”

“like i said, i’m still a little conflicted but one thing that i’m certain about is my feelings for you.”

“and?”

you smile. “i like you.”

“r-really?"

"really. throughout this all, you’ve been so kind and gentle. you haven’t pressured me and you’ve made me feel as comfortable as possible. i really appreciate it and i can’t say that i haven’t grown to like you.”

amusingly, your words render beomgyu speechless so you add, “plus, being married to the son of hades is a bit of an ego boost, if i’m being honest.”

said son of hades smiles.

“you know, i’m pretty sure you didn’t kiss me properly earlier.”

“i didn’t think you’d want me to,” beomgyu admits sheepishly.

“well, i do, so…”

his smile turns to a cheeky grin as he cups your face in his hands. “may i kiss the bride?”

you grin too. “you may.”

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

BSD x university au hc’s | pt. 1

hi i am an absolute slut for university au’s in case you couldn’t tell so i just had to write some for my first BSD post. also this is going to be slightly ooc because i am a crackhead

check out pt. 2 here

***********************************************

Atsushi Nakajima:

he’s definitely the kind of guy who still had no idea what he’d take up in university even after he was accepted

either wants to not major in anything at all or just major in everything because he’s also scared that he’ll eventually not like what he’s majoring in

so for his first two years you’d probably find him jumping around different classes

also he still calls the professors ‘teacher ____’ like a high school student and everyone laughs but thinks its cute

eventually, because of his *cough cough* traumatic childhood he decided he wanted to help children by becoming a guidance counselor

he ends up taking Child Psychology and bOY does he love it so much

well he actually just loves all of his classes because Learning is Fun

although because of his *cough cough* traumatic childhood he’s the one in class that people are all like 👀👀

atsushi: *talking about children’s responses to fear and emotional abuse by talking about his own emotional abuse*

the professor, under their breath: wait, do you need help??

i can definitely see atsushi as a Roommate of the Year kind of guy. he’s just so polite and tidy with his room. also he’d definitely be the type to take care of plants inside the dorm room and put them on the windowsill

in terms of extracurricular activities, he’s definitely a sporty type of person so i can see him joining a varsity (something like Frisbee because he likes things that go whoooosh) but he’d probably join a student org that does stuff like community outreach

because of all this, he is a Very Busy Boy but his friends do manage to drag him out to parties once in a while

although atsushi would probably sit in a corner and drink only one beer for the entire night

he’s notorious for helping drunk people though. most of the time he’ll be putting blankets on people and making them drink water

if he knew how to drive he’d definitely be the designated driver

Akiko Yosano:

omg i’m so excited for this i love yosano so much

she’s the friend who’s just effortlessly awesome all around and a fricking MED STUDENT to top it all off

she gets a bit too excited when it’s dissection time but it’s alright she has good intentions

probably the only one in your class who doesn’t go and throw up whenever a cadaver is being used (actually do they still use cadavers i have absolutely no idea)

she also interns at the local hospital as part of her degree program but OMG yosano will not stop telling disgusting stories about the patients she’s had

everyone: *eating lunch peacefully in the dining hall*

yosano: so i pulled a guy’s toe out of a meat grinder this morning

everyone: sHUT UP

for some reason she still has a social life despite being a med student and it’s one of the mysteries of life i guess

yosano LOVES going out clubbing on friday nights. if you have the fortune of being her roommate, be prepared for make-overs and being dragged with her out to the city

she’s such a social butterfly like at every bar you go to, the bartender knows her name and her regular order. she’d probably end the night befriending a couple more people

also she’s amazing at karaoke i kid you not

as for extracurricular life, i don’t think yosano’s the type to join an org that’s related to her major cause like ‘what’s the point?’

instead, she’d probably go wherever her friends are because to her, she’ll enjoy any activity as long as she’s with people she loves

but when it comes to her own interests, i can definitely see yosano as someone who loves the outdoors, especially hiking after having to be cooped up inside clinics

it just makes her love and appreciate the value of life more

Kunikida Doppo:

ok, i KNOW he was a math teacher before he joined the ADA bUT i can’t help but think of him as a political science major ??

i can definitely imagine kunikida as someone who’d want to become a lawyer someday and would take political science as a pre-law

he does like the idea of following in the footsteps of great men but omg kunikida would absolutely hate the exclusivity of white, male political theorists

he is such a good student except for when his professor has some sketchy values then kunikida will !! fight him !! every !! chance !! he gets !!

raises his hand constantly to contradict his professor if they even tRY to defend thomas hobbes and authoritarianism

but other than that he’s probably the most diligent student out there. kunikida genuinely enjoys doing the readings for class and writing essays

also has such a balanced schedule that he can make time for anything and everything

except for when his friends dazai drag him out to parties and get a social life

despite how rigid he is, kunikida has absolutely no problem helping out others with learning. he often holds study sessions in his dorm room or in the library before exams

he also likes to volunteer in tutorial centers because he’s just like that

OH OH some of his ‘students’ suggested that he make crash-course type videos for political science and it took some convincing but eventually kunikida decided to go for it

he’s not the most tech savvy or photogenic person so it took some time for him to get used to things but after seeing all the comments from people who benefited from it, he decided to continue with his crash course videos

whether or not he’s the best or worst roommate is completely up to you. if you like someone who’ll basically micromanage your life from your daily schedule to your study habits, you’ll absolutely love him

he doesn’t like to go out for parties that much but he will if his friends convince him enough (kunikida’s an utter lightweight when it comes to drinking though)

Osamu Dazai:

i genuinely have a hard time thinking about what this guy’s major would be and tbh even his friends have been wondering what dazai’s major was for TWO YEARS

that’s because he keeps taking the most random ass classes like Basic Pottery or Intro to Molecular Biology in the same semester

idk how he even plans to graduate at this point

although to be honest, i can definitely see him as a philosophy major despite the fact that i LOATHE every male classmate i’ve had who’s a philosophy major (idk they’re always so condescending)

i feel like dazai’s just taking that because it’s somewhat challenging for him but to him, university life is just more of crazy experiences rather than learning

and oh my god has he gotten up to the weirdest shit

the number of times he had to climb gates or sleep on benches at three a.m. is too many to count

dazai also loves volunteering for random things like people’s thesis projects (once, he offered to be a snake venom tester to a bio student and they told him that was illegal) or even being the school’s mascot in games

also he and kunikida probably met each other in freshman year at an intro to philosophy class and oh my god did dazai get on his nerves

what’s worse was that they had to work on a group project together and dazai was MIA most of the time and it drove kunikida crazy

that is until dazai showed up last minute to pull an all-nighter with him for their paper and kunikida just couldn’t help but be impressed by dazai’s ~~intellect~~

they don’t exactly get along but they do have some mutual respect for each other enough to work on projects well

omg if dazai ends up being your roommate I WISH YOU LUCK

the first time you walked into your room dazai was microwaving a metal bowl and you had to run to stop it in time

also he has a tendency to wear his headphones and sing his favorite double suicide song out loud

kunikida please come pick him up

Edogawa Ranpo:

i love this one man so much i swear to god

ranpo is definitely the kind of person who just didn’t like school so when college applications came around he was just like ‘why bother though ???’

his friends did convince him by saying that he wouldn’t have to do subjects he wouldn’t like and just focus on his major (this is a lie btw)

is it a surprise that ranpo would choose forensic science ?? NO

he thinks its cool that he can learn about something he’s already super good at and it just gets him really pumped up to show off how good he is

LOVES getting praised by his classmates and professors

ranpo probably thinks lectures are boring as hell so sometimes he just,,, doesn’t,,, come,,, to class

if attendance IS required you can bet he’s bringing snacks and game consoles with him and sitting WAAAAY in the back of the room

Mukbang at a Lecture Hall with Edogawa Ranpo

his classmates think its cute that he puts on glasses before doing exams or answering his prof’s questions as a way to hype himself up

everyone calls him ‘The Greatest Detective’ and ranpo LOVES IT

despite that, he’s not too overly social he just likes being with his close group of friends UwU

he’s also someone you can drag around to places like the fair or an aquarium, but he’s not into clubbing or drinking for that matter

he DOES enjoy seeing his friends get drunk and mess with them though

ranpo isn’t into joining student organizations BUT he gets scouted a lot by detective agencies and he likes interning for them

i’m saying detective agencies because police are gross

ranpo did end up joining a baking club with the assumption that he would just be EATING the cake and not BAKING the cake

yeah he was just there for less than half a semester

***********************************************

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @tpwkatsumu @laure-chan

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #atsushi nakajima #akiko yosano #kunikida doppo #osamu dazai #edogawa ranpo #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd writing #bungou stray dogs writing #bsd university au #bungou stray dogs university au #bsd imagines #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd scenarios #bungou stray dogs scenarios

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ahgaseda · 4 years

Text

aura | one

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

The sun was too bright. Rays pierced the gossamer curtains and shone into your eyes. You vaguely recollected your mother bursting in and throwing the windows open, ordering you to get up. Now, the sun had risen and you were cutting it close.

With a grumble, you threw the blanket over your head and rolled over, eager to sleep the day away. And maybe tomorrow, too.

Being in a constant state of denial and dread was exhausting.

Slowly, you drifted back into a dream. Well, maybe less a dream and more a memory. Perhaps it was all a fantasy at this point, the way you recounted it, lingering on only the good parts.

You remembered every insignificant detail of that night - the night you reached your greatest high and deepest low in the span of an hour. The moon had been full and the crickets were singing. The air had cooled from its typical summer heat, but the dirt was warm beneath your bare toes.

Sneaking off in the middle of the night with a boy. You would have never in your wildest dreams done something so reckless.

But he said he wanted to watch the stars and kiss you beneath the moonlight. Endlessly. You escaped with him down the beaten path, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. Then, he backed you against a tree and kissed you like he had completely run out of patience.

You remembered smiling against his mouth, giggling when his tongue teased your bottom lip. Your hands were on his shoulders while he cradled your face. At some point, you broke away and he stared at the sparkles in your eyes.

“I love you,” was all he said. The first of many lies.

You followed him. It didn’t matter where he went, you were ready to follow him off the edge of the earth if he asked. Jaebeom held you so tenderly, yet tight and secure. You had no hesitations and certainly no regrets when he laid you on your back, kissing you restlessly.

But it was a lie.

You moaned his name when Jaebeom pressed his lips to your neck. You could still remember how your heart thundered uncontrollably whilst he tongued his way between your breasts. You had never wanted someone as badly as you wanted Jaebeom. The boy who made you fall in love with him.

But it was all a lie.

Even the way you whimpered when he took you was a persistent echo in your mind. The noises he had drawn from you were carnal, to say the least. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, his hair damp when you tangled your hand through his strands, and his naked body heavy on top of yours. He kissed you with such gentle affection when he buried himself inside you.

But it was still a lie.

You truly believed he was making love to you, every last inch of you. He was all you knew in that moment. With Jaebeom, you lived like there was no tomorrow. And you would never forget the way his face tensed with ecstasy, how he groaned your name when he filled you. All you cared about in that moment was his pleasure - his love. It was all you ever wanted.

But it was his biggest lie.

You opened your eyes, tears escaping down your cheeks, and forced away the bitter memories. Every beautiful moment spent with Jaebeom kept coming back and you wanted to set them all aflame until you forgot every single fucking detail.

