#so i turn around and…ITS MY BEST FRIEND FROM THE FIFTH GRADE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuckmymunson · 2 years

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🌻 “forfeit, loser, competition” / remus lupin / nsfw

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

♡ CW: Professor!Remus x Student!Reader relationship, SMUT 18+, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, (kind of) dirty talk. Reader is of age and consents to this relationship! Not proofread! | Word count: 2.9k | Minors DNI! ♡ a/n: 200 flowers request! Thank you <3. Ugh, have I mention how much I love this man?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Quills up, everyone.” Professor Lupin’s voice echoed in the spacious classroom, earning himself a small groan from the group of seventh-years. “Don’t worry, now your exams are my problem.”

Standing up, picking your bag and following your friends you felt a light tap on your shoulder, turning around you lifted your eyes looking at Professor Lupin. “Yes? Professor.” You asked with a gentle smile.

“You dropped this, darling.” Hiding your amusing smile at the pet name, you remained professional when he handed you the golden quill you particularly used for this test. “A very nice quill this is.”

“Thank you, Professor.” The title rolled down your lips in a bewitching manner, making him smile. “It’s my lucky quill, I use it on every test.” Tucking it in the safety of your bag, you felt amused at how dangerously close you were to being caught.

“Well, I’m sure you will ace this test.” He smiled at you, the signature smile that made every student melt in their spot, you included.

“I learned from the best.” You giggled softly and followed your friends to the next class.

“What the hell was that?” One of your friends inquired, nudging you with her shoulder.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Playing innocently was one of your favourite activities, it only added more character to your overall smart girl look, always the one with the highest grades and a rising star.

Truth be told, even if you were quite smart, even smarter than the average, you had a little tiny secret, one that could ruin your entire reputation and perhaps get you expelled from Hogwarts: A golden quill capable of writing all the right answers, words and mark the right dots on any test, essay or parchment. It was absolutely prohibited, and even with something so powerful in your lovely hands, you used it less than two times in a full school period.

Honourably granted by the one and only Weasley twins, who happen to owe you a big one after you lied for them, saving them from being expelled from school, a long story, a very funny too. At first glance, it looked like a simple golden quill, perhaps a little smaller than average sure, but stereotypical girls liked smaller things because they were so cute! Fred and George took an insanely amount of time and effort into conjuring new spells, jinxes and maybe even a curse, if anyone tried to reveal its secrets, the quill will automatically explode and the ink would be so dense and heavy, it was hopeless to even try and wash it, not even with the strongest whitening spell. They encouraged you to try it in your fifth year when you complained for a week straight about how you were definitely going to fail Snape’s test.

“M’lady… for your grades you shall not cry anymore!” Fred spoke exaggeratedly, you scoffed annoyed while the twins sandwiched you between their arms.

“We have an invention that will shake you from your head to your wand’s core!” George joined his brother, the registered Weasley smile plastered on their freckled faces.

“Just tell me what the new toy is, I have to study for potions.” Rolling your eyes, you giggled at their antics, having a soft spot for their sense of humour.

“Toy?” They exclaimed in unison, offended.

“Whatever.” With another eye roll, they laughed and continued with their presentation, as teasing as these two could be.

“We present to you: The Snap n’ gold!” And right there, in the desk of the empty classroom they dragged you into, a golden quill appeared, smaller than yours, with a hint of platinum sparkles in the golden patterns. “Go on, try it.” Next to the quill, a white parchment appeared as well. “What’s 2316 x 6019?” They continued speaking as one, hinting you how long they planned this.

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?”

“Let the Snap n’ gold work its wonders, my dear.” Fred’s smile widened.

“And only the right answers shall appear.” George closed the rhyme with his best impression of a Victorian pose.

Since when this was an arithmancy pop quiz?

Either way, you watched amazed at how the quill moved your hand in such a natural way it seemed you were the one writing. “It says 13,940, 004”

“Correct!” The twins exclaimed, cheering you and of course, themselves.

That's how you crushed your potions test, and even Professor Snape was a bit surprised by your sudden improvement. He wasn’t easy to fool, but you did, and it felt so good. With great power, comes great responsibility, so you promised yourself and your intelligence, to only use the infamous Snap n’ gold in cases of emergency, an emergency being a test you knew you had no chance of even reaching a Poor grade. So, while you tempted your golden luck by accidentally leaving the quill on your desk after a test done by none other than Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; You were so confident by always getting away with it, that this time, you even let yourself tease the possibility of being caught, enjoying the danger.

A few days later, relaxing at the castle grounds, being one of the many carefree students who didn’t have to worry about your grade, a sudden tap on your shoulder made you jolt on the stone bench. Turning around, your eyes met a set of amber eyes that belonged to the only man capable to decipher the lies within your worst subjects.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend.” Professor Lupin could interrupt you in your sleep and you wouldn’t even be bothered, but this time, the look in his eyes could only mean one thing. “But I’m afraid we need to discuss something in my office.”

You were in deep, deep trouble.

The walk to his classroom and therefore to his private office was the longest and most torturous walk you had ever experienced in your seven years of school. Heart pounding wildly inside your chest, hands sweaty, feeling about to throw up the elves' spaghetti you victoriously devoured that afternoon. Taking a seat in front of his desk, you gulped when you saw a familiar parchment on top of his desk, your test.

“I’ll be straightforward, I don’t want to take more of your time than necessary.” Professor Remus cleared his throat and handed you his kindest smile, which didn’t soothe your nerves at all. “Your test was the highest of your group, perhaps from your whole generation, darling.”

Oh.

“Professor McGonagall is pleased, as you can imagine, she cherishes you quite fondly. She asked me to offer you to compete in a national DADA debate club, of course, with your learning you would be a great factor in the team, you seem to have a vast knowledge of dark creatures.” He did in fact notice how washed out your expression was as if he was speaking another language. “So, what do you say? Feel free to take your time.”

“I—” The words were struggling, a lot. “I—I’m honoured, Professor. Is j—just that… um.I”

Come on, come on! Think about something, quick!. You screamed at yourself, desperate.

“I’m not very good at competitions, S—Sir. I would really like to participate, but if I’m being honest, I’m not that skilled in the subject and—.”

“That’s nonsense! Darling.” Lupin tapped your test, still smiling. “You wrote things I am yet to teach you! To me, that means you’re gifted.”

The debate inside your head was between good and bad, you could A): Tell him the truth, beg for forgiveness, accept 100 detentions with Hagrid at the Forbidden forest just to not be expelled, or B): Keep the act, play it cool, accept his offer and fail at trying to help on a topic you had no clue of.

“Is everything alright?” Professor Lupin looked at you, rather worried. “If you need to take your space and time to think about it, is fine. As long as you are truthful and honest with your decision.”

He knew. The bastard knew. And he was playing with you.

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath, completely and utterly caged, cornered, trapped.

“What was that?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow, expectant.

“Icheatedonthetest” You muttered as quickly as you could, grinding your teeth in embarrassment.

“Pardon?”

“I. Cheated. On. The. Test.” Lowering your gaze, you sighed, feeling ashamed of yourself.

“See, that wasn’t that hard.” Lupin laughed. Something that replaced your embarrassment with confusion. “You were very smart, almost fooled me. But the second you mentioned how you used it on every test, well, let’s say it caught my attention. I noticed it was slightly smaller than average, and the second I touched it, I knew.” How couldn’t he? The man who, unbeknownst to you, made a similar spell just for a map that could trace every single soul in the castle and its surroundings.

“I’m sorry, if you’re going to accuse me with Professor McGonagall then I deserve it.” The tears appeared fast, making him frown.

“I’m not going to, darling.” From his desk, he handed you some tissues. “I know is against the rules, but it is such a clever and unique spell, you should be recognized for the effort and dedication, even if it was for the wrong reasons.” Biting your lips, you swore not to throw Fred and George under the bus, they already had a list so long that it could fill the entire great hall, and you didn’t want to contribute to that list. “At least not me, personally. You’re going to McGonagall's office, explain to her you cheated on the test, she would instantly disqualify you from the list and, you will be forfeited and banned from every other competition there is in what’s left of your school year, you will not mention the quill, of course, just say something banal, perhaps some notes you stuck on your desk, a common muggle thing. I’m sure she will give detention, and perhaps a few house points will be deducted, but—”

“Is either that or being expelled.” You finished his sentence, earning a nod on his part.

“Clever girl.” He smiled, again, this time it felt genuine.

Why did he have to look so handsome when he smiled?

It was now or never. It was a foul move, for sure. But perhaps it was your only choice.

“Professor.” You gained all of the courage you had, battering your eyelashes at him. “Is there another way I could make my punishment less… severe?”

As if you weren't dying to try it.

His smirk completely changed into a quizzical look, weighing your words, your voice, and your actions. “What are you suggesting, dear, is there something in your mind?”

Standing up, ignoring the way your legs trembled in nervousness (and anticipation), you stood next to him, shivering at how he turned his chair to face you, manspreading and looking directly into your eyes, an unspoken question lingering in the thick air. Under his penetrative gaze, you kneeled in front of him, resting the palm of your hands on his knees. “Are you sure of this?” He asks, placing a hand on your cheek, thumb caressing the warm skin. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” The confident look in your eyes made him smile once again, but that particular smile— had you throbbing.

“Go on, then.”

Your hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it and undoing the buttons and zipper of his trousers, Professor Lupin helped you by lifting his hips from the chair so you could slip them off to his thighs, and you felt excited at the growing bulge in between his legs. You would be lying if you didn’t dream about this often, often than intended. But having the real thing right in front of you, was something else.

And it sure was something else. He was bigger than you could even imagine, slightly curved and your eyes travelled along the veins of his now hard cock, he enjoyed you staring, even feeling a bit flattered by it. “I thought you wanted to make your punishment less severe, darling.” The pet name rolled down his lips in a way that only fueled your lust. You wanted him and you wanted him now. Tracing that large vein with your tongue, your stomach flipped at the groan that escaped his lips. Wasting no time, you eased him into your mouth, slowly at first, trying and succeeding at making him feel good, taking your sweet time to adjust at his length and girth, and Remus as the gentleman he was, waited until you were sliding inch after inch inside your pretty mouth.

His hand was pressed over your head, encouraging you to keep going, to take him deeper, but never pushing you all the way in. He fought against the moans that threatened the silence of his office, the door was unlocked but that made the whole thing even better. His hips rolled upwards, eager to feel more of your warm tongue all around him. You hummed in pleasure, feeling your own arousal pooling between your legs, wondering if it would feel as good as he did on your mouth. You were almost this close to deepthroating him, taking it as a personal challenge, when he pushed you away gently by cupping your face.

“Get on the desk, and spread your legs.” His voice allowed no disobedience, and Godric did it made you a little bit wetter. Following his command in an instant, you thanked the Gods for wearing a skirt that day, it was your favourite one, not long enough to be a prude but not short enough to break any uniform dressing code, and when his large hands slid the fabric, exposing your drowned underwear, you were so happy to be wearing a skirt. “Hmm.” He approved your squirming form, pressing his finger against your clothed mound, making you jolt. “Perhaps we can negotiate your punishment after all.”

Once your damped underwear was hanging loosely over your ankle, Professor Lupin traced a finger across your fold, gathering the slick and spreading it across your cunt, quickly finding your clit and circling it softly, steady, knowing exactly how to make you gasp and twitch. His fingers compared to yours were like comparing… fuck, you couldn’t think about a proper comparison, being too spellbound by the stretching feeling of two fingers scissoring your tight cunt, preparing you for him.

“Can’t believe my golden student cheated on a test.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, another curl, another moan. “I thought you were so smart, sweetheart, perhaps you’re nothing more than a loser.” Oh, the words, did they make you clench around his fingers. “Hmmm, that’s it, good girl. I’m sure you had this all planned, waiting for the perfect moment to offer me that slutty mouth of yours.”

“P—Please, Professor.” You gasped when a third finger intimidated your entrance, it burned so deliciously.

“Tell me, bunny.” He cooed, making your head feel dizzy, clouded in pleasure. “What do you want?” Not removing his fingers, he pumped himself a few times, ready to line up with your leaking entrance.

“You, inside m—me, please.” The loss of contact and stimulation made you whine, though the instant you felt the swollen tip of his cock teasing your folds, you spread your legs a little bit more and whined a little bit louder. “Please, l—let me cum over your cock, Remus.”

You were definitely something else as well, and he couldn’t deny how much (despite the guilt and self hatre) he longed for this. The risk of getting caught doing something so prohibited was the experience of a lifetime. Just like it was to be welcomed by the pulsating feeling of your lovely thigh cunt squeezing him beyond imaginable. Remus was in heaven.

“F—Fuck.” He bottomed for a moment, his hands on your hips, carefully sliding in. “So tight, so warm, such a pretty pussy, perfect for a bratty student like you.” The combination of words and movements had you in that state of dizziness, wrapping your legs around his hips, pushing him until he was balls deep, both of you moaning at the pleasant feeling. “You want me to move? Baby?” He asked, kissing your neck, you nodded earning you a bite on your neck. “Words, darling.”

“Please move R—Remus, I want to feel you using me.” Magic words. Soon you were drooling, eyes rolling at the back of your skull, not even remembering when he rolled up your shirt and bra and started licking and nipping at your adorable tits, making you almost scream in delight.

With every snap of his hips, you were closer and closer, and then it hit you, like a giant and crashing wave, your body pulsated and clenched around him, almost possessively. Remus groaned at the feeling, so he kept pounding. “Where do you want me? Bunny.” He inquired, hoarsely, biting his lip and kissing your breast, trying to hold himself until you spoke.

After a few tries and a few incoherences being babbled, you managed to look at him and cupped his face with shaky hands, the most life-changing orgasm still possessing your body. “I—Inside me, please.”

“You sure?” And this time you breathed a tired yes and it was the end of him.

Being filled to the brim by your favourite professor was a new feeling you were now addicted to.

Helping you get dressed, sitting you on his lap, kissing your face, complimenting the way you took him so well, like such a good girl. You finally returned to a normal state of mind, legs still sore but with a stupid lovesick smirk, he had never seen in a person. Before leaving his classroom, you felt how his cum rolled down your thigh, making you bite your lip, turning back to see how he was tucking your white underwear into one of his drawers. “Go to Minnie’s office, loser, I’ll be waiting for you here after dinner.” Blowing him a kiss, you giggled.

Maybe being a loser wasn’t that bad

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. I appreciate any feedback!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 4 years

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not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.)

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not.

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look," you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him. First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions.

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him.

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

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kokawrites · 3 years

Text

Blue Dream (Jikook)

Blue Dream (Jikook) pt. 1

⤏ Pairing: Jungkook x Jimin

⤏ Genres: college!au, frat!au, fwb!au, (eventual) fluff and angst, smut.

⤏ Rating: 18+

⤏ Summary: Jimin is a straight-A student and dance prodigy, an overachiever with unwavering determination to succeed. But when Jungkook comes crashing in, lighter in hand, he's all too willing to let him derail the course of his life. Maybe he had been waiting to watch it burn this whole time.

⤏ Word count: 3.6k

⤏ Notes and content warnings: lots of weed and alcohol in the series as a whole, sex under the influence of drugs/alcohol, explicit sex, explicit language, jimin is whipped and tipsy, dub-con kiss

a one-shot turned series lightly inspired by my own college experience HAHA i hope you enjoy!

dm or reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist. <3

Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter

AO3

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

Jungkook gazed at him through glassy, half-lidded eyes, exhaling a wispy cloud that billowed around their heads. The smoke stung in Jimin’s lungs, his eyes pricking as he breathed it in.