You remembered how he smelled, how he felt. How his arms flexed around you when he hugged you close. How he smiled when he made you laugh. How he kissed your hand at the most random of times. How he whispered his love into the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

Your heart couldn’t take it anymore. What was once sugar on your tongue turned to ash and dust in your mouth. You didn’t think you were capable of this much pain.

Jaebeom had taught you a very hard lesson. And yet, though you would never admit it to anyone, you still loved him.

Suddenly, the door to your bedroom burst open and a familiar voice announced, “Rise and shine, dear!”

It belonged to your best friend, your childhood rival, and most inconveniently, your next door neighbor.

“Jackson,” you groaned, muffled against your pillow. “Not now. Go away.”

“Baby, you know we on a schedule,” he chirped with the speed of a man who had already ingested too much coffee, grabbing your comforter and ripping it off the bed without mercy.

You cried out at the unexpected cold on your bare legs, curling into the fetal position to try and trap some warmth to your body. You then bounced lightly on the mattress as Jackson leapt into the air and landed on your bed in the most spectacular fashion.

His face moved predictably before yours, inches away, and he was sporting a grin that could be filed under Jackson’s trademarked twisted delight. “It’s camp day,” he said excitedly.

You blinked. “I know.”

Jackson sat up and reached over to smack your butt. “Get up,” he yelled, sidling off your bed. “Breakfast will get cold.”

You huffed profanities under your breath and clambered after him.

Downstairs, your mother and stepfather sat at the kitchen table. Maids attended to them, waiting on their every move. Such was commonplace in the penthouses of preternaturally wealthy people.

“Ah, I knew you could handle it, Jackson,” your mother crooned.

Jackson plopped down at one end of the table, opposite your stepfather with his nose buried in a newspaper. You finished tying the knot of your fluffy bathrobe and took the empty seat across from your mother.

“Everything is packed and loaded in the car,” she informed, her tone a little harsher where you were concerned.

“I promise, Mom,” you began, eyes cast downward. “I won’t go back there again.”

It was true. You were so caught up in negative ways of coping that by the time you realized you were going to get yourself sent back to the one place you would be forced to see Jaebeom again, it was too late.

“Well, if only you had found that resolve last year,” she chided, stabbing a piece of melon with her fork.

You clocked a glance at your friend. Jackson happily stuffed his face, eating everything in sight. Despite living in the penthouse next to yours, with his equally wealthy parents, Jackson opted to eat at your table more often than not.

Preferably so he wouldn’t have to listen to his parents fighting.

“Can we expect the same promise from you, Jackson?” your mother asked, as if she were speaking to her favorite puppy.

She always did love Jackson. He was like the son she never had. Although, in her defense, it wasn’t hard to love Jackson. He was the golden child that every mother’s wet dream was made of.

“Absolutely not,” he retorted politely, grinning from ear to ear. “Some of my closest friends are at that camp.”

Your mother chuckled, having expected as much.

Your stepfather finally lowered the corner of his paper and called your name sternly, as if oblivious - or uncaring - to the conversation taking place.

You glanced up.

“Eat your food. It’s a long drive and I’ll hear nothing of you getting faint on your first day.”

Jackson and your mother both looked to you expectantly.

You flashed him a soft smile and said, “Yes, sir.”

Stepfather number three, despite having more money than God, was surprisingly kind and considered you one of his own. There was a time you overheard him say you were the daughter he always wanted. His three sons had far surpassed mischief and landed in deviance, always on the hunt for his money.

The maid offered sweetly to make you some breakfast, whatever you would like, and you accepted. Jackson swiftly reached over and pinched your cheek in approval.

Most respectable parents would never be so lenient toward a friendship between a girl and a boy, but you knew your mother was hoping you and Jackson would get together. It would be a fine match in high society, given the status of your fathers.

Matter of fact, when she walked in on the two of you eating chocolate and watching movies while cuddled in bed, she was thoroughly disappointed you weren’t having sex.

When you finished eating, you dragged your feet upstairs to your room to get dressed for the trip. Jackson took a few extra minutes to clear his plate and then joined you.

Standing in front of three full panel mirrors in your bra and underwear, you alternated holding skirts up to yourself in the reflection. Jackson folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“What does one wear for total humiliation?” you asked dryly, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Plaid probably,” he quipped, uncrossing his arms and slipping into your closet.

You turned, brow furrowed, and waited for him to come back.

When Jackson finally emerged, he tossed you a t-shirt and jeans. Casual at its finest.

You caught the clothes and surveyed them in surprise. “Really?”

“Put ‘em on,” he said, clapping his hands. “Let’s blow this town.”

You pulled the extra tight jeans on, fastening them with a huff, and pestered, “Do you have to be this excited?”

Jackson came close, taking your face between his hands and pushing your cheeks together. “The sooner we get there, the faster we can get drunk.”

You snickered, rolling your eyes.

The two of you came thundering down the stairs, reminiscent of times you and Jackson slid down the banisters as noisy kids. Your mother waited stiffly at the door, almost cracking a smile when you galloped into the kitchen and pressed a kiss in farewell to your stepfather’s cheek.

She may have been after his money like a cat on a mouse, but she inadvertently found a decent father for her only daughter.

Jackson said his hurried, loud goodbyes and slipped through the open door. You slowed down long enough to take your jacket from your mother’s waiting hand and endure one last scrutinizing gaze.

“Is he seeing someone?” she asked softly.

“Nope,” you chuckled, having expected some backhanded remark about your outfit.

Your mother spoke like she read a whimsical poem, “The two of you would make the most perfect couple this side of the Hudson.”

“Love you, too, Mom,” you teased, pecking a kiss on her cheek and trotting out the door.

The limousine rolled out onto the busy streets of New York City and you peered through the tinted windows. You watched as the looming skyscrapers turned to towering green trees.

As the drive went on, your nerves only grew.

With misplaced optimism, you turned to Jackson and said, “Maybe he won’t be there this year.”

Jackson didn’t even look up from his magazine and droned, “He’s been there every year since he was seven.”

You slumped in your seat, defeated. Clapping a hand on your forehead in self-chastisement, you groaned, “I should have been better, not worse.”

Jackson shifted, leaning back against you and resting his head on your chest. “I’ve never seen you so out of control,” he exclaimed, turning a page in the magazine. “And that says a lot.”

It said plenty. Jackson had warned you about Jaebeom many, many times. Though you held his opinion in high regard, you didn’t listen. You were blinded by love and had no one to blame but yourself.

You grabbed a handful of his brown hair and tugged playfully, earning a tiny whine. “Yeah, well,” you murmured, acerbic. “He stole all of the goodness out of me.”

Jackson scoffed and his tone became stern, “Don’t give him so much credit. And don’t put all of your goodness on your virginity, for fuck’s sake.”

You sighed loudly, thinking about Jaebeom and how he made your pulse race, how he sent fire racing down your spine. The thought of him made you want to cry and you quickly clenched your jaws.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I’m a bad girl now,” you countered, draping your arm over his chest. “I surrendered my virtuous flower to a boy who added another notch to his bed post.”

Of your memories with Jaebeom, and they were countless, among the stolen kisses and soft touches and sweet words, one stood out above all the rest. The last time you saw him - when he told you it was all a lie, just a game.

That he never loved you.

Jackson sat up, setting down his magazine and facing you. He could feel where your thoughts had wandered, screaming at him to ease the pain despite no words leaving your mouth. Meeting your eyes, Jackson wanted you to hear him even though the two of you had been over it many times already.

“You loved him,” he said, sympathetic but firm. “And he made it a good experience for you. Take that away from it.”

“You’re right,” you replied with a nod, holding back the tears and the quivering of your lip. “I need to let it go.”

Jackson cocked his head and pressed, “But?”

He knew you too well.

“But I can’t,” you whispered, lowering your head to hide your face in shame. “I can’t get over being in love with someone who never - not even for a moment - loved me back.”

Jackson balled his hands into fists. It had taken every inch of his goddamn restraint not to hop a plane, show up at Lim Jaebeom’s house, and beat the living shit out of him. You and his mother were the only people he was willing to go to jail for.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wiped away the one tear that had escaped. You hated Jackson having to see you like this, staring at you like his precious wounded puppy. With a shrug, you gave a scoff and said, “I wonder who he will have his eyes on this year.”

Jackson frowned and settled back into his seat, shaking his head where the likes of Jaebeom was concerned. He knew three months of unadulterated fun for him were going to be total misery for you. For days he racked his brain over what he could do to help you get over Jaebeom.

Then, the metaphorical light bulb clicked over his head. Who would Jaebeom be pursuing this year? With you crossed off his list, there were simply no more challenges to be had.

Jackson smirked. The solution to this problem was clear as day. He would have to make Jaebeom chase you again.

“I have an idea,” Jackson muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming with devilish intent.

“Oh, boy,” you laughed, recognizing his telltale mischief.

Jackson faced you, propping himself on hands positioned at either side of your legs. “You help me bag Yeona and I will help you make Jaebeom jealous,” he said, letting his tongue linger at the corner of his mouth.

Your expression registered nothing but surprise. Yeona was the bane of Jackson’s romantic skills and the eye of his conquests for years. She was the only girl at camp not the least bit impressed with him and that drove him crazy.

At that thought you realized the similar dynamic. “Do you think that would work?” you asked curiously, piqued.

Relieved to see your approval, Jackson nodded. “He’s like me. He wants what he can’t have.”

To some degree, Jackson added in his head. He and Jaebeom had totally different motivations for stealing hearts.

You questioned in disbelief, “So… what? We just walk around making out all the time?”

Jackson snorted. “Within moderation, obviously. Don’t want to completely turn off either of our targets.”

One of the main reasons you never hooked up with Jackson (on more than one occasion you had been tempted) was to spite your insufferable mother after what she had put you through. That being said, you had kissed him more than once. Usually when dared to do so at parties or during sleepovers when you bared your deepest, darkest secrets to each other. It was always innocent, but this felt forbidden and impure.

You loved the idea.

“Hm, okay,” you said, noncommittal. “At this point, I’ll do anything to make him as miserable as I am.”

Jackson grinned and chuckled. “Take my word for it. There is nothing more miserable than blue balls.”

You pursed your lips, mulling, “He’s already had me. He won’t want me again.”

“I’ll convince him you’re worth having,” Jackson replied, his voice a deep rumble in his throat. “And you’ll do the same to Yeona about me.”

“What makes you think Yeona will be that hard to get? You’ve never really pursued her before.”

Jackson slid to the edge of the seat and reached for a bottle of alcohol currently sitting on ice. “She doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”

That explained why he threw in the towel so quickly. You cocked a brow and chuckled, “Really?”

Jackson nodded, popping open the bottle of champagne and grabbing two glasses. “Yeah, even wears a promise ring.”

“Wow, that’s commitment,” you smarted, taking the flute of bubbly he extended to you.

Jackson glanced up briefly before pouring his own glass, hair falling in his eyes, and said, “Don’t wallow in self-pity again.”

You rolled your eyes and quickly defended, “No, I’m not. It’s just… I wasn’t saving myself for marriage, but I was saving myself for someone that loved me.”

Jackson exhaled loudly.

You hated hearing his disappointment and ranted irritably, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It wasn’t even good. There was no leg shaking orgasm. It was messy and uncomfortable and whatever.”

“That’s because it was your first time,” Jackson said, putting the glass to his lips.

You took a sip. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jackson leaned on his side, sizing you up. His eyes drifted up and down your body. He hated seeing you bent out of shape over a boy, least of all hot garbage like Lim Jaebeom.

After a pause, the following words dripped like honey off his tongue, “We could fool around, you know.”

You almost choked on your champagne, wondering if you heard him clearly or if it was a figment of your imagination. You exclaimed, “What?”

“You and me,” Jackson continued, sidling closer. “I could show you what all the fuss is about.”

He sounded so smug when he said that, his voice even deeper. You swallowed at the offer and asked, “Would that be awkward?”

“No, it would just be sex. No strings attached.”

The knife in your heart twisted and you peered at him. “Could you make me forget about Jaebeom?”

Jackson leaned in. “Baby, I could make you see stars.”

Heat flushed behind your cheeks and you glanced away, faltering under the sudden tension in the limousine. “I’ll think about it,” you finally told him.

Satisfied, Jackson grinned and made himself comfortable, opening the magazine again and proceeding to read.

You surveyed Jackson out of the corner of your eye, lingering on his thick thighs. Years of fencing had built him strong, sturdy. When Jackson said he could make you see stars, you were inclined to believe him.

Especially since the vast majority of his exes tended to brag about how good he was in bed.

You thought about Jaebeom. You wanted him to go crazy at the sight of you in Jackson’s arms. You craved revenge, to serve him a taste of his own medicine, no matter what it cost.

The car eventually came to a stop on the gravel road. Attendants were ready to unload your luggage and transport it to your respective rooms. It may have been a camp for unruly brats, but said brats came from very affluent parents.

An older woman stood by the gate, black hair glistening a little too fiercely in the sunlight. Clearly she had sprayed dye on her graying roots.

“Ah, you two again,” she grimaced at yours and Jackson’s approach.

You took the keys from her outstretched hand and continued on your way without a word. Jackson on the other hand, leaned in with puckered lips and jeered, “Always a pleasure, Miss Hamm.”

“Hmph.”

You continued on the path with your best friend in tow. Your cabin was in sight, on the bluff beside the lake. Jackson’s was adjacent, slightly lower down. Your parents made sure you had the same spots each year, always furnished and equipped with everything you needed.

Some of the campers lived in bunkhouses with other roommates, but not you. Your first year, you swore to your mother if you were forced to bunk with other girls you would not stop until you got yourself sent home. It was an easy compromise to make. She loved traveling during the summer with stepfather number two.

You stopped and pivoted to Jackson, saying, “I’m gonna go freshen up.”

“Alright,” he replied. “Meet at the mess hall?”

Naturally his mind was on food, you mused. “Of course.”

Jackson looped an arm around your waist and pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, “Don’t hide in there from him. Remember - I got your back.”

You nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek in gratitude.

The two of you broke away at the fork in the road, taking opposite paths to your cabins.

Dropping your purse, you plopped down on the brand new mattress, gripping the sides and looking down at your shoes. The air conditioning had been turned on, the cabin had already cooled off. You would never know how hot it was outside whilst inside your pink-themed prison.

The camp was meant to reform. It didn’t matter that you were a legal adult, you still belonged to a rich and influential family in high society. It was like the parents knew their spoiled, entitled children would indulge in bad behaviors, therefore it was best they did so in controlled environments.

You already imagined the endless nights of booze and debauchery awaiting you for the next three months. Maybe it was time you embraced the darker side of life like you used to, rather than wasting away and pining over a boy.

Rising from the bed, you approached the nearby bathroom and braced your hands on the sink. Studying your reflection, you wanted to curse. You looked like a shadow of your former self.

The girl you knew was confident, vivacious, and a rebel to the core. You were quieter now, tempered. An experience like last summer had opened your eyes to how cruel the world really was.

Still, you were ready to buck up. Jackson had a plan and you were willing to execute if it meant you would have some kind of absolution. Splashing water on your face, you dabbed your cheeks with a cloth and headed outside.

The largest of the buildings, the mess hall was loud and chaotic. The majority of kids went straight to the line for food, hungry after a long trip. The place was alive with a hundred different conversations, varying levels of chatter. Friends reunited dramatically in the aisleways.

You searched for a friendly face, desperate to avoid Jaebeom for now, and spotted a head of platinum hair. Approaching the scrawny boy, you grabbed a handful of blond locks and teased, “Bam, I thought you were gonna let your poor scalp breathe?”

Bambam didn’t flinch at the brief tug on his head and turned to meet your grin with one of his own. “Hey, beautiful,” he exclaimed, leaping up to envelope you in a warm hug. “Thought you were gonna try and avoid this place for once?”

“Yeah, well,” you said coolly with a shrug. “Bad behaviors are hard to break.”

“You’re telling me,” huffed Bambam as he lowered back onto the row with you at his side. “I landed myself back here in the first week of the semester.”

You laughed, smoothing down where you had disrupted his hair. “I expect nothing less.” Looking across the table, you met eyes with Bambam’s best friend and partner in crime, Yugyeom, and greeted, “Hey, Yugy.”

“Hi. I’m glad you came back! Well, not glad, obviously, but…,” Yugyeom rambled, cheeks reddening. “Happy you’re here. You know, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Thanks,” you replied shyly.

“Any sign of Jackson?” Bambam asked, glancing around. “Don’t you always come together?”

Yugyeom kindly pushed his plate of fruit in your direction and you thanked him. “Yeah, we did. He was supposed to meet me here,” you answered, popping a grape in your mouth.

“Probably sneaking a smoke with Mark,” Bambam grumbled quietly under his breath.

Yugyeom cleared his throat loudly, looking at something behind you.

Just as you turned around, brows stitched, someone sat at your side.

It was Jaebeom.

He didn’t face the table like the rest of you, he straddled the seat, squarely in your direction.

“Hi, baby girl. Imagine my surprise when I heard about all the trouble you got yourself into,” Jaebeom taunted, clicking his tongue in feigned reproach. His fingertips came to your temple, slipping through your loose hair and tucking it behind your ear.

You couldn’t breathe and you certainly couldn’t think. Your heart was pounding in your chest. He smelled so good. The mere touch of his fingers made you freeze in place. You wanted nothing more than to throw your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“I…,” you trailed, hesitating, lost for words. What the hell were you supposed to say?

I love you, but I hate you.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Jaebeom cooed, stroking a finger over your cheek. “Cat got your tongue?”

You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes. Even Yugyeom seethed at how Jaebeom was toying with you.

This was the humiliation you had been anticipating and dreading. You knew Jaebeom wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to remind you that he stole your heart and your virginity and left you with nothing.

The whole camp knew that you had given it up. That you had been such a fool to believe for a second that Jaebeom loved you.

Blind. Blind. Blind, you chanted in your head.

Jackson appeared out of thin air, grabbing Jaebeom’s wrist and pulling him from you. “Can I help you find something?” your best friend snapped.

Jaebeom rose, agitated at being challenged. “The fuck are you doing, Wang?”

Jackson drifted closer to Jaebeom, aggressive. “Keep your hands off my girl.”

Jaebeom’s eyes widened. “Your girl?”

“You heard me,” Jackson hissed, turning to you.

You remembered the game. Jackson’s eyes were expectant.

Finding your voice, you took a breath. “I’m so sorry to break the news to you, Jaebeom,” you began softly, rising from your seat and backing into Jackson, who didn’t miss a beat in wrapping his arms possessively around you. “I’ve moved onto bigger and better things. And I mean much, much bigger.”

Bambam beat his fist on the table, cackling wildly.

Jaebeom scowled, but there was skepticism bold in his eyes. Jackson promptly wiggled his brows and stroked his hands on your waist, intentionally making your shirt ride up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” you sang, interlacing your fingers with Jackson’s underneath the hem of your shirt. “We’re gonna go make out in the hallway. Seeing Daddy get territorial really does it for me.”

Jackson wagged his tongue at Jaebeom, gladly laughing at his expense, as you squeezed his hand and proceeded to drag your best friend behind you into the hallway.

Jaebeom watched you go, eyes narrowed. Something didn’t sit right with him. He had known you for years, Jackson too. He couldn’t imagine driving you into Jackson’s arms. Not with how fierce and loyal your friendship was.

He didn’t believe it for a second.

Once in the clear, you backed against the wall and giggled. “Oh my god, did you see his face?” you exclaimed, covering your mouth as you chuckled.

Jackson tickled your sides and joked, “Look at your little sick and twisted self. I’m so proud.”

The door next to you opened and like clockwork, Jaebeom stepped out.

The grin vanished from your face in an instant and you quickly grabbed Jackson by the collar, yanking him forward. Jackson collided into you none too gently and grunted, silenced only by your lips suddenly on his.

Jaebeom could hardly believe his eyes. There you were, swept up in Jackson’s arms with your tongue down his throat. He was green with fucking envy. It had taken him a whole summer to open you up and now you were throwing yourself at Jackson of all people.

Jackson slipped his hands beneath your shirt and roamed his hands up your sides, giving Jaebeom a glimpse of your soft skin. You overlapped your arms around his head, making little noises in the heat of his kisses.

Jaebeom felt a twitch in his pants at the sounds you made. That was supposed to be him. You were supposed to be in his arms, kissing him like he was all you had thought about every day since he ripped your heart out and crushed it in his hand for all to see.

“Pfft,” Jaebeom snorted, hiding his jealousy. “Glad I could break her in for you, Jacks.”

Neither of you heard him, which was lucky for Jaebeom because Jackson would not have hesitated to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Jaebeom cleared out. He couldn’t stand to watch anymore. Not when he had spent every day wondering if you would forgive him. Jaebeom shook his head as he continued down the hall, reminded what a stupid fucking mistake he had made.

Kissing Jackson made you forget what you were doing, where you were, and basically any and all information you were meant to be processing at the moment. Finally a sense of clarity hit you, though you had no earthly clue where it had come from.

Breaking away, you panted, “Okay, if we’re gonna do this, we have to lay down some ground rules.”

Jackson kneaded your waist and nipped at your lips, ever flirtatious. His voice came out a rasp when he said, “Give ‘em to me.”

“No sleeping around,” you told him sternly. “I’ve never had a sexually transmitted disease and I’m not starting now.”

Jackson bobbed his head, eager to kiss you again. “Deal.”

“When you get Yeona or I get Jaebeom, what’s between us is done.”

“Agreed.”

You softened, pulling him close for a brief, innocent peck on the lips. It wasn’t the first time you had kissed Jackson and it wouldn’t be the last.

But you realized when you were kissing Jackson, you forgot about Jaebeom and your feelings.

And that was dangerous.

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered delicately, tracing hair from his brow lightly with your fingers. “If either of us starts getting feelings, we shut this down.”

Jackson studied you a moment. He knew he loved you. He had loved you a long time. But it was an innocent love, not a complicated one. You were the only person he trusted with his heart. The only person he knew would never hurt him.

He wouldn’t catch feelings for you, would he? It wasn’t in his nature. He didn’t allow himself to get attached romantically. He hated the idea of commitment or monogamy, after seeing what his parents’ marriage had devolved into.

“Got it,” Jackson finally said, offering a gentle smile.

You swallowed, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back. Jaebeom was gone. There was no one to convince anymore.

Jackson let his hands slip from your body. “We should go back.”

You nodded. “Yeah, just give me a second.”

Jackson noted the heat on your face, the glistening of your lips and the twinkles in your eyes. Forget making you see stars, Jackson knew in that moment he could absolutely ruin you.