“So pretty,” Jungkook breathed, pulling Jimin into his lap. “Wanna ruin you.”

And Jimin let him, sat and watched as he set him on fire from the inside out, flames licking at his insides and swallowing everything in their path. He blinked and everything he previously thought defined him, everything he had worked so hard for, was reduced to nothing but ash. But god, did he enjoy it.

Jimin was too engrossed in his essay to acknowledge his best friend when he opened the door to the study room, only mouthing a curt “Thank you” when he placed the coffee next to him. Three empty cups lay scattered on the table around him, and Taehyung looked at him disapprovingly, picking the cups up to toss them himself.

He heaved a sigh as he plopped into the chair across from Jimin. “How’s it going? How many pages do you have left?”

“I’m doing the conclusion now,” Jimin mumbled. “I’m not even gonna fucking edit it. Like, once I finish it, I’m done with it. I’m laying it to rest. Never gonna look at it again.”

Core classes could suck his dick. Why the hell did he, a freakin’ dance major, have to write a thesis about the moral and ethical implications of modern technology and its effects on the younger generation’s productivity levels, just to be able to graduate?

Taehyung let out a dry laugh. “Revising essays is for underclassmen. I just full-send everything nowadays, C’s get degrees and all that.”

Jimin grimaced. “C’s do not, however, make scholarship donors happy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung said, wincing slightly.

Taehyung knew Jimin’s grades were a touchy subject, especially with how strict his parents were. They had allowed him to pursue dance, but on the condition that he would go somewhere he got a full ride for. The full ride part wasn’t hard, since Jimin was a fucking genius–it was the part where his parents gave him shit for not going to the “better” schools they made him apply to. He ended up at USC, but anytime Jimin’s grades were unsatisfactory to his parents, they brought up how he should’ve just gone to Columbia and studied law instead.

“On that note, though, guess who’s throwing a party tomorrow night?”

“ Tomorrow night?” Jimin asked, glancing at Taehyung incredulously. “In the middle of midterms? I know Joon is a prodigy, but he needs to give the rest of us a break.”

“It’s just a kickback, nothing too big.” Taehyung shrugged, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. “He said something about this new strain of weed he tried a few days ago and wanted to share it with everyone.”

“You know I don’t smoke,” Jimin said, fingers flying on the keyboard even as he talked to Taehyung. “It’s so bad for you.”

“Yet you’ll down a fifth of vodka by yourself no problem,” the other boy retorted with a scoff, a smug look on his face. “Just come to the party. Pregame at my place. C’mooon, it’ll be fun.”

~*~

“I thought you said it was a kickback!” Jimin yelled at Taehyung, his voice barely audible over the loud music blaring through the speakers. “I don’t even recognize any of these people!”

Entering the house felt like walking into a different dimension, one 15 degrees warmer, humid, and hazy. Jimin blinked his eyes to adjust to the strobing LED lights, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of weed. He fanned the air in front of him while following closely behind Taehyung through the crowds of bodies, muttering apologies every few seconds whenever other people backed up against him.

Three couples were making out on the stairs, barely two or three steps away from each other, and Jimin watched, perplexed. He wasn’t some scandalized virgin, but he did sort of hate big social situations like this, much preferring the quiet of an empty dance studio that he had all to himself. In theory, he loved parties: he liked hanging out with people, dancing, playing games, drinking–but in practice, it was much sweatier, much louder, much more stressful. He only ever came to parties like this when Tae dragged him there, and this one was turning out to be almost as uncomfortable as that one house party they hit during Halloweekend, where someone got crossed and peed on the couch. The bar was high.

“Helloooo!” Taehyung shouted as he opened the door to Namjoon’s room, Jimin trailing behind him with a small wave. As soon as he stepped in, though, the smoke cloud entered his lungs and he coughed, his eyes watering as he tried to catch his breath. “You guys started without us, I see.”

“Yeah shit, sorry, we forgot to turn on the fan,” Hoseok laughed, getting up to switch on the box fan in the window. “You gonna be okay, Chim?”

Jimin nodded, raising the handle of vodka he had in his hand. “I’ll live.”

“You don’t smoke?” an unfamiliar voice asked, and Jimin’s eyes fell on quite possibly the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. He quirked a pierced brow up at Jimin, smoke rising around his face as he spoke.

“Right, you guys haven’t met yet,” Namjoon said, slinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders. The stranger smiled hazily at Jimin, his eyes crinkling slightly at the action. “This is Jungkookie, I’m planning on picking him up as a little in KASA. That’s Jimin and Taehyung. Those two are joined at the hip.”

“Call me Jungkook,” he said, his voice silky smooth. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You’re being really obvious,” Taehyung whispered in Jimin’s ear as he pulled his hand to guide him to the spot next to Jungkook on the ground. Jimin tried not to look at him, but he could feel his eyes boring into him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, no smoking?” Jungkook asked again, and Jimin clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, I’m a dancer. I try not to.”

Hoseok scoffed. “You literally have not smoked once in your entire life,” he teased. “You don’t ‘try not to’—you avoid that shit like the plague.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that,” Jungkook said, handing the bong to Taehyung, who thanked him. “You don’t like what you don’t like. Though I will say, you're kind of missing out, especially with this new shit.” There was a teasing lilt in his voice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jimin was absolutely drowning.

He turned to look at Taehyung as he took a rip, watching the water in it bubble as he inhaled. Taehyung handed it to Yoongi, mouth pressing into a line as he held in the smoke, tilting his head back when he finally exhaled, blinking slowly. Jimin had to admit that his best friend was hot as fuck, especially like this. He bit his lip as he imagined what Jungkook looked like while doing that. He glanced over at said man to see him already looking at him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling.

“I don’t know how I ever used to smoke out of a bong without ice,” Taehyung groaned, settling back on his palms. “It’s so crisp. Just felt like I was breathing normally. Fuck, it’s been too long.”

Jin’s squeaky laugh made everyone let out a chuckle, watching him struggle to get his words out through his laughing fit. He had always been a giggly high. “Re-Remember that time, we used a gra-gravity bong, and you got so fucking high you sent Jimin’s nudes–”

“You guys wanna play a game?” Jimin asked, and everyone made noises of agreement. He could feel Jungkook staring at him but he ignored it, his face flushing in embarrassment. That was not a story he was ready for Jungkook to hear.

It had been a couple weeks since they last all got together, most of them being in their junior and senior years. Jimin reminisced about the times when they all lived on campus, within walking distance of each other, even some of them just down the hall. A lot had changed since then, but one thing hadn’t:

“You fucking suck at this!” Hoseok yelled as Jimin took another pull, finishing off the last of the bottle, trying not to choke as Hoseok whacked his shoulder. He hadn’t drank that much, really, he just took large ones, and Jungkook and Tae had taken a couple of swigs as well. Jimin would never admit how much the sight of Jungkook’s lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle affected him. “We even gave you a handicap, and Jungkook homie stocked for you twice!!”

“Fuck off,” he groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and capping the empty bottle, placing it on the ground. He swatted Taehyung’s hand away when he reached over to ruffle his hair, making him laugh and punch his arm instead. “I hate this stupid game.”

“Let’s just chill and watch something,” Yoongi drawled, his eyes almost closed shut. He placed his controller on the coffee table, arm slinging over the back of the sofa. Everyone nodded, sinking into their seats on the couches, and Namjoon opened Netflix on the tv, selecting New Girl. Classic.

Jimin glanced around the room through his drunken haze, his vision lagging as his head moved around. He always wondered what it felt like to get high, or even crossed. He reached into the party size bag of chips in his lap and came up empty, groaning loudly. He didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes fixed on him as the sound escaped his mouth. “Imma go grab some more chips from downstairs,” he slurred, sighing as he got to his feet.

No one really acknowledged him, too focused on the show, so Jimin just slipped out, stumbling a little more than he’d like to admit. The world was rocking underneath him, tossing him against the wall as he walked down the hallway, hand coming out to grasp at the door frame to his right. He paused there to lean his head against the wood, trying to steady himself.

“Hi, pretty,” a voice came from behind him, and Jimin’s brow furrowed. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew, so he was slow to raise his head, still leaning on the wall for support.

The stranger rested a hand on his shoulder as they came around to his front, and before Jimin could process anything, his mouth was being captured in a kiss, the hand on his shoulder coming up to roughly cup his jaw. Jimin panted into the stranger’s mouth, the pleasant feeling clashing with the confusion in his thoughts. He felt a tongue slide between his lips and he welcomed it, leaning into the wet warmth–and suddenly everything was gone, a loud “ hey!” and a thud making Jimin’s eyes fly open to see the sight in front of him.

Jungkook was holding some guy, presumably the one who had been kissing Jimin just now, up against the wall by the collar of his shirt, a venomous look in his eye. “Are we gonna have a problem?” he asked lowly, the other guy shaking his head frantically. Jungkook tossed him to the side, the man stumbling a bit as he scrambled away. “Good. Fuck off.”

Jimin just gaped at the boy in front of him, eyes darting down to the clenched fist at his side, then back up to his face, still turned in the direction of the guy he sent running away. “Jungkook? What the hell was that?” His brows furrowed and his mouth pressed into a pout, crossing his arms.

Jungkook turned to face him fully, an unreadable look on his face. “You’re drunk, and some asshole just tried to take advantage of you, that’s what happened.”

Something about the way he spoke made Jimin feel brave, made him feel reckless. He took a step towards him, chin tilted up to maintain eye contact. He slipped his hands around Jungkook’s waist and linked them behind the small of his back, head cocking to the side. He moved his gaze to the lip piercing on Jungkook’s face and wondered what the cool metal would feel like against his tongue. “What if I told you I liked it? That I wanted him to kiss me?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared slightly as he tongued the inside of his cheek. He tangled a hand in Jimin’s hair and tugged, a gasp leaving Jimin’s lips as his head fell backwards, forcing him to look at Jungkook through fluttering eyelashes. “Then I’d call you a liar.”

Jimin leaned in first, eyes fluttering closed as Jungkook pressed into him, their lips slotting together perfectly. Jimin's mouth fell open as he gasped, barely having time to breathe before Jungkook was on him again, devouring him and swallowing his moans. Jimin broke away to mouth down the sharp line of Jungkook’s jaw, licking and sucking, nipping at the part right under his ear. Jungkook bit down on Jimin’s shoulder with a gruff moan, rolling his hips forward, his hard cock rubbing against Jimin’s through their pants. It wasn’t enough.

“ More ,” Jimin whined against his mouth, “want you to fuck me, need to feel you inside of me, please, Jungkook, ple-”

“Get a fucking room!” Someone shouted from down the hall, and the two of them pulled away from each other, starting at each other with wide eyes before bursting into laughter. Jimin thought Jungkook looked prettiest like that, his eyes sparkling, a light pink dusting his cheeks. But right now all he wanted was to hear more of his rough groans, and feel him stretch him until he felt like he was ripping into two.

~*~

Jungkook had barely stepped foot into his dorm before he was pinning Jimin against the door, one arm snaking around his waist to grip his ass, the other roughly pulling at his hair. Jimin melted into his touch, slipping his hands under Jungkook’s shirt to run his hands up his chiseled torso, feeling his muscles tensing under his smooth skin. Jungkook hissed at the cold touch and Jimin just smiled into their kiss, their teeth clashing and tongues twirling, bodies grinding desperately.

“Jimin,” Jungkook gasped, his head lolling back against the door with a soft thud . Jimin chased his mouth with his, getting onto his toes, but still not quite able to reach the right angle. Jungkook’s big hands on his ass were suddenly hoisting him up, Jimin’s legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. Jimin moaned loudly, feeling pleased with himself as a smirk spread on Jungkook’s lips, his kisses turning a little more bruising, a little more desperate.

Jungkook walked them over to his bed, Jimin falling onto his back with a giggle. With Jimin’s legs still around his waist, Jungkook leaned forward, pressing his palms into the mattress on both sides of Jimin’s face. Jimin looked up at him from this position, his chest rising and falling as he admired the fucked-out expression on Jungkook’s face, his hair ruffled from where his hands had tugged it in all directions.

Jimin wet his lips. “Are you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna fuck me?”

Jungkook laughed, dipping his face down so their noses were touching. “You want my dick that bad, baby?”

Jimin groaned, his head pressing back into the bed, “C’mon, you know I do,” he whined. Jungkook started kissing down the side of his neck, “Wanted you as soon as I saw you. Wanted to sit in your lap, feel your hard cock rubbing against me– ah!”

Jungkook’s tongue darted out to lick over the blooming hickey he just planted at the junction of Jimin’s shoulder and neck. Jimin whacked his chest weakly, frowning. “What the fuck, that’s super visible!”

“That’s the point,” Jungkook said simply, a coy smile on his lips.

Jimin’s had plenty of hookups, been in this position too many times to count. But there was something about the way Jungkook touched him, took his time with his movements, let his touch linger just a hair longer than he’d expected. It was new and thrilling, made every hair on his body stand up as he anticipated how he’d touch him next.

By the time Jungkook reached over to his desk to grab lube from the drawer, Jimin was squirming and grasping at anything he could reach, eager for Jungkook’s touch, yearning for it. He spat into his palm before wrapping it around the head of Jungkook’s hard dick in front of his face. Jungkook hissed at the wet sensation, hand gripping the wood table to steady himself as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Put it in your mouth,” he breathed after a few moments, swatting Jimin’s hand away and scooting his hips forward. Jimin’s jaw dropped immediately, licking a stripe from the base to the tip, swirling around the head before sinking his mouth down on the length, whimpering when it hit the back of his throat. “Fuck, just like that baby. You take dick so well, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Jimin whined, coming up for air before mouthing at it again, taking it even deeper this time. The sound of Jungkook’s broken groans and panting from above him set his insides aflame, pre-cum leaking out of his dick. His hips bucked up, dick bouncing against his lower abs and meeting nothing but air, tears of frustration pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Jungkook seemed to understand, bringing one hand down to wrap it around his leaking cock, making Jimin’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He panted around Jungkook’s length, spit dribbling down his chin, grateful moans echoing from his swollen lips.

“Can I fuck your mouth?” Jungkook asked, his hand gripping the back of Jimin’s head as he nodded. “Fuck, okay, thank you baby. I’m so close already.”

Jimin held eye contact with him as he brought himself to orgasm, his hands squeezing his muscled thighs on the sides of his face. “ Fuck ,” Jungkook panted, “gonna come, shit, Jimin–!” He tried to pull out but Jimin held him in place, swallowing around him, burying his nose in his groin as his load shot down his throat. Jungkook groaned through his high, hips stuttering, Jimin’s name a mantra on his lips.

Jungkook recovered quickly and returned the favor, and Jimin came faster than he expected, the alcohol making him more sensitive. He would’ve liked Jungkook to fuck him open, make him grip his sheets as he pounded into him, but he was too impatient. He panted as he lay on the bed, the sheets sticky with his sweat, ribbons of cum painted on his belly.

“So pretty,” Jungkook said, pressing a kiss to his lips. Jimin closed his eyes as he smiled, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through his veins.

~*~

“What’s it like?” Jimin asked, eyeing the pipe in Jungkook’s hand. “Smoking. Being high.”

Jungkook contemplated it for a moment, softly exhaling smoke into the air. “It’s different for everyone. For me, I guess it’s pretty relaxing, just… nice. I don’t know. I don’t really think about it anymore.”

“I want to try it.”

Jungkook’s brows knit together as he looked over at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. “You sure? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Jimin shrugged. “I just want to try, one puff shouldn’t hurt, right?”

Jungkook’s eyes searched his face for any hesitancy, and Jimin hoped he looked as confident as he felt. Because he did, really. He sobered up a while ago, his head and vision clear. It wasn’t the first time he thought of trying it, but when he had asked Taehyung, he just laughed at him, saying something along the lines of, ‘Damn, this weed is strong.’

“I just don’t wanna like, be responsible for corrupting you, or anything,” Jungkook chuckled, setting the pipe down on his desk and playing with the lighter.

“You just came in my mouth, right here on this bed, like 10 minutes ago,” Jimin deadpanned, rolling his eyes and reaching for the pipe himself. Jungkook threw his head back with laughter, his eyes falling to Jimin’s puffy, pink lips when he looked at him again. His breath stuttered as he bit his lip, and Jimin knew that in that moment, he won. “Light it for me, baby?”

Jungkook inhaled sharply through his nose as Jimin scooted closer to him on the bed, resting his bent right leg on Jungkook’s left thigh. Jimin held the pipe to his lips and looked up at Jungkook through his eyelashes, satisfaction blooming in his chest at the look on his face: like Jungkook was a predator, and Jimin was his prey.

“Only take as much as you think you can handle,” Jungkook warned, and Jimin nodded. He had never actually done it himself, but he had watched his friends do it countless times before, so he wasn’t entirely clueless. Jimin exhaled steadily as Jungkook flicked the lighter, his eyes parting from his face to glance down as he brought the small flame to meet the buds in the bowl. The soft crackle of the burning embers as Jimin inhaled echoed quietly in the otherwise silent room, and Jimin closed his eyes as he fought the urge to cough.

He inhaled sharply, drawing the smoke from his mouth into his lungs. He felt it prick at his insides for a second then let it all out, expecting to feel the warm mist floating out of his lips. His eyes fluttered open when he realized Jungkook was on him, drawing the smoke into his own mouth. Jimin gaped slightly as a white trail drifted up out of the corner of his lips, framing his perfect face.

Jungkook looked at him like he could ruin his life, and Jimin didn't mind.

#thebtswritersclub #jikook #bts fanfic #bts smut #jeon jungkook x park jimin #jikook fic #jikook college au #jikook smut #bts #smut #bts mxm #kokawrites #blue dream

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

fever - sokka x reader

this has been sitting in my drafts half finished for 3 weeks so i thot it was prime time i actually finished it

this is kinda based off the song w dua lipa and angele so you can listen to that if you want

summary: sokka's convinced there's a mystery illness keeping you from focusing, but somehow he's completely oblivious that the only 'sick' you are is lovesick, and he's the reason you can't focus.

a/n: i have never written a sickfic. but this is like. a fake sick fic. its an idiots in love fic. i mean this is coming from mr "is he taller than me? is he better looking?" himself so. it makes sense. as usual, this is not proofread bc im a lazy mf

also im sorry for being vague with the calc but i was NOT about to do math during summer who do you think i am? ??

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): mentions of being sick and 🤢calculus 🤮 but otherwise tooth rotting fluff

How could the smartest man you knew be so, so incredibly stupid?

You thought that you were being obvious, so obviously that you were sure he knew. It was embarrassing how obvious you were.

You had met Sokka in your calculus class at the start of the new semester after you ended up sitting next to each other, and it wasn’t a stretch to say that you were immediately smitten. With eyes like the ocean and a face that had to have been crafted by the gods, you were almost too distracted to respond when he asked you for a pencil. But when he winked at you after giving his thanks, it only solidified what you had already suspected: you had known this man for all of five minutes, and you already had a crush on him.

Little did you know, it was going to turn into the most infuriating crush you had ever experienced.

You and Sokka became fast friends even though calculus was the only class you had together. Unfortunately, it was also something that you completely sucked at. Bad news, it was required for your major. Good news, Sokka was some sort of genius and offered to tutor you — Wednesdays in the library turned into a weekly occasion, and served as an opening for your calculus skills, your feelings for Sokka, and your exasperation to all grow stronger.

You normally weren’t someone to beat around the bush. If you started to like someone, you told them and dealt with whatever happened after, but something about Sokka just kept you from spilling your feelings outright. You knew that if he didn’t feel the same way, your relationship likely wouldn’t change, but there was still that tiny voice that said it’s better to stay like this in case things do go wrong — and this was the first time you listened to that voice. You simply valued your friendship too much.

But that didn’t mean you were going to be completely quiet about it — you hoped that if you did enough, he would be able to realize you liked him and do the whole process for you. A bit of a dim hope, but crushes make people do stupid things.

Things like bringing an extra coffee to every session, laughing at all his jokes (even the bad ones), sitting a little closer to him than usual, not dropping out of this wretched class so you could spend time together (it might’ve been required, but you still counted it). He didn’t make a point to object to anything, so you knew you weren’t making him uncomfortable — but you had concluded after nearly a whole semester of working and studying together that he was the most oblivious person in all of Ba Sing Se. He could teach you all kinds of formulas, but had no idea that you liked him. Grand.

Today was arguably the most important session out of any of them, seeing as your next class was the final, so it was only fitting that Sokka unknowingly made himself more interesting than any material you could’ve been working with. His arms were going to be the death of both you and your calc grade. You swore that the heat rushing to your cheeks was actually emanating off of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sokka grinned as he saw you and raised a hand in greeting, a sentiment you would’ve returned had it not been for the coffee cups in your hands. You settled for mirroring his grin and settled down in the seat across from him. You slid his coffee cup over, set your own down, then shrugged your bag off all before taking a seat.

“You ready to study ‘till your eyes bleed?” he asked, prompting a nervous laugh from you.

“You jest, but my eyes might actually start bleeding depending on how long we go,” you sighed. “There’s a reason I got an extra shot of espresso today.”

“Come on — by now you should know that you have nothing to worry about! I am the best teacher there is, and you got me all to yourself.”

Your eyes widened momentarily and you coughed, purposefully averting your gaze to give yourself some time to recover. Okay, he was going to make it really hard to focus today. “Let’s just get into it.”

He nodded and flipped open his notebook, beginning to talk as he rifled through his bag for a few extra things. “Okay, we’re just gonna start with going over the basics, then we’ll work our way up. There’s a couple practice problems on that page, so you can go ahead and answer those as a warmup.

You slid the notebook over in front of you and after approximately five seconds of looking at the first problem, found yourself studying Sokka rather than the material. Who could blame you? In the battle of cute tutor boy versus calculus, he was going to win every time.

He turned around and you immediately averted your eyes once again, trying to appear extremely involved, but you found that your mind was empty on anything to do with math. “Hey, uh— how do you do this first one? I’m totally blanking here.”

“We use limits in everything — this is actually something you’re really good at!” He studied you intensely and frowned. “Are you okay? Like, you’re not sick or anything, are you? You seem kinda out of it.”

You choked out a laugh and shook your head. “No, no — I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired.” As if to demonstrate your lie, you took a sip from your coffee and cringed internally. Love had turned you into an idiot.

He seemed to buy it as he nodded and picked up the pencil, scribbling a couple of notes as he explained the first problem to you. “Does that make sense?” You nodded and he handed the pencil back to you. “Okay — the other ones follow the same kind of process. It should be easy enough.”

You managed to get a little further in the second problem, but your lovestruck mind would not stop focusing back on Sokka every time you tried to do, well, anything. Curse him and his perfect arms, and eyes, and hairstyle, and everything.

You shook your head and set the pencil down once more, letting loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Yes, you did. “I just can’t focus at all.” Because of you. You picked up your cup once more and took a sip, hoping it would do something to get you back into the math state of mind.

Sokka frowned once more as he put the back of his hand against your forehead. “God, you’re hot.” You nearly choked on your coffee as your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets — he had to know what he was doing by now — how could he not? “Like, you’re completely burning up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I swear— I just…” you set your cup down on the table and heaved a sigh that was a touch more exasperated than necessary. “Are you telling me you seriously haven’t noticed? Like, not a single thing this whole year?”

“I’ve noticed a lot of things this year,” he chuckled. “It’s kind of our whole job, so you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific.”

You finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Sokka, I’m not— I’m not sick! Haven’t you noticed that I’m only ever flustered, or running into things, or forgetting info, or— or just a complete idiot when I’m around you? I like you, like, a lot, and I have for an embarrassingly long time! The reason I can’t focus is because I am hopelessly attracted to you in every single way.”

His brows creased for a moment and you clamped your mouth shut, worried that you had just ruined everything. It was only after a pause that felt like a century that he finally responded, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Well, why didn’t you just say something?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in pure surprise before the annoyance set in. You set your jaw as your brows furrowed and you hit him lightly on the side of his arm with the back of your palm. “You can’t be serious! You— you’ve gotta be messing with me by now. I really can’t believe that you can be that smart but this oblivious!”

He finally let the grin play across his lips in full force and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I don’t know how you don’t expect me to mess with you when you scrunch up your face all cute like that every time you get mad. Besides, I started liking you after that fifth class; I offered to help you out so I could spend more time with you! I didn’t realize you felt the same way. I kinda just enjoyed the free coffee and getting to look at you all the time.”

“I can’t believe you!” you cried as you hit his other arm. “You’re telling me that I had to deal with this- this mental turmoil about whether you liked me back, while you were just enjoying the free eye candy and coffee the whole time?”

“You have nothing to worry about! I enjoyed the company far more than the coffee,” he joked, a certain twinkle in his eye. “But, you are probably out a couple twenties after all of that. So, what do you say about this Saturday, the cafe by the shoe store? My treat.”

“Damn right it’s your treat,” you shot back, though you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your face. “You owe me a lot — you have to make up for those coffees and all the emotional distress you caused.”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty of time to make up for lost time. After all, we do have a lot of coffee dates to get through.” And when he winked at you just like that first day, you remembered just how impossible it was to be angry at Sokka. “But first, we kinda have to get through this study date. The final’s still happening tomorrow.”

You responded with a raised brow. “This is a study date?”

Sokka shrugged and grinned. “They’ve all been study dates. You just didn’t know it.”

idiots in love idiots in love idiots In LOVe

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla: @marianne1806

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka fic #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

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Hey! A new wlw short story is up on my Patreon. Check it out! And please consider becoming a Patron for more wlw writing and more. As a struggling artist anything helps.

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Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

🌸Check out my Patreon for the full story! 🌸

#wlw #urban fantasy #writing #found family #sapphic #short story #femslash #writers on tumblr #writeblr #magical realism #patreon #my work #long post #long post cw

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 3 years

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Fun in the Sun

Ezekiel ‘Ez’ Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 830

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, smidge of sexy talk, language, fluffy ending, (gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

The sun smiled stretching for miles as the lake shimmered magnificently. The eye candy lounging next to Y/N definitely didn’t hurt either. Ezekiel Reyes was intense, intelligent, and exceptionally handsome. Most days, Y/N had to contain her drool knowing her feelings bordered along inappropriate for her best friend.

It was official. Y/N was indeed a walking cliché. A little getaway was exactly what they both needed riding to a nearby lake a few hours out of town. A spot only they knew, a secret among many. Absolute privacy and a little slice of heaven.

The undertone of his gorgeously kissed skin shimmered. His breaths were slow and steady as Y/N stared in awe at his rippling muscles. She wasn’t sure when it happened but somewhere in their friendship something shifted leaving her confused and horny. Hugs held on a new meaning lingering longer and longer. If she were honest, Ezekiel was hands-down her favorite person. Y/N sighed propping herself up on her side.

“It’s rude to stare, ya know.”

His guttural tone sent her panicking vehemently denying his accusation; “Am not!”

“Ah, I see. So that’s how it’s gonna be, hmm?”

Y/N stuck to her guns doubling down on her words; “Damn right. Mamma ain’t raised no bitch.”

“But she did manage to create one hell of a human.”

Her stark confidence continued goading him further; “Sexy, brilliant, and authentically rad. Hell of a job if I do say so myself.”

Fast thinking had always been in Ez’s corner pinning her beneath down. Y/N wriggled underneath pressing her breasts into his playfully fighting back. His hands loosely wrapped around hers keeping them in place against the splintered dock.

His breath tickled teasingly down her cheeks muffling their surroundings. Passionate flames sparked like wildfire through her entire body. She didn’t hesitate draping her legs firmly around his defined hips. Though way soon than Y/N desired, his grin faded hesitantly pulling back.

“It isn’t our time, Y/N.”

Momentary horror filtered every crevice and bone electrifying her anxious demeanor. A heave of disapproval was all Y/N could muster internally retreating.

Y/N voice was cold, calculated; “I’ve been waiting for 26 years. All I do is fucking wait!”

“I-I—can’t.”

“Why not? Why not now?”

Her shouting escalated as she shot up from her towel storming back to the tent. Ez sprung into action catching up too easily.

“Wait, wait.”

His teeth clattered together faltering her steps before halting to a dead stop.

“What excuse are you sellin this time? This isn’t some stupid phase, E. We’ve been inseparable since fifth grade. I believe if you gave us a real chance, we could be epic.”

“I’m shit. My life is shit. It’d be selfishly unfair to drag you into my shitty life.”

Y/N turned finally meeting his penetrating toffee orbs.

A dry chuckle flittered through the stiff July air; “You don’t get it, do you?”

His eyebrow hitched in curious confusion; “Get what?”

“I don’t want the guy of my dreams when I could have the reality instead.”

She looked radiant and bewitching capturing his attention at her confession. His body responded before his mind locking lips both savoring the nostalgic taste of patience. Seconds ticked by as Y/N deepened their messily sexy kiss. It was ferocious and terrifying but drew her in like a damn moth to a blazing flame. Tears instantly welled behind her hooded lids.

“Here I thought you were all brains. Turns out you’re just an idiot.”

“I still remember you in Mrs. Rosa’s Garden as this lively little girl who overwaters the plants because she doesn’t know when to stop giving. Or that time when Billy Stilinski tripped you during track practice and you broke his nose?”

“That garden was my sanctuary. Somehow, that old lady always knew when Ma and Pops were headed towards nuclear and got me outta there. And Billy was an asshole who deserved much more than just one broken bone.”

“Alright, alright. Settle down firecracker.”

Both laughed embracing their close quarters. Ez ran his hands along her shoulder rubbing soft circles into her skin.

Her rooted worry bubbled edging its way into her voice; “Don’t string me along if you aren’t completely serious, Ezekiel. Stop now or never again. The choice is yours.”

Uncertainty flooded her senses. Gabby and Emily flashed through his memories; two different loves at crucially different times in his life. But Y/N was there whether in the background or front and center Y/N was the one familiarity he hadn’t realized back then. But now, Y/N was here, in this moment proclaiming her feelings with this whimsical glimmer Ez found adorable. Ez reached forward pushing a loose strand behind her ear highlighting her true beauty.

“I want you. All of you. All the damn time if you’ll have me.”