He gathered you back in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and as you peered up at him confusedly, Jackson growled, “Let’s go to my cabin.”

A long, heavy silence wrapped around you and him. The weight of what you were doing landed squarely on your shoulders. And despite that, you found yourself not giving a damn.

Lips tugging in a smile, you purred, “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

But even as Jackson led you by the hand out of the mess hall, you glanced over your shoulder, looking for Jaebeom.

Wanting him to see. Wanting it to hurt him. Wanting to make him crazy.

But mostly, just wanting him to love you.

next chapter →

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #got7 smut #jackson smut #jaebum smut #jackson wang smut #im jaebum smut #got7 fanfic #got7 fic #got7 au #jackson wang fanfic #jackson wang fic #jackson wang au #im jaebum fanfic #im jaebum fic #im jaebum au #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #got7 imagine

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

Note

hey,,,your thoughts and headcanons on indchuran college au 😳😳😳😳😳(i am very predictable as per usual)

o-o o-o college aus have my heart so thank you for the ask! These turned out as platonic/general hcs but I hope you like them nonetheless! (also this isn’t really associated with any set AU and is separate from the indchuran bros for life AU)

notes: this is based on the little I know about how US colleges/universities work ahahah sorry for any inaccuracies lol

— They’re all in the same year, and China and India got put in a dorm together with Iran next door (oh my god they were roommates ;) )

— They meet when Roshan heard Aditya’s got a copy of a book they wanted, went over to borrow it, and found Aditya trolling Yao with meme songs while the latter was wearing headphones and trying to study (this is kinda half assed and I don’t think it’s funny enough so if you’ve got another meeting scenario please do tell 👀)

— Yao’s fashion is a hot mess, per usual. It’s half lazy college student wear and half blinding eye-strain. Sometimes he still goes edgelord mode and does dark colors and goth attire when he’s particularly annoyed or grumpy (in addition to threatening to evict Aditya/steal all his possessions if he’s bugging Yao); Aditya and Roshan just coo at this.

— Roshan dresses very eccentrically. I think it’s called the art hoe aesthetic? They dress like an art student but pick even more outlandish outfits. But it’s elegant in an eye-catching way, and it makes them stand out a lot. They like it and also love the attention it gets them :) also Roshan would be an amazing person to ask for clothing opinions, except that they might criticize your current outfits too much hksdfsdf

— As for Aditya, I don’t really have a set image for him really? lol I'd give anything to see him dressed in some kind of academia aesthetic (glasses are a bonus), but I feel like his style is more casual and comfy? just average person casual shirts and hoodies. Still knows how to pick good outfits though, but makes awful decisions when in the wrong headspace (like being Severely sleep deprived)

— Yao either studies a) business b) politics c) game theory d) a mix of all three (overachiever). I think he’d also take some of those like, quantum math classes and stuff just to ~expand his horizons~ and ends up taking enough to get a minor in that. Also absorbs STEM stuff from other people although he never went that route :\

— Roshan studies art history! They’re wicked at math as well though, I think they’d definitely be interested in studying pure mathematics as either a minor or a fun side hobby.

— Aditya minors in literature/creative writing and regularly waxes poetic about life. He also complains about the school cafeteria food in flowery prose. Yao yells at him to just make food himself if it’s so bad, but it’s too much effort 😔 (this is literally me)

I’m still undecided on what he majors in, but for now I’m stealing your hc that it’s biophysics :>

— Yao’s tried dabbling in stocks as part class project and part personal side hobby; one of his professors probably helps him with this, and somehow he gets a lot of money even though he invests in some very questionable things that look like shitpost material

— Courtesy of talking with @luyous, these three competitively study during midterms/finals season. They hardcore compete to get the best grades, even though they’re in different majors, and literally. the temperature heats up a couple degrees in the dorm when they’re revising because they all want to “beat” the other two 😭

— Literally they’re such bookworms but have a thirst for being The Best 😔

— Yao has a shit sleep schedule and both Aditya and Roshan have called him out on this multiple times; Aditya more often because they share a room and it’s kind of annoying when your roommate’s desk lamp is still on at 3 AM while you’re supposed to be sleeping. He eventually bought an eye mask for this but still has to forcibly drag Yao to bed at least once a week.

— Aditya is the resident boomer and tech hoe (although he fools around on the computer more than he does useful stuff) inspiration from you raunak <3

— Roshan and Aditya once tricked Yao into watering a fake plant they bought from Target for a full five months :) They keep a log of the shenanigans on their respective social medias as proof <3

— Roshan has a windowsill with a line of very cute potted plants! It’s very aesthetic and they show them off to anyone who asks. Don’t touch though because the plants are their babies

— Aditya sings very well! Has perfect pitch and all that. Does karaoke nights with friends, drags Yao along even though all he does there is type away on his laptop (and sometimes glances up to simp for Aditya). Often prank calls acquaintances, occasionally with Roshan, because he’s also pretty good at voice acting

— Out of the three, Aditya’s probably the friendliest if you’re a stranger, but it do be hard trying to build a friendship with any of them 😔 yao’s condescending to strangers and it takes some time to crack him if you don’t come off as quick-witted and smart on the first try, Roshan doesn’t really take people they just met super seriously unless they can impress/charm them, Aditya’s flashy but is kinda flaky and sometimes talks down to you and seems to always have something else to do besides hanging out one on one unless you win his respect. They’re good with each other though, occasional spats are mostly misunderstandings unless there’s Too Much miscommunication going on

— They’re all kinda legends for academic achievements. Roshan probably got a paper published in some vaunted journal about idk, changing methods of making pottery in ancient Iran or something; Yao has his stocks (and is also kinda rich in the first place so he’s “famous” before that) and Aditya probably got an internship or opportunity to do lab work for a cutting edge research thing

— they no-homo each other all the time it’s insane. It doesn’t help that they’re in close quarters (Yao and Aditya being roommates and Roshan right next door) so it’s like, accidentally wearing the other’s clothes, stealing snacks, so much touching and closeness lol classic pining material

— Yao jokes at least once a day that Roshan is just a parasite of his and Aditya’s dorm, with the amount of time they spend in there instead of in their own dorm, but they sniff haughtily and say that at least their dorm is much more organized than whatever indchu have going on (it’s true; Yao believes in organized chaos and pretends his organization system is having No Organization; Aditya just does whatever he wants and “anyways I’ll find it when I need it”, Roshan is the only sane one here)

— Roshan drinks tea religiously (all three of them do, but Yao chugs energy drinks sometimes, Aditya binges coffee when needed, whereas Roshan’s solution is tea)

— They’re kinda chaotic but it’s fine they’ll make it through uni :)

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malfoymanortings · 4 years

Text

lavender velvet //part five

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: to be decided.

hello again! as always, if you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know! thank you to everyone who gave me feedback last update. it really makes my day. enjoy! xx

“We’ve got to wake them up, it’s nearly time to leave!”

“I can’t imagine Georgie would be too happy if we broke up their little cuddle sesh.”

“Fred!”

“Will the lot of you shut the bloody hell up?” Juliet groaned, lifting her head off George’s chest. At some point in the night, it appeared she had laid her head on his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair, their legs twisted together. The bare skin of her thigh rested against his crotch, and her cheeks flamed as she realized the git had morning wood.

“Turn the volume down,” grumbled George, moving to wrap his arms around Juliet. “‘M sleeping.”

“Georgie,” Juliet sat up, adjusting her shirt. “It’s time to wake up. Freddie and Ron have seen to that.”

“Blimey,” George blinked sleepily, protesting as Juliet took her blanket off of him, climbing out of the bed. “What’ja do that for?”

“Sorry to interrupt the love fest,” Fred grinned at Juliet, glancing over to George. “But mums going to be right pissed if you both aren’t ready within the next twenty minutes.”

“Better get to it then.” Juliet brushed past the two boys, leaving them to go get ready.

As she left the room, she could hear George berating Fred and Ron, who kept teasing him over Juliet having been in his bed. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. What was the big deal? They were best friends, and had been for years. They did this all the time.

Although, he never usually woke up so excited, her mind reminded her.

“You’re being ridiculous.” she quietly reprimanded herself, walking into her room.

Ginny was the only one in there, quickly shoving her items into her trunk. She gave Juliet a grin as she walked in, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ll want to hop in the shower now if you plan on it,” she slammed her trunk shut, turning back to face her. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“With George,” Juliet responded casually, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up as she said where she had been. What was wrong with her this morning? “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Aw,” Ginny pouted, a hand on her hip. “My bed’s always open if you ever get lonely.”

“Oh, shut it,” Juliet took a pair of jeans and a sweater, after placing her blanket in her trunk. “More of that, and I’ll tell Dean Thomas you’re switching sides.”

Ginny tossed a pillow at her, which she carefully ducked. She slipped out of the room, laughing as she did. Ginny was shouting something after her, but she ignored it and quickly made her way to the bathroom. She showered fast, and by the time she was done she could hear Molly yelling at none other than the twins.

“What’s gotten into her?” Juliet questioned Hermione and Harry, who were standing outside the bathroom conversing.

Hermione threw her a look, her arms crossed. “Fred and George nearly took out Ginny.”

“Is she alright?” she asked, running her fingers through her damp hair.

Hermione nodded, and Molly yelled up the stairs.

“WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!”

Hermione jumped like she had been scalded, running down the stairs, while Juliet and Harry each departed to their rooms to grab their things. The portrait of her grandmother was now screaming at them, joining in on the headache inducing ruckus.

Juliet grabbed hold of her trunk, dragging it behind her. She made it to the doorway before an anxious squawking came from behind her, and she cursed as she realized she very nearly forgot her new owl.

“Need a little help, love?” George appeared at the top of the stairs, already heading towards her and brandishing his wand.

“If you could be so kind,” Juliet smiled gratefully, letting him levitate her trunk while she took the cage with her owl. “I still haven’t named her yet.”

“If only it were a boy,” George grinned at her as they were walking down the stairs, Harry ahead of them. “You could have named it after me.”

“Right, that would have been my first choice,” Juliet teased, a small smile on her lips. “Georgie junior.”

“Has a lovely ring to it.” responded George, a smile in his voice.

At the bottom of the stairs, Harry was standing next to Mrs. Weasley, who was berating a large black dog who stood next to Harry, it’s tongue sticking out as he looked up at the Gryffindor. Juliet felt her stomach drop as she realized her father was going to be accompanying Harry to the Hogwarts Express, rather than her. George seemed to pick up on her mood, because he reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Juliet,” Remus appeared in the hallway, beaming at her. “George, you too. Fred and Ginny’s waiting for us outside, we’ll be apparating.”

“What about our luggage?” Juliet questioned, feeling slightly better that she would at least have Remus to take her to Hogwarts.

“Mad Eye’s taking care of it,” Remus paused, picking up on her mood rather quickly. “Sirius isn’t even supposed to be leaving Grimmauld Place. He won’t be able to say goodbye to you at the station, it would be too obvious.”

“Right, he’s going to leave for Harry though,” she snapped back, a flash of hurt going through her chest. She wished she hadn’t known that information. “He can’t even be in human form, for a minute, just to say goodbye to his daughter.”

The black dog nudged her leg, staring up at her with apologetic eyes. Juliet rolled her eyes, and stormed out of the room. She didn’t want to get his pity. It was his love she had wanted all those years, and she would be damned if she settled for pity.

Fred and Ginny stood on the front porch, pausing their conversation as she appeared outside.