Y/N rose to her tiptoes grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Her tone a lusty whisper; “Finally, something smart came outta that pretty mouth of yours after all.”

~~~~~~

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#ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #mayans mc #mayans x reader #mayans fic #ez reyes fic #mayans fx #ez reyes drabble #ez reyes imagine #ez x reader #my writing #fun in the sun

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emmies-archives · 4 years

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Heads and Tails

Genre: Fluff, Angst, College AU

Warnings: Aged up, smut, drinking, blowjobs, good old fashion drunk hookup, self degrading at one point, ahhh non descriptive smut....

Wordcount: 6.8k (my bad)

Summary: You slowly become best friends with Noya. One night you get drunk with him and Tanaka and it leads to drunk confessions. You two start dating afterward, you try to surprise him one day by at practice but his old feelings for Kiyoko bring out your insecurities when you see him talking to her.

A/N: This took wayyy to long to write, and it’s a lot longer than I expected. First piece for Haikyuu and I was drinking wine while writing most of it so please forgive typos. The ending is ehh because I just wanted to get it finished.

Inspired by a rp with @astrid-thirsts (....... Its not as much angst as I said)

You couldn’t remember the last time you were excited for a volleyball game. They weren’t something new you went to. You had always watched Karasuno’s boys team play, ever since you were little. Fond memories filled your thoughts whenever you thought about going to the matches. For a while though, there was something missing. The excited cheers from fans started to dwindle and you found less and less seats being filled. There were no longer group hugs when the team won. Replaced with hung heads and silent tears. But you kept going. Even as the boy’s losses stacked against them so high it cast a shadow big enough to drown them. Things started to change this year.

Rumors floated around the school pretty quickly. Apparently, there were knew recruits on the team and they had pretty good potential. It piqued your interest. If there was a chance that the team could start building back the foundation it once had, you wanted to be there to see it.

You decided to take the long way back to your dorm one day. It gave you a chance to walk by the gym where volleyball practice was held. You walked for a while, a tinge of excitement pooling in your stomach at the thought of maybe getting to see the team up close. For years you had watched them from high up in the bleachers. The only constant as the members came and went.

As the gym came into view, you slowed your pace. A part of you wanted to peek through the doors. With a sudden burst of courage, you went up to the doors. The few steps seemed like forever. Reaching a hand out to push one side open, your heart jumped when it slide open right when you touched it. The first thing you saw was a pair of bright brown eyes. The boy tilted his head a bit and you noticed a towel wrapped around his neck.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

That was one of the first times you had actually spoken to him, you weren’t even sure if he had known your name before. You weren’t a stranger to Nishinoya. He was in a few of your classes; you had just never really talked to him all that much. You didn’t know if it was the fact he was on the volleyball team, or that you had a huge crush on him but, it even thinking of talking to him made you nervous. I wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk to him, he was just overwhelming. Constantly full of energy, lighting up whatever room he walked into. The idea of just walking up to him and striking a conversation was intimidating. So, when one day you got paired together for a project you didn’t know if you were excited or scared.

It was easy to talk to him. A lot easier than you expected. Something about him always drew you in, even if he was going on and on about the volleyball team for the fifteenth time in the hour. The playful energy that exuded from him held a welcoming arm out to you. Like it was offering everything you’d ever wanted, even if he didn’t realize it. But you took it. Grabbed its hand and ran.

Its grasp eventually led to more nights spent with him, even after the work necessary for the project was finished. It sort of became the new norm for you. After his evening practice, you would either go to his dorm or he’d come to yours. The conversations came easier, shifting from class and volleyball to shared hobbies. You learned more about him than you ever thought you would. Every time you left his dorm, your head swarmed with the memories of the night. The entire walk home felt like you were floating, and you kind of felt ridiculous for it. The way your heartbeat sped up when he was close, or how your eyes lingered on him when he wasn’t looking shouldn’t happen. Especially because you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the courage to tell him your feelings. Little did you know, Nishinoya felt the same way.

He started to rush through the end of practice just so he could see you after. Just spending time with you was the best part of his day. He didn’t realize what his feelings were, just that he was happy when he was with you. It wasn’t until he brought you up to Tanaka at practice for the fifth day in a row did he slowly start to think different about you. Tanaka didn’t help either, teasing him about if that’s the reason he left practice early. If you knew about that, Nishinoya was sure you’d chew him out.

Your love for volleyball was only one of the things that drew him in. It was the way you always found the good in something, even if it felt like the world was ending at the time. One time he came texted you about a test in one of his classes, his grade ended up being a lot lower than expected and he was a little annoyed. You just offered to help him study for the next one, wanting to make him feel better. To him it felt like the entire weight was lifted off his shoulders just with that one response. There were other things too, of course. You were incredibly beautiful, catching his eye before you even became friends.

Months went by and the two of you fell in routine. He would meet you halfway between his dorm and yours before classes, walking you to yours which barely left him any time to make it to his. You told him you were fine when he mentioned it to you on accident one morning, but each day he stood under the same lamppost waiting for you. Slowly, without meaning to, you fell in love with him. But it didn’t feel like falling. It was more like stepping into a warm embrace.

“Yuu?” Your voice was quiet as you called his name for the second time in the past few minutes. Slightly amused you nudged him with your foot under the table, trying to get his attention. “Nishinoya?!”

“Oh, sorry!” He set his phone on the table, a goofy grin on his face when he looked up at you. “Did you need something?”

“I was helping you with your Algebra homework. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“You’re going to be pretty disappointed then, because I haven’t done a problem in at least a half hour.” You couldn’t even be mad at him; all you could do was shake your head. He promised he’d work on his homework for the next hour. He lasted maybe ten minutes before groaning and pushing the paper away from him. “This is too boring. It’s a Friday, we should go out and have some fun!”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Wanna get drunk?”

Three hours later, after an embarrassing little bit of Nishinoya watching you get ready as he laid on your bed, you ended up in Tanaka’s dorm room. Drink in hand you sat in his desk chair as Nishinoya and him sit on the ground in front of you.

This wasn’t what you thought when he mentioned getting drunk, but it was fun, nonetheless. You preferred this. Nishinoya was a popular guy so you figured he’d bring you to one of the clubs near campus, but this felt different. Maybe even special. Just you two and his best friend. Something about it was heartwarming. Until Tanaka brought up their manager again. It had been so many times the night already that you were tired of hearing about it.

“I’m telling you, y/n. It is better when she ignores me!” Tanaka yelled emphasizing his words by throwing his arm out, causing his drink to slosh over the edge of the cup.

“Really? I would’ve thought that being ignored would hurt.” You say, trying not to glance at Nishinoya when you do. Your feelings completely opposite your words.

“No, no it doesn’t. I don’t know how to explain it. Noya! You try for me; I can’t think straight.”

“Ahh, I don’t know man.” You didn’t notice the slight discomfort lining Nishinoya’s words or the way he looked to you as he responded. Already on your fifth drink of the night, you started to feel your head swim past tipsy. You caught his glance smiling into your cup as you drank more of whatever concoction he had made you.

“How’s your drink, y/n?” Nishinoya asked standing to make himself another one.

“Really good actually!” Your voice was louder than you anticipated, making you cringe slightly. “How are you so good at making drinks?”

“I learned my secret from those old Italian grandmas on youtube. I just don’t measure anything, letting my heart decide what to put in it.” All you could do was stare at him as he demonstrated. Tossing random things into his cup, trying not to make a disgusted face at the amount of alcohol you watched him pour.

“Did you… put that much into all my other drinks?” His toothy grin was enough of an answer and you stared into your cup. You hadn’t even tasted the liquor.

Several rounds and a few shots later, it was your turn again. You had brought up the idea to play truth or drink. It was a game you had always played with your girl friends back home, so you decided why not. The amount of alcohol in your system didn’t help either.

“So, y/n.” Tanaka started, you could already see the evil look in his eyes. “Out of everyone on the volleyball team, which one of use would you want to hook up with?”

The question should’ve startled you, it probably would’ve if you hadn’t had the boost of vodka running through your veins and the newfound courage that came with it. Your answer came with no hesitation, you even looked into his eyes as you said it.

“Noya.” Your eyes flicked from his wide eyes to the growing smile on his lips. Not at all aware to the blush that flooded his cheeks.

“Oh, dayum. I thought for sure you’d drink to that one.” Tanaka said but you didn’t really pay attention to his words. Your eyes focused on Nishinoya, feeling like if you ripped them from him. You’d never be able to look him in the eyes again.

“You’re turn, y/n.” Nishinoya’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Not able to tear his eyes away from yours.

Caught up in the moment, you direct your question towards him. “Yu-“

Your words are cut off as Tanaka lets out a loud groan, drawing your attention to him.

“Grossss, you guys can take that shit elsewhere. I’m gonna text Kiyoko again.”

That’s how you found yourself sitting on one of the campus’s benches, your side nearly pressed against Nishinoya.

“Y/n, you look so beautiful under the light from the lamppost.” In your drunken state, you found his normally constant flirting cute. Your cheeks burn lightly from the deep blush resting on them. The two of you sit in silence after that. Neither of your quite ready to go back to your dorms.

“You know, I never got to ask you my question.” You say as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“You’re right, I forgot.” His response was short, but you could hear the hopeful tone swimming in it. “You can ask me now if you still want to.”

“Yuu, will you kiss me?”

“I don’t think that would’ve worked as a question, y/n.” He answered.

“God, just shut up and kiss me.” You quipped back, moving to face him. He didn’t even respond. Cupping your cheek, you both leaned in, you were too impatient to wait for him. The kiss was soft and sweet, ending too soon. You wanted more.

Ten minutes later after dragging him to your dorm you pushed the door open. Thankful you didn’t share it with anyone as you pulled him into the room. You gently pushed him to sit on the bed, sitting on his lap arms wrapped around his neck loosely.

“I wasn’t kidding. He spoke. “You really do look amazing tonight.”

You hummed in response, not trusting your voice. Staring into his warm brown eyes, the fairy lights that light up your room danced in the reflection of them.

“You’re so handsome, Yuu.” Your voice is quiet and uneven as you talk. “You always are, I know I’ve never told you that before.”

“You’re drunk, y/n.” His voice matched yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“It’s your fault, dummy.” You shook your head, laughing at the amount of alcohol he probably put into your drinks, not realizing how fast you would drink them. “I meant what I said you know.”

“Really? I thought that was just for the game, you wouldn’t prefer someone else?” You could see the hope swirling in his eyes.

“Absolutely not. I don’t like anyone else.” You answered while your hands gingerly played with the ends of his hair.

“You like me?” His eyes widened at your statement and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You didn’t realize?” You asked and he shook his head as his answer. “I thought I made it a little obvious, but yes I do.”

Your voice was nearly a whisper as you leaned in close to him. Breath ghosting over his lips, you could feel him shiver a bit and it put a smile on your face. He didn’t have to respond with words to make you know he felt the same way. Your lips connected again, this time different than before. Rough and passionate. Like he was pouring everything he was holding in into your lips. You did the same, every pent-up emotion you felt for him, every lingering gaze you spent trying to make yourself confess, every single thing.

The kiss became rougher, teeth clashing and noses bumping as you pulled closer to him. Unknowingly grinding your hips down into him at the way his tongue slipped into your mouth. A soft whimper slipping from your lips.

“Yuu..” You breathed out when he pulled away, panting himself.

“Fuck, y/n. Your lips are so soft.” He leaned in again, pulling you into another kiss. You could taste the lingering vodka on his tongue as it danced with yours. Both of you fighting for dominance. He groaned as you pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging gently at it. He jerked his hips up and you could feel him against your core. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You’re just….”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, smiling as you slipped off his lap. Hands sliding down his torso, stopping at his waistband. The tent in his pants already obvious. You looked back up to him, waiting for him to give you some sort of confirmation you could keep going.

He grabbed your hands gently, leaning in to press another short kiss against your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just, let me take care of you.” Confidence flooded your voice in your drunken stupor. He could only nod at your words and you moved your hands lower, palming his hardness through his pants. Enjoying the quiet groans that fall from his lips at the sudden friction. You tug on his waistband and he shifts his hips up, helping you pull his pants down. You move up pressing your lips against his again as you slip your hand into his boxers. Feeling him hiss lightly against your lips at your hand against him.

“Ah, shit-“ You could barely hear his groans as you focused wrapping your hand around his cock, loosely stroking it.

“You’re already so hard, Yuu. Did my answer affect you that much?” He bit his lip nodding again at your words as you worked your hand. A smile tugged at your lips.

You moved down further, placing soft kisses against his abs. Feeling him shudder as you trailed down, stopping at his boxers before pulling them down all the way. His member springing free, slapping against his stomach

“You’re so pretty.” You ran your tongue up the underside of his cock lightly, admiring the way it twitched lightly in your hold before swirling your tongue around the tip as you pumped the rest of his length. Hearing his quiet groans pushed you forward, and you looked up to him, meeting his gaze and you slowly brought more of him into your mouth. Watching as his head fell back through your blurry vision.

“I should be the one saying that, y/n.” He said, his voice unsteady.

You pulled back with a pop, smirking up at him. “Don’t hold back, let me hear you.”

You wait for him to respond before dipping your head back down, taking him into your mouth again. A loud moan fell from his lips as you did, and you had to press your hands into his thighs to keep him from bucking up into your mouth. Once he stilled himself, you started wrapping your fingers around what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. Swiping your tongue over the slit that leaked precum already.

You could feel his thighs twitching under you as you worked your mouth on him. Breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat you pushed your face down until your nose brush against his pelvis. The loud moan that ripped from his throat made you hum approvingly, and you moved your hand to play with his balls. When you pulled away just enough to breathe, he moved his hand to your jaw pulling you up to him.

“Want to cum with you.” Was the only thing he said before pushing up your shirt, helping you take it off. Biting his lip to concentrate on the clasp of your bra that for some reason he just couldn’t figure out. You grabbed his hands gently stopping him before unhooking it yourself throwing it across the room. His heated gaze fell to your chest as he wasted no time in touching you. Squeezing, sucking, nipping. Every time his tongue danced around your sensitive nipples he grew more confident at the soft breathy moans you let out.

He backed up onto the bed, pulling you with him before crawling over you catching your already swollen lips in another rough kiss. You couldn’t stop the whimper the fell from your lips when he ground down into your core. It put a cocky smile on his face, something you weren’t used too.

“Noya, please.”

“What do you want me to do, baby?” His voice was low, and his words were muffled as he kissed down your neck. It was becoming too much, you wanted him. Needed him.

“Fuck me! Pleas-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as he pushed your legs open. Swiping the tip up and down your folds a few times before slowly pushing in. Your mouth fell open at the sudden fullness. He didn’t stop until he was bottomed out inside you. You looked up at him once started moving his hips, trying to paint the look on his face into your memory. His eyes blown out in lust as he fucked into you, the way he gritted his teeth trying to quiet the loud moans. It was the last clear image before the night completely blurred.

The next morning you tried recalling the events that occurred, and it only came in slivers. Like an old movie with holes burnt into the film. The pieces that you could interpret left you with memories of giving yourself to Nishinoya, and him to you. Maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember clearly. The way your head ached would’ve only been amplified by the weight of what you did last night. You tried not to think it was a mistake, but it was hard not to. Everyone has a drunken hook up once in a while. You’ve had your share, so why would this one be so different?

It was only when Nishinoya shifted beside you were you pulled from your intruding thoughts. You felt your body tense as he slid his arm over your side and bury his face into your shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent. There was a small voice in your head hoping he was still asleep. But it was nothing compared to the way you felt your heart speed up at the simple action. You closed your eyes telling yourself it was to stop your head from hurting, but you really just wanted to stay in this moment as long as you can. The soft, quiet calm before the shit storm you felt was coming. But, he proved you wrong.

Whispering your name softly as if not to wake you. You found yourself unable to answer him. Waiting to see what would happen, what your reaction to this should be. No matter how badly you wanted to be happy that this happened, you would take whatever came. You didn’t expect him to hum softly and feel his soft lips against your bare shoulder as he gently kissed it. Tangling his legs with yours, you felt him gently rubbing your arm. You couldn’t handle it anymore. His sweetness was too much, and you needed to look at him. Shifting in his hold you turned to face him. A small smile pulled at his lips when you did.

“Morning, y/n.” His voice was a bit raspy, and you found your heart speeding up again at the sight of his tussled hair. The memory of tangling your hands in it flashing across your mind and you couldn’t help the blush. “You okay?”

“Mhm. You’re just really hot.” The words spilled from your lips before you could stop them, and you groaned a little. “Fuck, ignore that. I’m still asleep.”

Nishinoya “When did we fall asleep?” Your voice was quiet, trying to ignore the way his eyes were lighting up at your touch.

laughed at your plea and shook his head, which made you reach up to push the hair that fell in his eyes.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Was it we fucked for the sec-“

“Yuu!” Your hand covered his mouth, eyes wide at the way he could casually say it. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk about it. Just that you didn’t know where to even start. There were so many things you wanted to talk or ask him about now that you were sober. You just weren’t sure if you had the courage anymore. You dropped your hand and shifted your gaze from him, a little nervous.

“Something wrong? Oh no. You regret last night. I’m so sorry, I knew I should’ve waited to make a move when we were sober. I-“ His face pulled into a panicked stare and he started rambling before you cut him off again.

“No, Yuu. I don’t regret it at all. Not one bit.” You sighed looking back to him, trying to reassure his worry. “You were… really good. I just didn’t know how to talk about it.”

“Oh thank god. I was scared I fucked up.” He relaxed a bit, slipping his hand into yours. It warmed your heart how sweet he was being. “I don’t want to ruin this… whatever this is.”

“Do you remember what I said last night?” You asked meekly, hoping he did so you wouldn’t have to repeat it.

“Which part? You said a lot, most of it sounded like my name actually now that I think.” He laughed when you shoved his arm a little, glaring at him. “I know what you said. About liking me, and I feel the same way for you.”

“Then, what is this?” Your heart was pounding in your chest as you asked, and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. The next part you forced out, not wanting to hear the answer. Fearing it would be something that would hurt. “Is this just a one time thing?”

Nishinoya stared at your for a few seconds, completely silent. It felt like forever and the nervousness that pooled in your stomach started creeping up your body. The worst responses flashed through your head.

“No, I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Or anything casual either.” His voice was steady, and serious. You could tell he meant everything he said. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Nishi. I want to go out with you.”

“Fuck yeah! Does this mean I can take you out on a date? I’ve been wanting to for a really long time just never thought I could.” He rambled a little and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A date sounds perfect. If its anywhere other than our dorms, we spend too much time in them.”

“Yes!! I’ve been wanting to for so long, I just never thought you liked me back!” His arm slid around your side again and your felt the urge to bury your face into his chest. He squeezed you tighter when you did. “Can I tell Tanaka? I feel like we owe this to him!”

“Sure. But don’t mention what we did?”

“I cant promise you that.”

You two spent most of the morning and afternoon laying in your bed. There was something about him that made you let your guard down. You could talk to him for hours about random stuff and never get bored. It was a lot nicer in his arms too. You always imagined the way it would feel to be wrapped in his arms. Even when you thought you’d never tell him how you felt. It was nice to imagine though, but it was nothing compared to now.

His usual rough wildness on the court was replaced with a softness you didn’t know his arms had. They were always covered in scratches and bruises from practice. You found yourself tracing the dark marks on his biceps, admiring the contrast against his skin. He had a story for each one. Telling it to you as your finger ran over it, and you could picture each one. You’ve seen him on the court before, he was a fury to reckon with but you didn’t realize how aware he was.

The lazy cuddling only ended when both of your stomachs growled for the third time in thirty minutes. He reached over to your nightstand for his phone, asking if you wanted him to order food in. You were thankful for that, the headache from the lingering hangover still pulsated at the back of your neck.

When the food came, you put on a movie and the two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence. You knew there were things you could talk about if you really wanted to, but you found no need to. There was something about just sitting with Nishinoya that made a sort of warm feeling hold in your chest. It was relaxing, and almost familiar.

The next two weeks flew by. Your old routine with Nishinoya quickly turning into a new one. Instead of him asking you to study as an excuse to see you, he was already at your dorm when you got back from your last class. Each time you entered your dorm and found him sitting on your bed waiting for you made your heart soar.

What you felt for him before anything happened only amplified now. Lingering gazes turned into lustful ones, soft brushes became loving embraces. It was amazing. Everything you had dreamed of and more. It wasn’t until you came by one of his practices early to surprise him did the doubt slip into your thoughts.

You pushed open the gym door entering quietly, not wanting to interrupt anything. Your eyes scanned the gym looking for him and once you did, your excitement dropped a little. Him and Tanaka were standing next to their manager, the one Tanaka always went on and on about. It looked completely innocent, they were just talking. But you didn’t miss the way Nishinoya laughed or the bright look on his face as she said something.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you didn’t even have to. He looked so excited, the way his face was flushed as he swayed on his feet. It was a simple action, they were only talking so why did it have to feel like this?

He had told you about his crush on her before, but explained it was long gone. That it had been nothing but a simple unrequited crush. But it stung seeing him so happy talking to her. Confliction twisted in your stomach. You didn’t want to be the type of girlfriend to get jealous over other girls, but this somehow felt different.

You went up to the first person next to you and quietly asked them to give the bento box in your hands to Nishinoya. It was their captain. You were a little familiar with him from watching all of their games, you just never talked to him before.

“Don’t tell him I came in. Just if you could say I dropped it off?” Your voice was unsteady and you could feel your hands shaking a little.

“Sure thing. Are you, y/n?” You could only nod as your eyes flicked back to Nishinoya still standing by their manager. “So you’re Noya’s girlfriend! I was wondering when we were going to meet you. I was beginning to think you didn’t exist, but he talks about you so much.”

“Yeah, I am. I didn’t realize he talked about me that much. I’m surprised you’re not sick of it.” You laughed nervously a little, trying not to look at them.

“No, he means no harm. He obviously really cares about you, I’m glad he has someone like you. From what I’ve heard, you seem like an amazing person.”

That hurt. You don’t know why it did, but it pulled at your chest heavily. You tried so badly to fight against the way seeing him over there picked at your brain but it didn’t work. Tanaka’s signature laugh echoed in the gym and your eyes moved to them again. Their manager was gone now, but you saw the way Nishinoya looked after her.

You could feel tears start welling in your eyes and you quickly excused yourself. Moving back toward the doors hoping to whatever gods were out there that Nishinoya didn’t see you leave. But, he did. Just as you slipped out of the door he saw you. You caught his gaze when you looked back one last time and it almost felt like the wind was knocked out of your chest.

Fighting everything inside you screaming to turn around and go to him, you ran the other way. You didn’t know what to even say if you were to go up to him.

“Y/n! Wait up!” Nishinoya yelled behind you and you gritted your teeth. Of course, he’d follow you, that’s just who he was. You slowed your pace knowing he’d catch up any moment. Facing away from him you felt his arms slip around your waist as he hugged you from behind. “Hey, sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting you here.”

You couldn’t say anything. It was like your voice was stuck in your throat even though you desperately wanted to speak. Eyes fixed on something in the distance you tried to wipe the upset expression from your face. Wanting nothing more than to turn and bury your face into him, you felt the frustration building in you.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice hurt. More than anything else so far. You were being stupid, there was no reason to worry. You knew that so why did you feel so shitty? When you didn’t respond he moved around to face you. The panic was evident on his face when he saw how upset you were.

“Baby, what happened?” His voice was soft, welcoming. You flicked your gaze to his eyes and felt a pang of guilt in your when you saw the worry flooding them. You couldn’t help but look away again.

“Nothing. I just forgot something.” Your voice was quiet, much quieter than you thought it’d be. It wasn’t very convincing, and you knew it.

“You don’t have to lie to me. Did something happen today? Is that why you came to practice?” You had to clench your jaw at his caring words. His hands cupped your face gently and you felt your lip quiver at the touch. Without meaning to, you leaned into his touch. Closing your eyes which made a tear slip from your welling eyes. “Baby, talk to me.”

You shook your head trying to shake his worry. “It’s stupid.”

You knew that wouldn’t work, but you tried. The feeling in your chest, frustration over yourself and the lingering hurt from seeing him in there became too much and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Pushing his hands from your face and burying yourself into his arms. The warmth of them didn’t do much to soothe you this time. It almost had the opposite effect. When he hugged you tightly a sob was ripped from your throat.

Crying was something you never wanted to do in front of him. You knew it would just make him worry, and yet here you were wrapped in his arms as your tears stained his shirt. Guilt tore at you again at that thought. He was supposed to be at practice. This was completely your fault. You shouldn’t have even come here to begin with.

Maybe this was meant to happen. The universes way of showing you that you weren’t meant to be together. You could go back to your old ways, watching silently from the stands while she was down there with him. That thought tore through you hard.

Kiyoko was mesmerizing, there was a softness in everything she did. She was so much better than you in every way. What were you even compared to her? You kept replaying the way he looked at her in your head. He looked so happy. Did he ever look that happy with you? You began questioning everything your thought you had known about your relationship.

“Y/n!” Nishinoya’s voice ripped through your intrusive thoughts and you couldn’t help but gasp. You hadn’t even noticed when you knelt on the ground, completely focused inside your own head.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Yuu. Go back to practice. I know I’m being annoying. I-I’ll go to my dorm, its okay.”

“What? No way, I’m not letting you leave.” He shook his head brows furrowing at your statements and apologies. “Let me help you…”

The way his eyes softened as you looked into them made a fresh wave of tears slip down your face. You found yourself spilling everything you were holding in with them. All your worries and fears, the reason you were crying. The way you felt you weren’t good enough for him.

“I saw you and your manager; I can’t help but think I’m not enough for you.” He didn’t say anything to interrupt your tear-filled rambling. “ You’re so amazing, and kind. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and I just…. Maybe you should be with Kiyoko. She’s so much better than me-“

“Stop.” He suddenly spoke out, “Stop it right now. You don’t get to say that about yourself.”

“But I-“

“No! I can’t believe you would even think like that.” His voice was raised a little causing you to snap your attention to his face. He looked so angry. The concern from before gone from his features. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just, I don’t think I make you as happy as you should be.”

“Stop apologizing, y/n. This is not your fault its mine.” That made you a little confused despite how upset you still were. This wasn’t his fault; he didn’t do anything.

“It’s not your faul-“

“It is though! I know I’m not that good at showing how I feel. That’s why I waited so long to do anything.” He shook his head as he talked, and you couldn’t pick apart the look in his eyes. “Should I have not asked you out? Would this have been better as a one-time thing?”

“What? No, Yuu. Don’t say that.” You felt your voice shake when you responded, it was so quiet you weren’t even sure if he heard you.

“I knew I’d hurt you. Do something to fuck this up. I couldn’t even keep this one perfect thing, could I? God I’m so stupid! This would’ve been so much easier if I wasn’t in love with you. Maybe we shouldn’t even have started dating, I’ve only been an ass to you.” His voice got louder as he berated himself. You knew he had a bit of a temper, but you never thought it would be toward himself.

“Yuu, stop.” He didn’t hear you as he continued beating himself up, “Yuu!”

You shoved his chest lightly to get his attention, panic coursing through your body. His eyes flashed to yours and the tears that spilled from them matched your stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry.. Fuck, I’m so sorry!” He scrambles toward you, diving into your embrace. You’ve never seen him angry like that and it scared you. He could tell, the look on your face when you pushed him made his heart drop. He pulled you to him again, this time he was crying. You felt the tears against your neck as he shoved his face into your shoulder. “Baby, I didn’t mean any of that. I promise. Please, please forget it. I’m not leaving you. Just don’t- don’t leave me.”

Hearing his desperate cries into you made your heart break, forgetting everything that happened before. You sat and held him like he did to you. Giving him a place to let all his fears out in the safety of your embrace.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” You voice was basically a whisper as you ran your fingers down his hair, trying not to let the tears spill from your eyes again at they sadness in his voice and the way he clutched onto the back of your shirt.

“I’ve never loved someone before. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He spoke after a moment, he felt more relaxed in your arms and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Until you registered what he said for the second time.

“You love me?”

“Fuck. Did I say that?” He pulled away to look at you, eyes wide. All you could do was nod at his question, still processing it. “Shit, y/n. I, uh, ignore that.”

You shook your head rapidly, opening your mouth to say something. Anything. When nothing came out you leaned forward pressing your lips to his. His eyes flew open for a second but then he melted into your lips as his hands moved to bury themselves in your hair.

“I love you too.” You whispered into his lips, but he didn’t hear you. Too focused on your lips against his. You pulled back breaking the kiss to say it again, if you didn’t say it now you knew you’d regret it. He needed to hear how much he meant to you. “Yuu, I’m in love with you. I think I was before anything happened.”

“Really?”

“Let me finish!” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his eager tone. “You’re so good to me, more than I think I deserve. Hearing you beat yourself up like that. I just…. Don’t ever, ever think I regret being with you for one second. The things you said…… Yuu, they’re not true. You need to know how much you deserve.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said. He knew he had a temper, and it usually was directed toward himself. Starting off as a simple thought and snowballing into full on degrading himself. You tilted his chin up making him look at you again, wanting to make him feel better. Pressing your lips to his again, this time less sweet. Deepening it by tugging on his shirt.

“If you don’t believe me… Let me show you just how much I love you, Nishi.” It took one look into your dark gaze for him to understand what you meant. His face flushed and you almost giggle at the sight. “I was heading back to my dorm, why don’t you come with me?”

“But, Daichi….” Nishinoya glanced back at the gym quickly before looking back to you.

“It’s okay, I can wait. Alone. In my dorm. Who knows what I’d do while you’re at practice…..”

“No fucking way, I’m coming with you” That was the first practice he missed on purpose.

#hq nishinoya #nishinoya angst #nishinoya smut #hq fluff #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yu #pls forgive me #I wanted to add more angst but it was too long already #Haikyuu #haikyuu nishinoya #Nishinoya x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut

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tokyoimagines · 4 years

Text

✧ I’ll Always Take Care Of You ✧

❀ Summary: Megumi was hurt on his last mission so you took it in your own hands to take care of him!

❀ A/N: If I mix up the names I’m sorry, I watched Jujutsu Kaisen in three different languages and the names get mixed up a lot. I’m not a native English speaker speaker so there will be mistakes (feel free to correct me)

❀ Pairings: Megumi x Reader

❀ Warnings: Grammar Error / Fluff / Blood / Bad Language

❀ Published: 11.02.2021

❀ Words: 1.742

You couldn't believe it.

Megumi just came back from a mission that Gojo gave him a few days ago but he won’t let you allow see him. He came back a few hours ago and went straight to his room, not even looking you in the eyes. You just wanted to know if he was fine but he kept blocking every social interaction.

All you knew was that the mission included a grade 1 curse while Megumi was a grade 2 sorcerer so this shit didn’t even make sense. You were really worried, not knowing what happened.