“Good thing Georgie went up for you,” Fred winked, giving her a side hug as she stepped off the front step of Grimmauld place. “Might’ve had to leave without ya.”

“We would never have done that,” Remus grinned, stepping out next to them. “That would mean I’d be stuck with her the entire summer.”

“God forbid.” Juliet faked disgust, widening her eyes.

The twins and Ginny laughed, and Remus acted offended. He gave her a wink, though, letting her know he got the joke.

“Alright then, Fred and George, take Ginny, go on and apparate there,” Remus motioned them forwards. “Juliet and I will be right behind you.”

The twins nodded, and with a grin and a loud crack, they were gone.

Juliet took Remus’ hand, looking up at him as she did. He smiled down at her, ruffling her hair. “Ready, kiddo?”

She nodded. “I think I’m going to miss you a great deal more this year.”

“I daresay I feel the same,” Remus agreed, clearing his throat. “Christmas isn’t that far away, at least.”

With a loud crack, and an uncomfortable tugging at her navel, they ended up at the back of Kings Cross station, away from any eyes. The twins and Ginny were already there waiting, and with Remus leading the way, they made their way to the front where everyone else from their household was already waiting. Including Moody, who indeed had all of their luggage.

“I suppose you’ll be with Malfoy on the train there,” George said, taking hold of Juliet’s wrist before she went to grab her things. “So I’ll say goodbye now.”

Juliet laughed, looking up at him to see he had an odd look on his face. “It’s not like this is the last time you’ll ever see me, you nutter. I’m sure we’ll be spending Christmas the same way we did summer hols. Plus, I bet I could fit a few Hogsmeade trips together into my busy schedule.”

George grinned, ducking his head down as his cheeks flushed. “Right, I know.”

Juliet shook her head, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. After a moment, he hugged her back tightly, his head on top of hers, her face against his chest. She felt something again, a fluttering in her tummy, and she found herself a tad breathless when they pulled away, her cheeks hot.

“Be safe this year,” Remus took her in for a hug next, patting her head. “Try and help keep Harry out of trouble.”

“Make sure you take care of the twins if they cause any mischief,” Molly added on, giving her a hug and a conspiratorial grin. “Now that you’ve jurisdiction over them.”

Juliet grinned a true smile. “Right on that, Molly.”

Molly moved onto George, ignoring his protests at their exchange. Juliet grinned again, taking her trunk and her owl off the trolley Moody had gotten. The black dog nudged her leg again with his nose, butting its body against her.

“It would have taken you an extra two minutes at most to say goodbye to me in person, y’know,” Juliet said quietly, looking down at the dog who stared back with doleful eyes. “Think as your daughter, you owed me that much.”

“Onto the train now, hurry!” Molly shouted, shooing everyone towards the gleaming express.

Juliet followed after Fred and George, with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry close behind them. Hermione made a comment about Sirius, saying he shouldn’t have come. Juliet agreed with her, and Ron shot back at the both of them.

“Well,” said Fred, clapping his hands together. “Can’t stand around chatting all day, we’ve got business to discuss with Lee. See you later,” and he and George disappeared down the corridor to the right.

Juliet again felt something funny in her tummy as she watched George’s red hair slip into the crowd.

“I better go find Draco,” she announced awkwardly, rolling her eyes when Harry and Ron stiffened. “I’m sure he’s already in the Prefect carriage.”

She bid her goodbyes, giving Ginny and Hermione a hug, a polite smile to Ron and Harry, before heading down towards the Slytherin compartments. She planned on finding Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, to drop her things off, before going to the Prefect meeting.

Of course, they were nothing but predictable. As usual, the compartment at the back of the train was occupied by the Slytherins. They greeted her as she entered, Blaise standing to give her a kiss on the cheek before taking her owl and trunk.

“I see you’ve got yourself a familiar,” Pansy stated rather grouchily, eyeing the Prefect badge pinned to her robes. “As a present for being made Prefect, I assume.”

“Wow, Pans, you did get smarter over break,” Juliet noted, giving the girl a look. “Jealousy isn’t very becoming of you.”

“Since when has Pansy cared about that?” Blaise questioned, sitting back down in his seat.

“You’re late for the meeting y’know,” snapped Pansy, twisting her hair up and pinning it in place, her usual fidget when she was upset. “Draco left five minutes ago.”

“I’d better get going then.” Juliet turned, leaving the Slytherins behind.

The Prefect compartment was near the front of the train, but thankfully she wasn’t the last person to arrive. Hannah Abott and Ernie Macmillian from Hufflepuff appeared at the same time she did, and she entered behind them, spotting Draco’s silver hair right away. He was looking distastefully at Hermione and Ron, the latter of which glared back at him.

Lovely. It was already going smoothly, then.

“What took you so long?” Draco asked scathingly as she sat next to him, glaring at her.

“Hello to you too Draco, hope you had a lovely summer,” Juliet replied sarcastically, crossing her legs. “Not my fault we chose the furthest compartment every year.”

“Mother was disappointed you weren’t at the station before she left,” he muttered under his breath, his glare softening. “You must have nearly missed the train.”

“I’ll make it up to her,” Juliet waved her hand dismissively. “She loves me, I doubt she’s that upset with me.”

“She assumed it wasn’t your fault,” Draco responded carefully, his tone funny enough to make her glance over at him. “I’m sure you had an… interesting summer.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could question him, the meeting began. They went around the room, introducing each other, and everyone received a parchment with their duties written on it.

They would be in charge of the younger students of their house-- leading them to the dormitories, getting them situated in their new environment, giving them directions, and overall being a helpful hand for them. They would also help patrol the train and the corridors at the castle, and help teachers when needed.

Juliet was surprised to find that nearly an hour had passed before the meeting was adjourned. She followed Draco out of the room, noticing rather too late that he had a glint in his eye as he stared at Hermione and Ron.

“Father told me what to expect, he was a Prefect in his year you know,” he told Juliet pompously, arrogance clear in his tone. “He was most displeased to hear that they lowered the standards of who could be a Prefect, however.”

Ron’s ears turned red, and Hermione muttered something to him under her breath, a hand on his arm. Draco smirked, happy to have gotten the effect he wanted. Juliet felt torn, her love for her asshole cousin battling the care she held towards the Weasley’s and Hermione.

Before she could make up a decision in her mind, Ron and Hermione were heading down the hall, presumably towards their compartment, without a backwards glance. Juliet frowned, feeling as though she had done the wrong thing.

“How was your summer, anyways?” Draco asked her as they headed towards their compartment. “Mother kept asking about you. I swear, I nearly hexed myself to death.”

“It was alright,” Juliet replied, shortly, unsure of how much she could say. “I think I’ve had better.”

“What, your father wasn’t as great as you thought he was?” the words came out of Draco’s mouth so casually, yet they hit her like a ton of bricks.

“How do you know?” she hissed under her breath, swatting his arm.

“Hey!” Draco protested, rubbing his arm. “A big black dog arriving with Harry Potter wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous entrance, y’know. Although I was surprised he wasn’t with you. Mother was sure he would have been guarding you, if he showed at all.”

Juliet felt hollow once more. Even Narcissa expected Sirius to love her. “Well, turns out the chosen one is more interesting. More important. Shocker, hm?”

“You can’t be serious,” Draco paused, tugging her arm to stop her. “He cares more about Potter?”

Juliet shrugged, angry that she could feel tears prick her eyes. “S’not a big deal. Fifteen years have gone by just fine without him.”

“Out of everyone, Potter,” snarled Draco, surprisingly Juliet with his intensity. “You’re a thousand times more brilliant than him.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Juliet responded quietly.

“Let’s get to the compartment before the Trolley witch leaves,” Draco said after a moment, pulling her along with him. “I think you could use a butterbeer and perhaps a pumpkin pastry.”

Juliet allowed herself to be tugged along, a smile on her face. Even if her father didn’t care for her, she would always have Draco. The Weasley’s and Remus too, of course, but it was nice to know her blood relatives still cared for her as well. Ignoring Lucius.

Draco made good on his words, getting her an abundance of sweets, refusing to let her pay, to the dismay of Pansy. They settled into their compartments with their friends, discussing their summers and laughing as they ate their snacks.

In that moment, Juliet was happy to be somewhere familiar and safe. Even if Pansy still glared at her from time to time. It was as she said, jealousy was unbecoming of her. It was proven every time her face turned an unflattering shade of maroon each time she caught a glimpse of the Prefect badge sitting proudly on Juliet’s robes.

A grin on her face, Juliet decided, summer aside, this school year was going to be good. It would be worth the near disastrous summer she had endured.

one

taglist: @person1839 @treblebeth @big-galaxy-chaos @spooderham

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Love On-Set (Pt. 05 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

All The Right Signs

“Gaten, get it together! It's fake raining!” Finn yells as Gaten messes up the scene for the fourth time. Everyone just laughs as you brace yourself.

“Five minutes everyone!” James shouts and you follow the kids as they run out of the rain as the water is turned off.

Today, you're glad the scene is outside, with all the main actors. It's always fun, and you need to keep your mind away from what will happen tomorrow. You thought the kissing scene was too far away, but now it's just around the corner. And you didn't do as James said. Every time Dacre showed up to work on that, you'd just sit, watch something and talk. And you always have fun together. The director never asked about the video though, so you just decided to let it go.

But now, it's tomorrow. And you're trying hard not to think about it until it's inevitable.

“Are you cold?” Dacre comes to stand before you, messing up your train of thought.

“A little, yeah.” You answer, removing some hair from your face.

“Well...” He steps closer, his hands rubbing your arms. You immediately feel warmer, but you don't think it's because of the gesture. “If Gaten manages to say his line without bursting into laughter we'll get out of the cold very soon.”

You can't help but blush, staring into his blue eyes. “He is–”

A camera flashing gets your attention, and both you and Dacre look at the source. Millie tries to hide her phone as if the bright light didn't startle you.

“I can't wait for tomorrow.” Natalia comments.

Unfortunately, they will have to be here, because the kissing scene isn't the only one scheduled. You still don't know if it's good or bad. Probably bad.

“Alright, let's get it done.” As James speaks, the water is turned back on and it starts raining again.

“Let's go.” You say in a low voice, accompanying Dacre back to your positions.

It takes another four attempts for Gaten to finally say his line without messing up, and the rest of you are free to finish the take. Afterward, before you can run to your dressing room to shower and change out of the soaking clothes, the guys decide to make some silly pictures with everyone soaking wet. In the middle of the commotion to strike a pose, Dacre finds he's way to stand next to you, an arm either on your shoulders or around your waist. You try not to give it much thought, hoping Millie's phone camera won't get your blushing cheeks.

When it's all done, you take a warm shower before heading to the van and an hour later you're at your hotel room. But the day isn't over yet. The guys are coming here to finally start working on the Battle of Starcourt scenes. But you still have some time before they show up, so you make yourself comfortable on the couch, a blanket around your shoulders as you watch Jaws since you're in the mood for a classic movie.

A knock on the door startles you a little, and you notice you were too immersed in the movie. Dragging the blanket with you, you walk over there after checking your phone. There's still an hour until they come and you didn't order anything. But you unlock it and swing it open, biting your lip when you see Dacre. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He furrows his eyebrows when he looks down at you. “I absolutely love your dress.”

“Really? It's the last fashion in my living room fashion week.” Giggling, you step aside, closing the door shut when Dacre comes in. “You're early. Nobody got here yet.“

“Yeah, I know.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug your shoulders. It's not like you would send him away. “I'm watching Jaws. So we can either watch it or put on something else.” Making your way back to the couch, you watch as he does the same, settling down beside you. “You want the blanket?” You decide to ask, just to be polite.

“Sure.”

That you weren't expecting. It's not cold. Well, not that cold. You just took the blanket to feel more comfortable since you're wearing shorts and a light blouse. “Ok.“ You mumble as you take the blanket from around your shoulders, fixing it on both you and Dacre.

Then you focus on the movie. Or you try to focus the best you can. Why is Dacre here? Millie's voice comes back to your head, her lastest advise making you bounce your leg nervously. She told you Dacre is giving all the signs he's into you. And you should do the same, or else he'll get the idea you're not interested and step back. Natalia assured it'll happen because Dacre is a gentleman, always have been, and he won't keep pushing you into something you don't want.

Taking a deep breath, you think about your options. You feel how Dacre's arm is touching yours, and you have an idea. Feeling the butterflies in your stomach going insane, you lean closer to Dacre. “Can I?” You ask, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Sure.” He answers, and after a few seconds of the most uncomfortable silence you've even been through, Dacre moves, putting his arm around your shoulders, what makes you snuggle closer to him, your head resting partly on his chest and neck. Your whole body is frozen for a moment, wondering what this is. Then he moves again, his arm sliding down to embrace your waist, and you decide to just end the small distance that was between your bodies, completely leaning on him. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes tightly shut as your cheeks start burning. “The shark is attacking.” Trying to ease the tension, you gesture at the TV.

“It is,” Dacre mumbles, and you feel his chest vibrating as he speaks.

As the minutes pass by, you feel more comfortable. And it feels good to finally allow yourself to do this. It's something so simple, so silly, but still, it feels right. You've been dying to do this and you didn't even know.

Unfortunately, the hour passes by, the knocks and the chattering announcing that your time alone with Dacre is over. Sighing, you leave the blanket behind and go open the door, hoping nobody will notice that Dacre was here already.

•

“Ok, ok. Positions...” Joe says after the coffee table and couch were pushed aside, leaving a free space in the middle of the room. You stand beside Millie, script in hand as you wait to find out what scene they'll start with. “You there. You can be... There.”

“Why do I have the feeling we interrupted something,” Natalia whispers as she walks by, tilting her head at Dacre, who's discussing something in the script with Sadie.

“Dacre just came to...” To do what? Did he even come to do something specifically? “He came a little earlier.”

“I didn't know you could get this red,” Millie exclaims, staring at you. “Oh, my God, I'm so happy I'll get to see the kissing scene.”

The kissing scene. Nobody in the freaking universe will let you forget it. As if you needed them to remind you that Dacre's lips will be on yours by tomorrow night. “I want to get it done on one take, so don't screw it.”

“You should ask us to ruin it as much as we can so you'll get to kiss him more times.” Natalia sing songs and you Millie laughs, nodding.

“It won't be Dacre and I. It'll be Billy and Amy. It's a scene, it's our job.” You don't know what gets to you, the words just roll out. And they're all true. It won't be a real kiss. It's not like you don't want to do it. You want to kiss Dacre, and this is making you nervous, but it just won't be real. “Let's just focus here, ok?”

The next hours are tiring. They were right to do this because the Battle of Starcourt will be chaos, and it'll be a lot better if you kinda know the dynamics before having to actually shoot it. But you're distracted, forgetting your lines so many times you have to just keep the scrip in hand and read it. You're thankful for the kids being so crazy because they make you laugh and forget your anxiety for a while.

It's past midnight then they leave, and as you're saying your goodbyes at the door, you notice Dacre falling behind. When he's by the door, the others are already disappearing down the hall.

“Guess I'll see you tomorrow.” You mutter, looking down at your feet. If it wasn't for a meeting James called with the whole cast in the morning, you'd have the whole day to deal with before going to the set. It's better this way though, you think.

“Yeah. I'd be down for another gym date but I have this job that won't let me.”

Giggling, you bite your lip. “You think it'll be about changes in the script?”

“I'm sure it will,” Dacre mumbles, giving a look at the hall. When you follow his gaze, you see three blurs in the shape of heads, vanishing into the corner. “We're being watched.” He lowers his voice as if you were in great danger.

“Hope it's not the Demogorgon. I'd hate to save your ass. Again.” When you look back at him, you find his blue eyes already set on you. It makes you sigh, wondering why your legs won't work, and make you step back, returning to the normal distance you should put between you and someone else. “I'll get some sleep... Rough day tomorrow.”

“I agree.” Another glance at the hall, but you don't have time to check if anyone's there this time. Dacre leans closer and places a kiss on your cheek, as he usually does. Only this time is different. It lingers, for far too long, and at the same time, it ends too soon. And you're sure you felt the corner of his lips on yours. “Good night, (Y/N).”

“Good night.” Whispering, you stand by the door as he makes his way to the elevators, giving one last look back before disappearing in the corner.

• • •

Your hands are shaking a little, and you blame it on the cold wind. But the wind isn't that cold. Is it?

You're already in your position, at Hawkins Community Pool's parking lot, next to this random car and your stylist is finishing with your hair and giving the final touches on your make-up. No lipstick. You can't imagine why.

On your left, you see many pairs of eyes set on you. After this scene, James wants to shot the sequence, when the kids find a Demodog in the pool, so everyone is here. But you can't think about that now, you have to focus. Amy needs to come to life today, and you need to act like a professional. You knew acting in Stranger Things would be huge, and difficult, but you'd never guess it would be this hard.

You take the deepest breath you can when you see Dacre coming your way. Mullets were an atrocity to humankind, you think, but damn, he did make it look good. How is it even possible? He shouldn't be allowed to do that.

“Hey. You–”

“Everyone ready?” James' thunder voice cuts him off, and you have no idea if that's good or bad. No time to figure out. “Clean the set, let's do this. Dacre, (Y/N), are you ready?”

Nodding, you force your mind to remember the lines. You're Amy now... Which sucks because by now, Amy is already in love with Billy. Nothing will help you, you just need to get it done, give the audience the show they want.

“Great. Alright then... Ready and... Action!”

You're not ready for that, but you move anyways.

“I can't believe you took almost an hour to get here, Hargrove!” Amy yells, walking fast to end the small distance between her and Billy. “There's a freaking Demodog in the pool!”

“It's dead. So why the hurry?” Dacre keeps the smug smirk, the one that makes you want to slap Billy. Just a little bit. “Chill.”

“Don't tell me to chill. Can't you miss one single date? Not even when there's an interdimensional monster involved?” You punch Dacre hard on the chest, well not so hard, but he does give a tiny step back. This is Amy's jealously attack, and you make sure to make her look frustrated because despite the emotions overflowing, she knows she shouldn't be doing this.

“Why the hell you always think I'm with some girl?”

“Because that's where you always are.” Jumping to conclusions. That's the way Amy found to keep her heart away from Billy. Didn't work though. “You know what, it doesn't matter. We have a bigger fish to fry.”

When you turn around to leave, Dacre gets his cue, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stop and stumble back. “The damn thing is dead, it can wait.”

“Let go.” Amy pleads, stepping backwards as Billy comes closer. That's the moment where she gives up trying. This thing with Billy has been going on for a while now, and, as in real life, there's just this point where you stop fighting it. “Seriously, I'm tired of this shit so let's just–”

“I know you're jealous.” He mutters, just when your back hits the car. James loves to have you trapped like that. “Just need to figure out why.”

“I've said it once, and I'll say it again.” It's hard to follow the script, it's hard to keep breathing normally. It's so damn hard to keep eye contact with Dacre right now. “I won't be one of your flings so back the hell down.”

It comes out too low, and you wait for James to stop the scene. And you want him too. You can't do this. You can't stop looking at Dacre's lips, you can't control the butterflies in your stomach. This is just a goddman scene, why can't you get it together?

“Who said I want you to be a fling?”

That's it. It's happening. Dacre leans closer, so close that you have no choice but to close your eyes. He's saying something else, but you don't hear it. Your hands find their way to his chest, grabbing his jacket as if to steady yourself, to get a grip of reality. When his lips brush on yours, Amy is gone and you break character, taking a deep breath before pulling him closer, eager to end the small distance and finally–.

A loud noise, an explosion, makes both of you jump. One of the cameras near you come crashing down and if it wasn't for Dacre pulling you away, it would hit you. The whole thing moves like a domino effect, knocking a few more cameras with it. You barely hear James's voice, stepping further back, making sure you're far enough. The rest of the cast abruptly stand up from their chairs, worried.

“Everyone back off!” James shouts.

“Are you ok?” Dacre asks and you simply nod, a hand on your heart.

James dismisses everyone while he and his assistants check what happened. You silently walk beside Dacre until you reach the rest of the crew, looking down and trying not to think about the kiss. Or the almost kiss.

“What the hell happened?” Joe asks, and everyone starts talking at the same time.

There isn't much to talk about. Four of the five cameras are wrecked, and the director is pissed. But still, you're too far away, your mind stuck in the phantom of the kiss you craved for so desperately. Dacre stands by your side, but you can't look at him right now. So you engage in the conversation, ignoring Millie's and Natalia's stares, hoping nobody will notice your blushing cheeks.

An hour later, the big news arrive. Well, they're big news fort he cast, not for James. After analyzing the damage, James will have to suspend the shooting for five days. Which means you'll have five days off. Everyone starts making plans, and the ride back to the hotel is filled with happy chattering about who will go where. But you already know what you'll do. You'll fly home and use these days to rest. And think.

“Hey.” Dacre gets your attention, following out of the van when you reach the hotel. “What are your plans?”

“Uhm... I'm flying home.” Shrugging your shoulders, you keep his pace through the main hall.

“Oh, you live in LA, right?” Giving him a quick glance, you nod. “I'm living there too, I don't know if I told you.”

This lights up a spark in your heart, and suddenly, you're not so excited to stay away anymore. “No, you haven't.”

“We can book our flights together... If that's ok.”

His hesitation gets you by surprise, but then you notice how distant you've been acting since the kiss. Damn, he might be thinking you didn't like it or something. That he made you uncomfortable. That's exactly what you don't want him to think. “It is. When do you wanna leave?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“That's fine by me.” You finally decide to look at him, and you immediately regret avoiding his eyes. Being nervous is... Normal. Maybe. But his eyes give you the reassurance you need. “I'll stop by your room in an hour so we can buy the tickets.”

“I'll be waiting.” His lips break into a smile, and you can't help but bite your lip and smile too.

“I'll be there.” You say as the doors open on his floor. Dacre mutters a goodbye, and right before the door closes again, you see when he winks at you.

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum

#dacre montgomery imagine #imagine dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery fanfiction #dacre montgomery #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine

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purpleyellow · 4 years

Text

Benched

Seventeen 14th member

Hayun’s masterlist

“Home;Run promotions gets cut short for Hayun”

a/n: Feel free to let me know your thoughts as well as send me some requests💙. Ask box is also open to random chats.

Hayun wasn’t even awake yet but she could feel a sharp blinding pain on the lower right side of her abdomen, it took her a few seconds to get a grasp on reality and come to her senses, each moment that passed she groaned a little more and curled up on herself until she finally opened her eyes to see the empty dark room.