“Megumi? Can I please come in?” it’s the fifth time now that you are were standing in front of his closed door. Shifting on your feet you waited quietly until you heard his stern voice replying. “No you can’t. Now please leave me alone.” Wow that hurt. A frustrated sigh leaving your mouth. Your best friend could be so stubborn its incredible.

Deciding if you should go to your room or just try again you saw Yuuji approaching you. “Yo!” he waved at you “He won’t let you in either?”

“No, I don’t know whats going on with him. So you also tried to talk too him?” you sigh, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. Looking at Yuuji you noticed that he also seemed kind of worried. You remember how happy he was when you first met him, this boy has definitely changed a lot.

“Well he told me to fuck off.” he said laughing. “HE SAID WHAT?”

Yuuji let out a loud laugh. “I guess he’s just really exhausted, we should give him a break and try again later” Thinking about what he just said you bit your lip. Maybe he was right and Megumi was just really tired. We’re probably just annoying him right now.

“You’re probably right. If he was really hurt he would have went to Shoko. I’ll look after him again in the evening.” you said in a monotone voice.

After the sun began to set you found yourself in the kitchen, brewing some soup. “If he won’t let me in this time I’ll pour this shit over his head!” you mumbled while stirring the soup. Grabbing a bowl of the freshly made soup you made your way to Megumis room again. Hesitantly you knocked on the door again. “Megumi? I made you some food. I haven’t seen you the whole day, you must be hungry…” You waited nervously, biting your lip.

What if I just woke him up? Oh shit this punk will kill me.

“Leave the food in front of the door, I’ll get it later.”

Wait? Is this idiot serious right now?

You couldn't remember the last time you were this angry at your best friend because this shit just reached a whole different level. “You know what? I give a shit if you don’t want anyone to see you. Get the fuck ready because I’m coming in now”

“Y/N I dare y-” You stepped into his room, making his words die on his lips. He was laying in his bed while holding an ice pack to his lips.

Walking over to his bed and putting the soup on his nightstand you could make out some bloody tissue papers in his trash bin.

Now inspectating his face more closely you were able to see a big cut over his eyebrow and a dark purple eye. Now grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand with the ice pack away from his face, revealing a bruised lips.

“You could have just told me you were hurt.” you pressed out quietly. “You should go to Shoko”

“It’s really not that bad” he mumbled, pressing the ice against his lip again.

“That bloody shit in your trash says otherwise.” you pointed at his trash bin. “I’ll be right back, just don’t run away.”

“Where do you think I would be going looking like th-” again he was cut off by you leaving his room.

A few seconds later you came back bursting into his room again, in your hand a little package.

“Okay I guess I’ve got everything I need. Can you sit up? And put that damn ice to the side.”

Megumi put the ice on his nightstand and sat himself on the edge of his bed looking around his room. He looked everywhere but definitely not at you. After you positioned yourself in front of him you grabbed his chin softly, not wanting to hurt him any further.

“You look like shit” you said while getting out the bandages and the alcohol.

“Yeah Sherlock you don’t say” you chuckled at his stupid remark.

Putting some alcohol on a cotton wrap you padded it on the cut over his eyebrow. This angle gave you a chance to have a better look at his eyes. They were so dark, almost like obsidian. They were so deep, you almost got lost into them but Megumis hissing made you snap back. Ah right, the alcohol.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt that bad?”

“No, its fine. Just hurry please” You nodded, putting the cotton wrap away and grabbing a big band aid to put it over the cut. “This should stop the blending for now.”

“Turn your head a little bit, I need to see how badly your lips look.”

He turned his head to the side. His lips where mostly bruised but you could make out a little cut.

I can’t really patch that up but I can at least disinfect it.

Grabbing your alcohol and cotton again, you began to press it on his lips.

“Sorry this must hurt a lot”

Megumi kept quiet and just looked at you. His stare made you nervous.

Damn this boy and his beautiful eyes.

“I guess that’s all I can do for now. Do you have any more cuts or bruises I should take a look at?”

you immediately regretted your question.

“I actually got some more wounds, but I guess I can take care of them myself, it’s fine.” Oh no. If I do my job I do it correctly.

“Can you at least show them to me so I can see how bad they are. They should not get infected, you know right?”

Megumi let out a loud sight. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. Damn it, I wasn’t expecting it to be on his rips. I thought they were on his arms or some shit like that. So this was the reason why he had troubles getting up. Makes sense now.

You immediately became flustered by the pure sight of his upper body. Luckily Megumi was busy trying to not look you in the eyes.

I have to touch him. Oh please no.

You quietly did your job of disinfecting and cleaning up his wounds. His skin was pale and cold to your touch. Your eyes staring right at his upper body, not daring to look him in the eyes for just one second. Megumi was just as nervous as you were but after some minutes of acting like all of this didn’t happen, he was able to look at you cleaning his wounds. How careful you were to not hurt him.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly. You instinctively looked up, becoming even more red.

“Thank you for doing this.” he said, still staring into your eyes.

You hectically looked away, fixing your eyes on his almost patched up wounds again.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’ll always take care of you. No matter what.”

After you finished patching Megumi up, you packed your things together, strands of hair falling in your face. Megumi pulled his shirt over his head, being fully clothed again. The situation was awkward and even tho you really like Megumi, you wanted to get out of it.

“Guess my job is done here. Text me if you need something and I’ll come over. And eat your soup!” you said smiling at him, pointing at the soup that was still on his nightstand.

You were about to turn around, when Megumi spoke up.

“You know you could just stay here, then I don’t have to text you if I need something” he mumbled while scratching the back of his neck, not even looking you in the eyes.

You heart hammered so loud, you were scarred he would be able to hear it.

Was he serious? He wants me to stay with him over the night. This boy is joking right?

“Are your sure? Like… you want me here to stay?” you mumbled. Not really knowing what to say. You’ve gotten so nervous it’s getting ridiculous.

“Only if you want to, I thought that would be the better option” he shifted around, not knowing if what he said was wrong.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess that would be better.” you agreed by rapidly nodding, almost stumbling over your own words.

This was everything Megumi needed to hear. He lifted his blanked up to signalize you to get your ass into his bed.

Hesitantly you crawled into the bed, now laying next to him.

Megumi was laying on his back. You turned around to face him. “Can I….. you know. Can I maybe lay my hand there?” pointing at his stomach. You felt ashamed for asking to literally cuddle him, but you just couldn't help it.

Everyone can sleep better when they cuddle something, right?

Megumi looked at you, surprised that you even asked him that. “If it helps you sleep, sure.”

You slowly slit your hands up his stomach and rested it right under the wound you just patched up before. Curling into his side you breathed his scent in. He smelled so incredibly good, it gave you butterfly's in your belly.

“Am I not hurting you?” you asked, referring to the position you hand was in.

“You could never. Now go to sleep, you had a troublesome day with me acting like a completely asshole.” he chuckled, patting your head once, letting his hand rest on your back.

“I guess your right.” was all you where able to say, before slowly drifting off into a deep sleep.

Megumi watched you a bit longer, questioning how you both ended up like this. He always had liked you since he first laid his eyes on you. Seeing your sleeping form curled into him, made him realize how much he cared for you.

A/N

I hope you liked this imagine. If you know things I could do better, feel free to DM me. I always want to improve myself and my writing.

Have a nice day! ♡

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aka-ashi-keiji · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet

Akaashi Keiji

soft angst, unrequited love

a/n: this was for a school assignment lmao but i really really enjoyed writing it, even though love stories are def not my forte :(( but angst definitely is, so enjoy!!

Keiji, such a beautiful name. This was the name of someone who you held so closely to your heart, but weren’t necessarily as close to his. Despite this fact, the fondation in which your friendship was built off of will always overpower your sense of heartbreak as you realize that not all the feelings you feel for Keiji are reciprocated. The earliest memories your mind encapsulated revolved around the amount of time you spent with him as a child. Your mothers being best friends and your houses set on the same street, you each had a “built in best friend”, as your parents would like to tell you. And it was true, he was your best friend all through the enjoyable years of grades kindergarten to fifth. As well as staying through the hell bound years of grades six to twelve.

The core memories accumulated through the daily interactions between you two, stood out so brightly in your mind even years after graduation. Racing each other down hills even though those races always ended with either you or both of you with scraped knees. the scars still graced your skin and were visible under the skirt you wore to your office job day in and day out. Spending time sat in the shade provided by your house, in the backyard as your backs faced each other. On these days of your early preteen years, Keiji would bring you a new book every time, insisting that you would adore it. You nearly always did, and when you think about it now you’re not entirely sure if you truly did like these books, or if you just adored the person sitting with his back to yours as he read the same set of words.

Despite whether you adored the books or if you adored him subconsciously, this admiration soon became a conscious thought that consumed your entire being. It all started with the garden of flowers that grew near the back door. Tiger lilies, roses, tulips, all varieties of each end of the color spectrum, definitely the second most beautiful thing that took part of Keiji’s household. The first being obvious, but nonetheless beautiful. But one specific flower soon had woven its roots of beauty and simplicity into your mind. Forget-me-Nots were simple, easy to overlook, kinda like Keiji and yourself. But when examined closely, they were completely immersed with beauty. Or, that’s what he would tell you everytime he handed you a bundle of these precious plants. Every morning since fourth grade, you would walk with Keiji to school. Every single one of these walks began the same. Around when you both were first years in high school, you finally asked.

“Why do you give Forget-Me-Nots every morning?”

To which he replied with, “Maybe if I give you them enough, you’ll never forget me.”

At this point in time, you had become conscious of the romantic feelings you had for keiji, but you could see it in the way he looked at you and in the way he gazed at the girl who sat next to you in English. His eyes weren’t tainted with the same love you felt for him, his eyes only became tainted when they were focused on her.

You had read about this, the emotion of something much worse than a breakup. Unrequited love. The concept only existed in stories you read with the person who manifested this fictional feeling into your reality. But that feeling started to dull as his closeness started to become tainted just as your eyes had been for so many years. This had started your third and final year of high school, after the girl you sat next to in english had dumped him on his birthday. You were at that party, you watched it happen, You watched as she laughed with another the next day, while Keiji wept into your shoulder. You had never seen such genuine and painful tears spring from his beautiful dark blue eyes. His eyes were no longer tainted with that love, but instead flowed through to his actions.

He started to linger longer after walking you home, bringing books over ‘just because’. He stayed for dinner now on the days where he would normally be out on a date, and not just on the weekends like before. Everything that unrequited love had taken from you, was now slowly making its way back into your life. The taint that still clung to your eyes seemed to force yourself to see the same emotions through his actions. Maybe this unrequited love was finally starting to go both ways. You knew in the back of your love sick brain that you were just being hopeful, and that he most likely was just being himself and his love was still only platonic. But a heart that had been bruised so many times can only handle the bleeding inside for so long.

Your emotions had begun to spur your actions, linking your arms with his in the halls at school, legs over his lap as you both read on the couch, the grazing of your knuckles when you two walked too close together. He too, mimicked these habits. His head finding its way to your shoulder as you two studied, squeezing your hand when he sensed your unease, and even the smallest glance of his daring eyes seemed to hold yours for a second longer than would be comfortable, but it was comfortable with him. Even though the words never came from Keiji’s lips, you could’ve sworn you felt them with every move. I love you too.

One day however, your feelings became too great to live in your mind. The love that manifested in fourth grade in his backyard was finally going to be voiced and accepted into the world. This day was like any other school routine, but the excitement and nausea was the catch. You waited patiently to hear Keiji’s strong but subtle footsteps come into earshot as you waited on your porch. Once they had, your heart nearly pulled you to his side, the giddiness concerning Keiji.

“Are you alright? Are you cold, you're shaking.” He asked quietly as he began to take off his uniform blazer. Oh only if he knew. He placed it over your shoulders and began to reach back to the side of his school bag as you softly thanked him. What happened next was something so completely normal, but it still made your cheeks dust pink everytime. And today was no exception. He held out a single bundle of the precious flowers, his soft subtle smile gracing his face. You smiled back brightly as you took them, and with that you started your commute.

You nervously picked at the stems as you fought the urge to just blurt out your confession. You nearly decided against it, but you shook your head as you promised to go through with it. You owed it to yourself, after all the years of pain you unnecessarily had put yourself through. And even though you knew you had to come clean, you still feared that maybe this was just a side effect of a love sick brain and a heart damaged by an emotion you read in a teen fiction book in seventh grade. But that taint in your eyes never left and it remained glossy as ever. So as your steps fell in time with Keiji’s, you spoke.

“I like you”

He slowed down a bit and turned his head to see you staring at the gift he had given you. “What?” You both had stopped in your tracks now. Slowly but surely, your eyes connected to his and with one look, the taint had spread through your body and infected your heart.

“I like you, or actually I love you.” You stammered out, the weight that sat so heavily on your head and heart finally receded. But soon returned as the air around Keiji was filled with silence. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” You spoke again, hope filling your voice. You smiled at him as his eyes had suddenly become a shade darker.

“Oh.” One word, that’s all you got. And that one word shattered the taint that covered your heart, and bruised it once more.

“Oh?” you questioned, silently begging for more of an answer. Hoping for the answer you wanted. But you knew you wouldn’t get. His eyes still bore into yours, your smile fading along with any hope of this going the way your feelings had told you it would.

After the few seconds that felt like eons, his explanation finally fell from his lips. The words gentle, but still sharp enough to draw blood.

“Y/n look, y’know I care about you and I’ll always be your best friend but it’s just that-”

You cut him off, you knew what he was about to say and if he said it, it would’ve split your heart in two. You saying it didn’t dull the damage as much as you hoped.

“You still love her, huh?” You asked quietly, your heart pumping adrenaline into your veins, every muscle in your body working together to keep tears from falling. You didn;t want the answer even though you already knew it. You knew it from the start, you knew that fictional emotion wasn’t fiction and unfortunately, it was permanent. But you couldn’t blame yourself, you were sick, too love sick for your own good. And something you wished that book had told you, was that unrequited love could be deadly.

A single nod was all it took. And when you think about that day now, you remind yourself that you should really listen to the thoughts that stick around long enough. The thoughts that don’t deter even when you have the strongest of feelings. You didn’t know how to feel, or what to say. In all honesty, what could you do? So you did the one thing you had mastered over all these years, you hid your true feelings.

“Okay, that’s alright!” You said brightly, beginning to walk once again. His steps fell in time with yours, and he even tried to apologize, apologize for being honest. But you assured him that it was okay, that you two were okay. You couldn’t be mad, but that didn;t stop you from being broken. It was true, your friendship continued as always, never letting the side effects of unrequited love over power the strength of the love manifested in your friendship.

You both soon graduated, promising to keep in touch. And that you did. You both began to travel quite a lot after university, your jobs moving you all around the globe. But the tradition of the flowers that grew in Keiji’s backyard never ceased no matter the distance. They may have not shown up everyday, but they made their way to you on most occasions.

On one very specific day, the day your first company launched, the bouquet of the dainty little flowers made their way to your office desk. However this time, they came with a note.

“You didn’t forget me yet did you? I always knew you’d do great things. Congratulations y/n, come visit soon. I have some new books I think you’ll adore.

- K.”

You could never forget him, you couldn’t ever forget Keiji even if you wanted to. The memory of him brought you back to that emotion that only existed in the fiction books you read in seventh grade. It wasn’t fiction, it was most definitely and undeniably real. Unrequited love was bitter, but with Keiji it was also sweet. And that’s something you could never forget.

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

a/n pt. two: as an akaashi simp and stan this hurt my heart.

part two is under construction :))

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aikrus · 4 years

Text

What It Means To Be Dead (Tokoyami x Reader)

Fandom: Bnha Warnings: Mentions of Dying, depression, bullying, abuse, and strong language Words: 2k259 Requested By: Anon <3 Request: Hi I love your writing! Can I request one where Tokoyami )or anyone you'd like really,) finds a collection of old-ish diaries and letters while cleaning? The person's handwriting is very distinct and pretty (Think 1700's love letter find) but they never mention their name. As they read more of it they find newer entries where Aizawa is mentioned so they ask him about it only to find out the person who wrote them died almost 100 years ago and 'haunts' the school. (Sorry for long request) A/N: I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it!

The night had already came and claimed the land of UA for itself. Shadows overtook the courtyards, and darkness fell across the classrooms, but not everyone had retreated to the safety of their comforters which shielded them from the secrets which the black abyss held so dear.

After a draining day of learning and training, Tokoyami wanted nothing more than to go to sleep- sadly, it was his turn to clean the classroom. It was annoying and boring and he’d give anything to be able to go to sleep, but fair is fair and he wasn’t the tyrannical type.

And so, he washed the windows and wiped down the desks. He swept the floors and organized the textbooks, and he turned to put the broom back into the small closet in the corner of the classroom. With a heavy sigh, Fumikage realized he should probably tidy up the dirty, dust-filled, death trap that was called a broom closet.

Narrowing his eyes at the cobwebs, he started to knock them down with the end of the broomstick (Seriously praying to whatever god there is that no spider fell onto his feathers). The room was in worse condition on closer inspection, it looked like not a soul had thought to clean it since the school was built.

After taking the time to sweep the floors, wipe down the door and the counters, and organize the books, Tokoyami was beyond tired and ready to fall asleep in the still-somehow-dirty closet. No matter how many times he swung at the cobwebs, how many times he picked up the coats and books and papers on the floor, despite the effort he put into tidying up the smallish space, it still seemed to have a weird layer of age coating itself entirely.

The closet felt preserved in time, like the oldness it felt was not just in the items littered about, but in the very walls itself. The things it’s seen, the memories it held, something about the space simply felt... wrong.

He turned to a corner he hadn’t worked on, inwardly groaning at the amount of work he still had to do despite the time of night. With a huff, he began to organize the textbooks and pages of work sprawled around the space.

His hands fell upon and old leather book- very different in both appearance and age when compared to the marble notebooks that surrounded it. Leaning over, he saw ten to fifteen more of there journal like collections shoved deep into the corner of the room.

Tentatively, he peeled open the first book. Looking at the pages, it looked to be the diary of a girl- the beautiful handwriting looked like it belonged to someone who saw the beauty that exists within the written language, someone who stops to smell the flowers, a person who looks at sunsets and bakes goods to say they love you.

The ink that bled onto the early pages spoke of a student, a girl who wanted to be so much more, someone who wanted to save the world. He became enthralled by the speech patterns, the phrases and swirls of the letters drew him closer, enchanting his eyes to never leave the pages.

------

Soon the pages became all he could think about, even after he had to abandon the closet to race to bed. During class all he could think of was the feeling of the crisp paper under his touch. The voices of his friends seemed ugly, seemed to be missing the douse of honesty and beauty he had been exposed to, even when he was practicing all he could focus on was the experiences of the girl who wrote down all her inner thoughts.

It was like she haunted him, appearing everywhere he went. Like she poisoned him, infecting his thoughts and feelings. She became everything to him so soon, every word had him on edge, every sentence a beautiful stream of imagery that he would give nothing but to experiencing along side her, what he wouldn’t give to see the world through her eyes of love.

As the day ended, he had quiet easily convinced Sero that he should take over his night of cleaning. Sure the actual work was quiet annoying, but he would be rewarded with her sweet words, he had left the book in the corner in his rush to get back to his dorm; he regretted his oversight the moment he laid down.

“Tokoyami, wasn’t your cleaning duty last night?” Aizawa asked, his eyes lazy looking up from the papers he was grading to make contact with Fumikage’s red ones.

“Yes sir, it was. I volunteered to take over tonight as well,”

“Mhm, and is there a reason for this?” He raised his eyebrow, dragging his briefcase off the table with him.

“Cleaning helps me think,” this wasn’t a total lie, reading the journal will calm his raging thoughts of the mystery girl.

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” his teacher echoed, not having enough energy to further investigate a seemingly innocent interaction.

Tokoyami was much faster with cleaning that day, and he was even faster to sprint inside the broom closet. He grabbed the leather books and raced back to his room, already feeling the warmth her voice provided.

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

The passages started off innocent enough, complaints about school, fantasizing about a better life, just a teen writing down their emotions. It then morphed into the beauty in everything, words that didn’t release Fumikage’s eyes until they were tearing up from dryness.

Then, things took a darker turn. Dark thoughts disguised in poems, things others have said to her, representation of her pain in drawings scattered throughout the book. The beautiful world- though still majestic in its own way- turned dark and twisted.

It was painful to read, and yet he couldn’t look away. It was like the book became a part of him- no. It was like he became a part of the book, nothing more than the cracked parchment and spilled ink. It was dehumanizing, but he wouldn’t change his position for anything in the world.

His bed was taken over by the old pages, dating back over two hundred years ago. The writer was in the post-quirk awakening. The world had just discovered the glowing child right before she was born. She was one of the first quirk holders in the world- one of the first one hundred Japanese citizens to have a quirk.

The journals started when she was ten- though that book was the fifth one he read. After that discovery, he categorized them in chronological order to read along with the flow of time. She wrote of the manifestation of her quirk- her parents had been struck with terror when their daughter walked through the wall of their living room to get into her bedroom.

That was the first moment she realized how different she is. Her life never seemed to go back to the way it was before, not even after the initial shock of what she could do faded from her parents; because, there would always be a new shock, a new ability, and no one was prepared to help her.

He realized, reading more about how the quirkless treated her, that her life would have been much different is she had lived in his time. Hearing the slurs and bullying they put her through, he wishes she could see how much the world has changed- would she be happy or sad that her bully's became the minority and were mocked in their normal-ness or if she would be ashamed of the people like her.

He was very satisfied that the people who made her life so awful were getting a taste of their own medicine, but he did wonder if that made him a bad person. Tokoyami figures that it really didn’t matter, she was gone so her opinion would never be known.

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

“Death didn’t feel like I thought it would. Surprisingly, it was reminiscent of when I use my quirk to posses things or people. My body was there, on the floor, but I was floating above it. Much like I am when I leave my body before finding my target. The cold was instantly recognizable- like an abyss with no end.

The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the lack of body to return to, though I can enter it, it acts as an object. While I cannot move it, I can see out of it. It’s therapeutic in a way. Really, this must have been the best case scenario- I could see how everyone reacts, see who really cares about me.

It was hard at first, seeing all theses people, who I believed were simply pretending to care, braking down behind closed doors. It was only my sister- whom held no quirk- that cared. She did everything she could to make my funeral how I wanted it, and she preserved my bedroom the way I liked it. That was a nice gesture, it truly was.

Now my life has come to an end- my body buried under ground, never to be seen again- I can’t help but wonder what comes next. How long will I be held in this mortal world? Will others be like me, or will I be forced to live alone in the agonizing realization that comes with immortality? I guess I’ll simply have to wait and see,”

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

He had fallen asleep after reading the last passage in the ninth book- where she described how she stayed a student at UA even after death. The names she referenced had been lost in time- Pro-heroes that have long been dead and are now another name on the Hero Memorial wall.

She had possessed her home room teacher and walked to the headmaster- there she said what had happened. Her headmaster agreed to keep her on as a student, but only under the condition that she wouldn’t unnecessarily possess an unknowing student. It was fair- annoying but fair. They gave her her old desk and she worked along side everyone. When he woke up, the book had moved on its own.

There was a page opened- an elegant scipt sprawllled at the top but had been smuged since it was written- the only elligable part following what could be assumed to be a name: Phatom-- The Ghost Hero. The script was familiar, but it wasn’t the handwriting the rest of the journal was written in. Beneath it was a drawing of a girl- a girl more beautiful than anyone Fumikage had ever seen. It was a realistic depiction and it looked modern- it was only with that realization which led Tokoyomi to realize this journal wasn’t one he had seen before. Flipping through it, he hadn’t even noticed its sudden appearance. It was the newest one of them all- spanning for the last decade. He leaned back in his bed and began,

So I guess it’s been a while huh? Here are some general updates: Shouta from class 2-A is an idiot but I guess he’s kinda cute. We picked out hero names today, I wanted to just keep my name but he dubbed me Phantom.. I called him Eraserhead in return. I hope it sticks.

I’ve graduated from UA more than six times now- but I kinda like it. I do some professional hero work- especially info recall- but I’m worried about how the public will react to a ghost. It would definitely fuck with some peoples religious views.

It’s better this way. I’ve also decided to distance myself from Shinso- she and I got along great, but her twin brother has been acting weirdly around me for a while. His quirk is amazing, but I’ve seen plenty of unstable students pass through these halls and I know enough to keep my distance. Shouta doesn’t seem to agree- neither does Hizashi. I guess only time will tell.

As for manifesting my physical form- it’s a lot harder than I had hoped. I can become visual for three active minutes or ten minutes with no moving. I’m still not touchable, but I hope that will change with time. That’s all for now- I’ll try to check in soon.

He shook his head- surely those names must be common, but she was in UA and only so many coincidences can happen at one time. He wonders how she was now. Mostly, he wonders if she’s still at UA. They hadn’t announced her as a student, so was she a pro hero now?

Was it weird to still be in the body of a sixteen year old? There were so many issues with immortality- he wondered how she coped with it. These questions abused him throughout the morning. He thought of how lonely she must be, how it must be so awful to be all by herself.

He wondered why he cared so much- why had he developed such a strong scene of attachement to this girl? The fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw the drawing of the girl had taken up his entire mind- he needed to know more.

As soon as he entered his familiar class room he marched straight up to his teachers desk with passion in his eyes- “Professor, can we talk after class? I have some questions I’d like to ask you,”

Aizawa glarred at the corner of the room, an annoyed frown tugging at his lips. This was gonna be a long day.

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

A/N

Sorry for dropping off the planet everyone! This has been in the drafts for a long time and finally gets to see the light of day. I’ve had some mental health issues (not related to this story don’t worry) and am working on myself. I fully intend to finish the Christmas countdown I committed to and this account is still active, but this will remain on the back burner until I am well on my way to recovery. Requests will remain open for the time being and I will continue to make progress. Thank you for the lovely anon’s in my inbox with constant support and requests, I appreciate all of you. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed this work <3

#boku no hero #boku no hero academia #My Hero #my hero academia #tokoyami fumikage #bnha fumikage #tokoyami x reader #tokoyamifumikage #fumikage x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha x reader #tokoyami fluff

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rouiyan · 4 years

Text

𝘗𝘜𝘓𝘓 𝘔𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 [ 𝘯.𝘫𝘮 ]

⧏ jaemin’s installment of the undone at twenty-one collective ⧐

synopsis: one estranged at the hands of love and the other tethered to his reputation. it's no wonder they find solace within each other.

✧ bartender!na jaemin x (fem.) reader (ft. ex!mark) ✧ college au, almost fwb au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 15.5k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurities, anxiety attacks, mentions of sex (no explicit smut, as per usual)

✧ author’s note — i'm so sorry to do this to you guys on a weekly, i swear, dropping double digit k fics is not normal and has definitely fucked with my sleep schedule ++ i hit 127 followers on thursday! for a total of four minutes but it was cool while it lasted! thank you!

maybe it all started when na jaemin got the job at the bar. it certainly didn't suit him, not the sweet boy he was, keyword on 'was.' he'd taken a course on bartending over the summer between senior year high school and his first year of college, just for fun until he realized he could actually use his license to get a job that paid slightly above minimum wage. maybe, it all started when he'd seen a classmate at the bar, a pretty girl at that, who'd smiled in a way that could only be classified as flirtatiously. maybe that's what had jaemin winking back, for the first time in his life. maybe that's what got him laid later that night. and maybe that's how he started to identify as more of a fuckboy than a heartthrob. it was a far out though new feeling, he thought. high school jaemin could never, he thought.

but maybe it all started to come to an end when you walked into the bar for the fourth time that week, eyes rimmed red and breath already tinged with alcohol. you ordered a draft beer from him, something light to keep you slightly buzzed but not completely knocked out. the hands of the clock were nearing two in the morning and the bar, especially the area of the counter he was tending, was beginning to empty out. jaemin struck conversation once you were the only one left and seven minutes before his shift ended.

he realizes, again, that you have zero recollection of him though he'd also struck conversation for the three nights before.

"how was your day, miss?"

you look up, head propped on your right hand, hand propped up with your elbow. "me?" slightly wary, you sit upright in front of the guy behind the counter. his smile never falters when he nods. you blink twice before remembering to respond, "i- no, i mean, today was okay," you slouch back into yourself, "a little less than okay, actually." the bartender's eyes widen in consideration, remembering that you had stopped at just 'okay' for the past days he'd asked you. he takes from this to offer politely, "do you mind if i ask what happened?"

your eyes are focused on the sink behind him, distractedly. almost forgetting to reply, you gather your thoughts by clearing your throat and pondering for a few moments before beginning to speak, hesitantly, "well it's like when you just know something bad's gonna happen, and you know for awhile. then it does happen and you don't get to be surprised or shocked because you already knew. so all you're left to feel is just," you heave a sigh, "sadness, or maybe even regret."

the metal nametag pinned to his chest glints in the lights above as he moves forward to place his elbows on the counter, leaning casually. you notice it to spell out 'jaemin' and a part of your subconsciousness is trying to make you remember that you know this guy. you know him from school, from rumors, from your gossiping friends, you know him from the bar even. but all you're able to process is that he is one hell of a good-looking specimen.

jaemin's eyes glint in the light as well when he poorly guesses, "did bad on a test? late homework assignment?" laughing and completely missing the fact that this 'stranger' had correctly assumed you to be a college student, you shake your head, "if it were either of those, i'd be awfully dramatic for coming to a bar and drinking my days away instead of studying." he's laughing as well and you can't help but think that his smile, straight pearly whites and all, is probably the most welcoming sight your eyes have laid upon the whole day. picking the conversation back up, you decide that it probably wouldn't do much harm to indulge jaemin in the latest and breaking news of your life. "actually, i was dumped today."

he sucks in a long breath in understanding, licking his lips, "so, a bad breakup. those aren't too fun." agreeing, you shake your head. the atmosphere is good-natured when you quip, "would it be worse to say that it was the eighth time too?" jaemin's brows shoot up in surprise and he pushes himself off his elbows, shifting his weight onto his hands. "eighth? as in eighth breakup or eighth time you've been dumped?" a chuckle escapes your complexion, giving way to how vulnerable you were feeling, vulnerable to a laughable extent. your eyes are cast downward when you respond, "the second."

jaemin pries in a way that doesn't seem like prying, you wonder how he does so. "care to share?" it's possible his range of bartender-ly duties extends to the likes of a therapist, "i mean, i don't see why not." you quirk your lips, the only thought coursing through your mind consisting of how the bridge of his nose was so carefully structured and how oversharing with this man didn't seem so much of a bad idea. you were, after all, far too caught up in your drunken stupor to think anything otherwise.