If it wasn’t for their recent moving of dorms, the girl could have easily woken up Joshua to tell him she wasn’t feeling quite right. But since she had been lucky enough to have her own room for the first time, there was no one in sight to help her out.

Trying to get herself into a sitting position, she felt the pain intensifying immensely to the point where tears welled up in her eyes, so the girl had no other option but to stay laying down and either scream until the others showed up or call someone to come check on her.

Deciding on the latter since she was far too uncomfortable to make a scene, Hayun reached under her pillow to grab her phone and quickly pressed Seungcheol’s contact number, waiting for the call to ring three times until he picked it up.

“Hello?” Scoups’ sleepy voice broke the silence in the room and the girl doubted he had even checked who was calling him at that hour.

“Can you come here?” Hayun’s own raspy voice was a surprise for both of them, the leader quickly picking up that there was something wrong.

“Hayun?”

“I’m not feeling well, please come” She pleaded as the pain only seemed to grow more and more like there were knives dragging under her skin.

Hearing the call end, Hayun watched as the lights from the hallway turned on almost instantly, Seungcheol’s sleepy figure opening her door a few seconds later making her wince from the brightness.

The sight he was met wasn’t very pretty, besides the disheveled look she had from sleeping, the girl was holding herself in a fetal position and her face was considerably flushed. Placing a hand on her forehead, the leader instantly recognized a pretty high fever sending him into a mild panic mode.

“What’s going on? What are you feeling? How did it start?” He asked randomly trying to understand what the next step he should take, the girl only pouted and took a few deep breaths before whispering to him.

“My belly hurts like a bitch” She said, wincing and the boy crouched down to her height.

“Is it like... period cramps?” He frowned and, despite her state, Hayun rolled her eyes.

“Trust me if cramps were like this my uterus would be long gone,” She said and heard a few steps from the hallway.

“Is everything okay?” A voice suddenly came from the hallway and they both turned to a sleepy Seungkwan leaning on the doorway. “The lights woke me up”

“I think I might be dying” Hayun whispered and he widened his eyes.

“No one is dying. Seungkwan can you please go wake up Jeonghan and Joshua and get them here” Scoups talked before the boy could freak out and then turned to the girl “Does it hurt everywhere?”

“Mainly here” She placed his hand on where it was and when he lightly pressed the spot the girl buried her face in her pillow groaning.

More footsteps were heard and this time Seungkwan came, not only with the two Cheol had called, but also Wonwoo and Hoshi.

“I think we should get her to the hospital” The leader began as soon as the crowd settled in her room. Hayun quickly explained what she was feeling to them as Seungkwan sat near her head, gently patting her hair as a way to give her a little bit of comfort.

“Is this the first time you felt it?” Wonwoo asked worried but before she could agree Jeonghan spoke up.

“No, earlier at the comeback stage she was holding onto her stomach before asking for some pain killers”

“And you didn’t think about telling us,” Scoups exclaimed looking between both of them

“Talking about it, the day prior she took a break in between practices because she wasn’t feeling well” Hoshi mentioned “I thought it was because of exhaustion or something like that”

“I thought so too, both times actually” Hayun groaned trying to sit up, instantly getting assisted by Joshua and Seungkwan.

“Doesn’t matter now, let’s just get her to the hospital. She can barely hold herself up” Scoups said and all of them looked down at their pajamas and then back at him making him sigh “Okay. Me, Shua and Wonwoo are going to quickly change while the rest of you help her into some clothes”

“Just give me an oversized sweater, I don’t care” Hayun mumbled, making Jeonghan jump into assisting her getting her arms through the yellow mustard hoodie she had on earlier.

"I want to go too" Hayun heard Seungkwan whining as she was getting into the fabric which made the girl let out a chuckle before groaning at the pain it caused her.

“Someone needs to stay behind and let the others know what is going on” Hoshi tried to console the pouty boy.

“Yeah, and please call the managers while you're at it. They're going to be pissed that we're taking her to the ER without letting them know but I don’t really care right now” Scoups said walking in and looping Hayun's arm over her shoulder and getting followed by Wonwoo.

Getting up and walking to the car was a slow process considering each step caused the girl to hiss at the sharp intakes in her abdomen region. Laying in the backseat with her head on Joshua's thigh, she tried to focus on anything else other than the movement of the car.

“I honestly thought I was constipated since yesterday,” Hayun said as the silence in the car felt too suffocating to her. “Or like, exhaustion or something.”

“It could be appendicitis” Wonwoo mumbled from the passenger seat “You'll be fine just hang in there”.

“I’ve been a little nauseous too, maybe I’m pregnant,” She said, making the atmosphere less tense as the boys laughed at her exaggeration.

“Shut up” Joshua gently slapped the back of her head before resuming to run his hand on her arm.

As they got to the emergency room, the staff there took her to some examination where the doctor came to the same conclusion as Wonwoo. Diagnosing her with appendicitis, he began talking about the treatment plan.

“We'll perform surgery to remove the appendix as soon as possible to prevent it from bursting, it’s a simple procedure where we’ll-”

“What about the recovery period?” Hayun asked over him. She knew with surgery there was no way she would be able to complete promotions normally but still was worth asking about it.

“If everything goes fine you should be leaving the hospital within some days, though resting is crucial. I wouldn't recommend going back to normal activities in less than a couple of weeks. This is all estimation of course” He told her politely before returning to explain the procedure.

Looking around, the girl noticed the boys and the two managers who had joined them were listening attentively to the doctor. Sungcheol squeezing her shoulder ever so softly whenever he felt she was getting tense.

“If you don't have any more questions we should be taking her to the surgical floor” He ended his speech and the boys made a circle around the stretcher she had been placed on.

“Well be here once you're done,” Cheol told her and one of the managers came near them.

“Actually, it's best if you go rest and then back to the company,” He said calmly “You need to rearrange the choreography and get ready for the rest of the music shows. Don't worry I'll stay here with her and once your schedule is done you can come too”

“Can we postpone it for today at least?” The leader tried to argue but the two managers shook their heads “We’re one member down, I don’t think anyone is going to concentrate enough before we’re sure everything is fine”

“We understand but you’ll have to try. The company already invested a lot on the stages and outfits, the least-”

“One of my members is going on surgery right now, I’m sorry but I don’t give a crap about how much the company spent” He scoffed making the girl roll her eyes.

“Cheol is fine” Hayun sighed nodding to him “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just go along, once I’m out I’ll call you guys”

“Are you sure?” Joshua squeezed her hand and she nodded smiling at him.

“Yes, but let’s get going. I need to get this appendix from hell out of me right now” She said prompting the three of them to give her a hug before some nurses came to take her to the operating room.

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff has a lot to think about and what better place to do it than at the bar with his best buddy, Stretch?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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The night wasn’t as young as it used to be, but to be fair, neither was Jeff. After a few hours of sitting on a bar stool, his tailbone would be more than willing to testify on that.

He leaned back against the bar in an effort to take some of his weight off of it, grimacing as he watched the dance floor. Colored lights flashed to the thrumming bass beat over the gyrating dancers and out in the thrashing sea of sweaty human bodies there was a head that was above almost all of them. Stretch towered over most humans and never was it more obvious than right then. The lights reflected off his smooth skull, a living disco ball, and around him other humans were laughing and cheering as they danced.

Edge would be having a conniption right about now and Jeff was a little bemused to find his anxiety having an internal dance competition of its own. Currently it was at ‘chachacha’ levels, watching all those Humans grinding up on Stretch. He didn’t want to think anyone here would hurt Stretch, intentionally or otherwise, but the threat of low HP always loomed. His trust in humanity took a pretty big dip a few months ago outside a Chinese restaurant and he had the scars to prove it.

Jeff took another sip of his drink. His straw crackled against the bottom of the glass as he finished it off, leaving only lonely ice cubes behind and he set it back on the bar as he settled back in for a little spare contemplation.

If he were honest, wasn’t a huge fan of the club scene even before he started dating Antwan. Not that he didn’t like going out but his problems with it were twofold. One, bars sucked to go to alone and back then he didn’t have a lot of real estate in the friend territory and two, it cost money. His disposable cash in those days was a lot like a pink unicorn: nonexistent.

Being friends with Stretch took care of both of those problems but a third loomed up to take their place like an unwanted acquaintance. Put bluntly, Jeff could not dance and until Kevin Bacon showed up to give him a few lessons, he probably wasn’t gonna learn how.

Not that he really minded that much. Guarding their drinks and listening to the music wasn’t a bad way to spend the night.

Besides, Stretch didn’t seem to care if he wasn’t up to evacuating the dance floor. He mostly let Jeff sit at the bar where he tried to look like someone with deep and mysterious thoughts to process instead of the person he actually was, far more likely to accidently spill his drink into his lap than anything else. On either side of him were other people doing the same, a row of wallflowers watching the dance floor with wistful envy.

Mostly Stretch left him to it but sometimes he’d bounce his way back and haul Jeff out for a song, any song, fast, slow, techno-bop, dubstep, didn’t matter to Stretch, he was an equal opportunist when it came to friendly torment and if Jeff felt a lot like Frankenstein’s monster tromping around next to Stretch’s lithe booty shake, eh, that was okay. Sacrificing a little dignity for a friend’s fun times was part of the package.

As far as he knew, Stretch didn’t go out to the clubs often either, but if there was one thing Jeff had learned when it came to Stretch, it was there were no half-measures. If he was in, he was all in, and that included drinking, dancing, and on the weekends, the occasional explosion caused by a thermal reaction. Truly a wide variety of hobbies came into play when hanging out with Stretch and going out to the bars pretty much guaranteed something interesting would happen.

Like the time they met those guys who’d come into town for the last beat poetry night. One of them mentioned liking Stretch’s Intergalactic Beastie Boys t-shirt so Stretch convinced them all to swap shirts and then swapped them around again, until they were all three shirts removed from the one they’d arrived in. Pants were a harder sell and if Stretch were ever hard up for money, he might take up selling ice to penguins because in no time they were all out on the sidewalk, firmly dismissed from Grillby’s over their rampant laughter drowning out the poet’s rambling about the burden of solitude. The Waffle House they ended up at had a less stringent dress code and all of them crammed into a booth to eat greasy breakfast food at two am in their boxer shorts. At least those were all their own and his plain cotton boxer briefs were no match against Stretch’s ‘wanna tickle my pickle’ pair.

He was pretty sure all those guys still followed Stretch on twitter.

He wondered what Edge had thought of Stretch wandering home in an entirely new wardrobe, minus pants. There was no way he didn’t notice, Edge was very intent on fashion, even Stretch’s version of it. Knowing him, he probably made Stretch strip right in the living room and soaked both him and his clothes in Lysol before burning his boxer shorts. The old-new t-shirt Jeff ended up with was hanging in closet even though it was two sizes too big for him. Antwan stole it sometimes for lounging around the house purposes and seeing him in it was always a cheap thrill.

Huh, now that he was thinking about it, he’d gone to the bar more this past year than in his whole life before. Not just with Stretch either, Blue and Papyrus had brought him along for karaoke a few times and that was an experience right there. Their singing was like a vocal interpretation of his dancing and just as painful for witnesses.

He’d even had a drink a couple of times with Red. Well, he’d been a tag along with Antwan but still. Red was still vaguely terrifying, but Jeff had gotten the occasional glimpse under his onion layers. He knew a little of what Edge and Red went through before they came here. His knowledge pretty much barely skimmed the surface, they’d both been soldiers and they might’ve gotten out alive, but not entirely unscathed. Knowing Red’s HP was similar to Stretch’s and he’d still survived? Perspective was a hell of a thing and it paid to look at Red from a slant.

Speaking of perspective, he was definitely liking the music. They were a local band and this place was close to the college, a good spot to hopefully get noticed and work their way up. The bar itself had probably been here for fifty years, the bartop pitted with scratches and scars from college students of yore, the stools definitely up for reupholstering.

It was really no surprise to find out that Stretch knew the current owner. He knew loads of people, wriggled his way into their lives a lot like he’d wriggled into Jeff’s. Only difference was, he didn’t usually let the other person wriggle back and yeah, okay, that metaphor was going in weird places, but the meaning stood. Stretch was good with shortcuts and he knew a lot of people, but he wasn’t necessarily friends with a lot. Jeff was pretty happy to be on the short list.

Knowing people came in handy, too, and bringing Stretch along always came with added perks. Catty only asked him to listen to the bands on the list to get a feel for their sound, but he’d be able to bring her a better report than that since they were going to go meet the band after their set was done. It would give him a chance feel them out, see if they were even interested in participating in the Midnight Monster Jamboree, as Catty had slyly dubbed it. After everything went down in California, they needed some serious good will.

The Monster community had been found not at fault for what happened right away, but Antwan told him court cases would be dragging on for a while yet. When Humans died, other Humans wanted someone to pay, and Monsters were easy scapegoats for unreasonable anger. His team was working their butts off on it, Antwan coming home at night so very tired, mostly falling into Jeff’s arms to sleep and yet still so grimly determined. Jeff couldn’t do much about all that, but he could try his damnedest to get their big public relations event off the ground.

The idea was to have a huge event for Humans and Monsters together and for it to be held in New New Home. Asgore thought that some of the problems with Humans might be a result of them thinking Monsters had something to hide, so what better way to show them who Monsters really were than a chance to see into their supposedly secret lives.

Jeff was on the lowest rung for planning and even from his view, it looked like a nightmare. Security details made up of both Human and Monsters, background checks, food, entertainment. Access was going to be extremely limited and the guest list was daunting; there were going to be some big names in politics and entertainment. That circled back to his job, getting some local bands together for the opening shows. Partly good public relations, but also an earnest desire to help out a few struggling locals with the kind of exposure most groups could only dream about. That was so like Monsters, trying to help others in the midst of helping themselves, but it sure was a lot of damn pegs getting shoved into so many slots.

He didn’t even want to know what Edge’s current schedule looked like.

There was a soft thud behind him and Jeff turned to see the bartender was bringing him another drink. The guy was probably somewhere around his age, unless you were gauging it by his world-weary expression, which probably put him at about right around three hundred.

He must’ve known Stretch, too. When they saw each other, he youthened to a spry two hundred and seventy after a complicated series of fist bumps. As an added bonus, he’d been keeping their drinks topped up and as someone who usually couldn’t even get a bartender to see him much less pour him a drink, Jeff sure did appreciate the VIP service.

He started reaching for his drink, but a sudden tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned around. A guy he didn’t recognize was standing there, not too bad on the eyes and weirdly nervous, enough that Jeff thought he might actually be trying to pick him up before he noticed the guy was holding something out.

“Did you drop this?” the guy said, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. It was a wallet and Jeff automatically checked his back pocket even as his eyes told him it wasn’t his.

He shook his head and the guy nodded, but instead of asking anyone else or handing it to the bartender, he wandered off towards the entrance.

Okay, that was odd. Jeff shrugged mentally, lots of weird people at the bar, maybe he was going to give it to the guy at the door in case whoever lost it noticed when they left.

He forgot about it as Stretch came back from the dance floor, sweat gleaming on his skull and face. That always gave Jeff a little pause, what exact purpose did sweating serve for a skeleton? Maybe he’d ask sometime when he was less busy with work. If Stretch didn’t know the answer to something, the journey to find out tended to be entertaining, and possibly less explosive this time around, although he wouldn’t put the chances at zero.

Stretch grinned at him, still panting, and picked up his own drink, gulping down half of it in one swallow. Jeff couldn’t remember was it was. Stretch tended to order more for the name than the taste, so it was probably something like a slippery nipple or a total screaming orgasm. Whatever it was, a skewer of fruit was floating in it and Stretch fished it out, pulling the cherry off the end with his teeth.

“so what do you think of the band?” Stretch asked, perfectly audible even over the loud music. There was another point of interest; when your voice was produced by magic, it didn’t always obey the rules of sound. “gonna give catty the thumbs up?

“I like it,” Jeff shrugged. He could barely hear his own voice, trusting that magical hearing worked the same way as speaking, “but I’m not the greatest judge of music. That’s why I bring you along.”

Stretch chuckled and propped his elbows on the bar, slouching back. It put him almost at head level with Jeff and the shirt he’d almost certainly borrowed from Edge pulled tight across his ribcage. “think i’m a better simon cowell than you?”

“No, you’re more Paula Abdul, and anyway, two heads are better than one.” Jeff played with the straw in his own drink. “Jokes aside, this is important, I don’t want to mess it up.”

“you’re not gonna mess it up.” Stretch scoffed. He bit a chunk of pineapple in half before polishing off the rest of his drink. “how even? you’re doing double-duty as it is. henry said once they’re finished, we can meet them backstage. i’ll have a chat with them, we’ll see if they’re assholes, and good to go! besides, it’s not like security isn’t gonna give ‘em a good, hard rundown, anyway.”

It was the truth and he knew it, but there was always that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind, that somehow he’d find a way to mess it up, and that would be it. This was so important to the Monster community and his chance to finally payback some of what’d they’d given him. He could do this, Jeff told himself, and he’d do it right.

The band started a new set, something with a low, growling bassline and Jeff turned back to watch, only to freeze as Stretch suddenly spoke again, the single word clear as a bell in church.

“jeff.”

The name caught his attention as much as the tone, Stretch never called him Jeff, it was always Andy or kiddo or whatever nickname was currently floating his proverbial boat. The last time he’d called Jeff by his actual name, he’d been lying in a parking lot in a pool of his own blood. The taste of hot metal was strong on the back of his tongue as he turned back to Stretch, his heart pounding, and some cringing part of him expected to see that friendly face instead as the one that appeared sometimes in his worst dreams, a deathmask with one socket dark and blank, the other strobing orange with grim intensity.

But Stretch only looked like his normal self and when he spoke again, each word was calmly measured and deliberate. "i don't feel right. i think we should go."

Somehow, that was even more alarming, and his worry quickly overshadowed any lingering bad memories that were vying for his attention.

“Sure,” Jeff said, “right now.” He hopped down from the stool. Stretch pushed off from the bar and staggered, leaning hard against Jeff and thank fuck he was light because his height already made it awkward to hold him up. He started to call for the bartender, maybe there was someplace they could sit down in the back while he called Edge, when another guy came up next to them, helping hold Stretch up. Then another on Jeff’s side and he started to protest that he didn’t need help when a voice growled close to his ear.

"Don’t look at me. Keep your mouth shut or I'll kill you."

It was followed by the sensation of something hard butting into his ribs and this could not be happening. This did not happen in the real world, this wasn’t a Jason Bourne movie, there could not be a gun pressed to his side right now. Even his own fear was sitting on the sidelines, pushed out by disbelief as Jeff stumblingly followed the guiding arm around him leading towards the door. The crowd reluctantly parted and next to them, Stretch was shuffling along, his eye lights blown wide and fuzzily diffused. He started sagging, his skull lolling back on his shoulders and around them were murmurs, people starting to notice.

“Hey, what’s going on? Stretch?” From the direction of the bar, and Jeff glanced back wildly to catch the bartender watching with dawning concern. There was no time to say a word, to even mouth a desperate ‘help’ before he was forcibly swung back around and pushed through the door.

The cold night air was like a slap in the face, sobering, and fear was starting to sink its teeth in past his disbelief. The guy next to him was keeping back out of his line of sight and he could only barely see the one on Stretch, dark hair, taller, burly, did he have a gun, too, who were they and why—?

By the entrance, the bouncer looked up in surprise as they walked past. “Hey, Stretch, you guys, okay?”

“Fuck off!” The man holding onto Jeff barked and the gun swung towards the bouncer. There was a beat of incongruous silence broken by the strains of music coming from inside the bar, then a girl screamed, the waiting crowd scattering.

“Fuck! Get them in the car!” A different voice, loud and panicky and he caught another glimpse of dark hair before he was shoved forward again. He stumbled, almost falling to his knees among the cigarette butts that scattered the asphalt, and the memory of another parking lot was strong, the swell of panic gagging him.

He didn’t resist as he was pushed towards a van, the side door sliding open and then he was inside it, collapsing across the backseat.

Weight dropped directly on top of him with a clatter of bones and Jeff grunted, trying to push Stretch off of him enough to sit up. Only to lose his balance again as the van squealed away from the curb, the tangle of his own limbs catching with Stretch’s limp ones.

A new voice barked from the direction of the driver’s seat. “Get their phones, hurry up!”

Rough hands grabbing at them, and Jeff instinctively tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. His phone was yanked from his pocket and Stretch didn’t say a word, only breathing with a slurry snore into Jeff’s ear. There was the sound of a power window going down, of tires squealing against asphalt and the inside of the van was too dark to see.

Not that it mattered. Rough hands hauled Jeff upright and the person they belonged to was wearing a ski mask like a fucking heist cliché. Jeff choked back a hysterical laugh, but even panicked amusement took a backseat when ski mask demanded, “Okay, both of you need to strip.”

Jeff only stared in mute horror, barely comprehending as a duffle bag was suddenly thrust at them.

“Change into these,” Ski Mask ordered, “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

There was a pun there, Stretch would have been able to think of one. Would have if he wasn’t lying slumped across the seat. His sockets were still open, but his eye lights were dim and unseeing, the lights were on and no one was home, not quite a pun but it’d have to do.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Jeff said. He tried not to look at the guy with the gun as he carefully opened the duffle and pulled out the clothes inside, choosing his words with the same care. “He’s…he’s fragile, just a punch and you could kill him. Please.”

“Then don’t make us do anything that’ll get him hurt.”

Good advice from a shitty source.

Jeff scrambled into the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants in the bag, then helped the other…what, kidnapper? Asshole was the strongest contender in his head and that was what Jeff went with. Helped Asshole #2 get Stretch change into his. The guy was brusque but not ungentle, at least, and the second they were finished, the van pulled up next to a dumpster. A fourth asshole sitting in the front seat hopped out, tossing all their clothes plus the bag into it. Four against two, not including guns, not the best odds. Like Jeff would have been much help even if it were mano a mano. He sure as hell wasn’t a fighter past panicked desperation and he wasn’t about to hinge Stretch’s life on that.

“Now, sit back and relax,” said Asshole With A Gun. “You two behave and no one gets hurt, okay?”

Jeff knew a lie when he heard one. He nodded anyway and huddled into the seat, one arm looped around Stretch to offer what feeble protection he could. His skull resting in Jeff’s lap was a familiar weight from movie nights and Netflix marathons. His unconsciousness was not, but he was alive, they both were. It was a place to start.

Jeff kept silent, petting the smooth curve of Stretch’s skull as he watched the streetlights flash by and waited to see what came next.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #original undertale characters #by any other name

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