"let's see, i was ghosted by my first boyfriend in ninth grade, cheated on by my second, figured out that my third was only dating me for a bet, fourth just straight up stopped liking me, fifth lied to me about his age, objectified by my sixth, thought i was dating my seventh but turns out he forgot he asked me out, and my eighth...well, that one's a bit different."

he's back on his elbows, in intriguement and also due to the new song that began to play from the speakers above, louder than the last, "how so?" you're afraid the feelings are going to pour back within your forefront thoughts so you keep your answer short, "we dated for two years."

"and?"

you're quiet for a few moments. those moments are taken to mull over the exact reasonings behind your shitty day, almost as if you had forgotten. blinking slowly, the dryness of your contact lenses becoming apparent, you respond hesitantly, "and, he said he didn't see a future with me. that i could only ever be his first love."

jaemin seems to mull over this as well, "and did you see a future with him?"

you haven't looked up at him in a while, instead, focusing your sights on the way you've let your acrylics grow out far too long, how the skin around your nails is peeling, and how your palms are also creased with dry lines. using the same hand to lift the bottle from its handle, you toss the rest of its contents down your throat, swallowing in one motion. setting it back down, tongue grazing over your lips to catch the spilt extras, you look jaemin in the eye.

"yeah," you move to collect your things, "i guess i did." you pay. you take your leave.

he sees you again the following day, for the fifth time in that single week and he's led to wonder if there is a reason you seem frequent this one bar. the atmosphere possibly, the customer service maybe, or even him, though he's doubtful.

this time you're accompanied by two friends, one he knows to be jeno's best friend, eunmi, and the other, the crush of that same friend, jaein. jaemin's known eunmi for as long as jeno has, since the beginning of high school. jaemin also knows that eunmi, as of the late, doesn't like himself all that much. he figures it has something to do with the bit of a reputation his name now carries.

jaemin thinks the girls are by your side for emotional support. perhaps, today proved even shittier than yesterday, but he's thwarted a few moments after when the three of you seem to be lost in the depths of interesting conversation, light-hearted laughter, and glasses that can't seem to fill themselves as fast as they empty into your stomachs, except for jaein, that is, but especially for you.

it's 12:48 in the morning when he's thrown off guard for the first time that night, in the midst of whipping up a whiskey for the grumpy man down the counter, eunmi falls asleep, literal in the sense that she really does fall and would've completely sagged into the ground if the table had not been in gravity's way. jaemin watches as jaein lifts the poor girl's head off the surface, revealing an angry red splotch, and transfers eunmi's weight onto her lap.

he's thrown off guard for a second time at 1:22, watching you stand straight from your seat, swaying a tad bit, but brows creased in strong will and determination. you're walking towards him, steps that would be quick if only you were even mildly aware of sidestepping the paths of others. you pant as you reach the table, head feeling a little too hot and too heavy to aid in clear thinking. squinting at him, though you were but a few feet away, "your name. what's your name again?"

jaemin repeats the actions you'd done yesterday, slightly wary in expression and checking his posture, "me?" you don't reply but continue to scrutinize the way he looks. he supposes that's just as much of an answer, "it's jaemin, i believe we talked yesterday." your mouth parts in recognition and moves as if to form a word or two in response. jaemin watches as it opens and closes again and, even after much deliberation, the only thing you can find to say is, "well, you're fucking hot."

"oh-"

"shit, didn't mean to say that aloud." your lips smack in embarrassment, shifting your weight to your left foot. your mind is yelling at you to sober up, to save your face.

a smile adorns the man's features as he bemusedly remarks, "i'm sure you didn't." there's a silence that hangs between the two of you, and you're on the cusp of excusing yourself from further embarrassment when jaemin blurts out, "if it helps, i think you're fucking hot too." it might just be the alcohol in your system that's making the heat rise in your countenance but you swear you blush, and you never blush!

fingering the lobe of your right ear, you fumble with your thoughts until settling on a quiet, "thanks." jaemin busies himself with swiping a rag across the counter, unaware of the awkwardness on your end. looking up, he offers, "would you like a drink?" nodding, you take a seat at the bar in front of him, eyes slipping back to the girls for a split second, only to see jaein on her phone and eunmi still asleep. returning your sights, you're met with a slight humor traced in jaemin's expression, "what?"

he lets out the smallest of chuckles, mouth moving but lacking words, sentences starting but never ending, until he finally makes himself clear. "you- would you mind ordering a drink then?" your hand comes up, as if you had a point to make, but returns into your lap as you realize you'd never elaborated. "oh," your hand resurfaces to massage your temples, "same as yesterday then."

jaemin doubts you even remembered what you'd gotten yesterday but goes on to fill a bottle of beer from the kegs behind him. you're staring at his back in wonderment at how lackluster in...social interactions you'd become, how lackluster in flirting you were. you guess two years of being cuffed would render anyone a little rusty. hell, it wasn't as if you were keen on flirting with every hot guy you saw but jaemin, not that you remember much, gave off the right feeling after a wrong relationship. that was surely a green light, right?

"here," he slides it across the counter with a wink, entirely out of habit. you wince at that, "ew no, don't do that around me, i'm not one of your fuckbuddies." retying his black waist apron, he replies with a, "right, you're not." he pulls a neat bow in place and sets his hands back on the counter, there's a lilt to his voice when he speaks, "but, if you ever feel like you need-"

you wave him off, "i'm good, thanks for the offer though."

he watches you chug the draft beer. nodding, he replies under his breath, more to himself than anything, "i see." you finish the bottle in no time but it looks as if you were to vomit, or pass out, or maybe even black out, or all three at once. jaemin really does not mean to spur your flirtatious gene as much as his own but seeing you like this he offers, "it's on the house." you're definitely surprised for a good half of a second but in the other half, you drunkenly lean across the table, so far so that jaemin's nose is but a few inches away from yours.

something in jaemin stirs. the stench of your breath, your hardened eyes, the delicate lines of your lips. jaemin finds that it isn't lust that rumbles beneath his carefully built expression. and though it might as well be some form of pity, he doesn't hesitate to take your phone from you when you ask, "can i have your number?" he doesn't mind the smile that graces your face as you take your phone back, as you turn around to head back with your friends, not even in the right mind to say a goodbye, and even as you exclaim, rather loudly, to jaein, "i got his number," a smile of his own is quick to light up his face. but na jaemin hides his silly smile and even himself a little later when jeno appears to drive the three of you home. he even goes so far as to hide the smile and the meanings behind the smile from himself, afraid that he'd uncover something that was very un-bartender-ly of him to feel for a customer. at least, that's what happens before he ends his shift.

when you first wake up, it's at the sound of the door of your room clicking shut. jaein, you suppose, you'll thank her later. the ceiling is oddly comforting after a week that just didn’t start well, go well, end well. love isn’t your forte, loving yourself, loving others, anything to do with love. you supposed that getting dumped the seventh time would have made that quite obvious but you just had to throw yourself out there again, just to make sure. you fall once again to sleep that night with nothing on your mind other than the thought that you might as well be single for the rest of your life.

but you wake up in the love, not of a lover per se, but of a best friend. the post-it note on your bedside reads, text me when you wake up!, and the smile that lifts your face is instantaneous. jaein has never failed to care for you, despite being almost a year younger, and in that way and many others, you feel indebted to her.

you fail to recall any of the events of the night prior, though if anything horrendous happened you knew jaein would be more delighted to share. you stumble across your phone somewhere in the sheets after searching aimlessly and you decide that making a call would perhaps be more thoughtful than a measly text. but as you scroll through the names in your phone, upset that you didn't have jaein's contact pinned in your favorites, you stop, well, your heart stops because right below her contact is listed na jaemin.

you are two thoughts away from crossing over to tap the shoulder of the girl a little ways in front of you, her silhouette a great deal similar to jaein's, when a hand is placed on your own shoulder. you don't have a chance to turn and see who it is because that hand has traveled a little ways across your front, latching from one shoulder to another and bringing your body flush with his. you tilt your head to get a glance, only to find jaemin smiling down at you, the strobe lights glaring a brief red across his features. "been avoiding me?"

yeah no shit you've been avoiding him, suddenly nowhere to be found at the bar you used to appear at every single day of the week. and though the two of you attended the same college, you made extra sure to-

"jeno told me eunmi asked him for my lecture schedule for you, wonder why." a smirk grazes his lips, playfully. he’s grinding on your ass now, slow compared to the music blasting from overhead. taking your shoulder in his hands, he spins you to face him, "why are you avoiding me? tell me." jaemin places a hand on the curve of your neck, brings you closer to him, either so that he could hear your response better or because of whatever lust was running through his eyes. somehow, even with the minuscule amount of alcohol in your system, you can’t bring yourself to mind that he’s looking at you like some starved animal.

"what do you want, jaemin?" he doesn't hesitate to show you, a lazy kissed pressed to your lips before leaning in towards your ear, "i want you in my bed."

no objections are made when the arm around your shoulder tightens its hold, so as not to loose you in such a crowd. nothing is said in opposition when he ushers you towards the stairwell, brushing past people left and right. no sign of reluctance is apparent when you cross the threshold of his room, shutting the door behind you. and not a trace of hesitance is found as you find a spot beside the man who's already placing a strand of wide kisses onto your neck.

"what'd you say about not being one of my fuckbuddies the other day?"

"well," you hastily move to straddle him, allowing him to a wider expanse of your chest, "i was drunk, fuck whatever i said." you lean back for the slightest of seconds to catch his expression, lust lined his eyes. certainly, you felt like one of his fuckbuddies now but maybe this is what you need, a distraction. just one thing in your life, one time, one moment in time where it wasn't so frustratingly shoved up in your face that your world, your one love, hadn't been torn down right before your eyes. maybe kissing jaemin with such raw desire would finally give you the reigns over your goddamned emotions. his lips on your collarbone, tracing down slower and slower onto your breasts, his hands guiding you lower and lower into his bed, it felt exhilarating. in that one second, when his fingers moved to the hem of your dress, eyes shifting to meet yours in question, you nod fervently because really, you want to let him in, you feel safe letting him in.

but it only lasts for that one second because the door is burst open in the next, and a tipsy man and a wasted woman are storming on inside, eyes raking the place until they land on you and yours land on theirs, on his. mark lee. it's mark lee's eyes and as you take in the sight of the rest of him, the familiar him, and the girl by his side, suddenly nothing has ever felt more wrong. jaemin's lips, his hard on pressing against your core, nothing has ever felt more wrong when mark lee is staring right at you. why is it that you feel like you've cheated on him?

he leaves, pulling the woman behind him.

the party is alive, it's at its height, it's roaring and it's ravaging fun. the party is in full swing yet, for once, you're not partaking in it. "are you okay? do you need some water?" you lick your lips and decide, "some water would be nice, thank you." jaemin leaves the room, door clicking shut behind him and signaling your immediate breakdown.

a shudder passes your lips, reverberates down your spine, curls your toes. you draw into yourself, bringing with you jaemin's blankets on which you were sat. there is nothing more that leaks from your countenance than bouts of undisturbed anxiety that you let wrack your walls of understanding and awareness. you don't bother to fight back with distractions, no alcohol this time, no quick fucks, nothing to ease the weight that settles in your gut, presses down your heart and blurs the visions of jaemin's room.

he returns in seven minutes, promptly enough, for you're just about to wither in the confines of loneliness. the blankets are pulled taut around your figure and your head is in between your knees, mind flitting between images of mark and images of the darkness that threatens to envelop you whole. jaemin places the cup of warm water on the nightstand and dips the bed to your right though you barely register his presence until his hand begins kneading lines down your back.

the feeling returns. the one you know all too well by now. the one where the skin on your forehead feels too tight from being scrunched in frustration for too long, when your brain feels like it doesn't belong in your skull, when you feel ruptures in your heart, aches in your soul, as if you were to combust if you so much as moved in the slightest. your ragged breaths echo in your head, over and over, as if to remind you that you aren't okay, that nothing is real, that the only thing keeping you alive are your breaths, the only thing between life and death.

your breaths are also what grounds you, focusing on the in and out, the way the air fills your lungs, the way it exits. your hands begin to mellow their shake and you begin to gain some semblance of your being. you feel that jaemin is all around you. he's everything you smell, his breaths are all you hear, his lean body and arms are all you feel, and though you can't see him, you know he's there.

he's there when you turn in his embrace, looking up at him with eyes that tell age-long tales of hurt from delivering too much passion whilst receiving near to none. he's there when you wrap your arms around him, head tucking into his chest. he's there when your breaths even and he's there when you tell him you can't fall asleep.

jaemin hands you a set of his clothes, a light shirt and sweatpants, and ushers you gently into the bathroom. you change without looking in the mirror, afraid of what you'll see. he tugs you by the hand, once you're out, to the car. you only question him thirty minutes into the ride, "where are we going?"

he doesn't quite answer you, "if i'm right, we should be just in time." scrunching your nose in the darkness, "just in time for…?"

it's then that he turns into a dim parking lot and suddenly everything becomes clear when the wide screen comes into view, "jaemin...you 50's romanticist." the time is almost four in the morning, you didn't know the local drive-in theater had screenings that early and you're surprised that the man in the driver's seat knows. he offers you a hand and you take it, absentmindedly.

the movie is interesting enough to keep your begrudging thoughts away until an hour or so passes and you're beginning to teeter from exhaustion. before you have a chance to pass out, jaemin gives your fingers a little squeeze, alerting you, and then slowly tugging you over the middle console of his car and into his lap while lowering his seat. again, you comply absentmindedly, you're in no mindset to be complaining.

straddling him for the second time that night, you sigh into his chest. your eyes are fluttering closed when you begin to trace back the moments that brought you to this mess in the first place, the events that led to you in na jaemin's lap, the boy renowned in bed. you're a conscious thought away from voicing aloud your hatred of love. fucking love.

the prospect of love is addicting to you, like a drug in many more ways than one. you want to get lost in someone's eyes, you want to swim in the embrace of your other half, you want to be able to romanticize every aspect of your life, to be able to attribute your everything to one single person who would do the exact same for you. you can't part with the thought that love isn't for you.

and you know that there really are people who live just fine being single, people who don't feel the need to share their every joy and letdown with a special someone, people who feel enough just being in their own company. you know that yet, you're fully convinced you just aren't one of those people. because no matter how hard you want to say that getting left in the dust for the eighth time became the turning point in this endless chase, you can't see yourself ever stopping. there is not a single part of you that wishes to stop.

your breaths are shallow and brimmed with sobs as you drift into rest. above all that's been said, the least you can admit is that love is only a feeling. just like any other.

✧ ONE (01) YEAR AGO

"mark, what the fuck, we never go on actual dates." you complain, though you really don't mind all that much. the car pulls into a parking spot in front of the library, "and who's to say study dates aren't actual dates?" he opens the door for you and you roll your eyes graciously.

the two of you take your usual spots, the two at the end of the long row in the central area. it's halfway secluded, one side shoved against the wall, but still enough in the open to keep you guys from entirely ditching school work and talking until shushed by a librarian.

he's about to say something when a librarian appears just around the corner, pushing a cart of books. so instead, mark takes a piece of lined paper from his notebook, gently ripping it at the edge, taking his pen out and writing a line and passing the note to you. i'll take you somewhere nice next time. sorry babe, i just happened to have a lot of work today.

you press your lips together, eyeing the man that was eyeing you back, okay, my love. you pass it back, shooting him the most playful of smiles. he writes quickly and when he slides the paper back to you, you read his words quickly. sure thing, my world.

you giggle, the sound eliciting a glare from the stressed schoolmate beside you. quickly you jot down the words you've been wanting to say to him. fine by me, my future. you shuffle the paper towards the man across from you, unwilling to hide yet another smile that spreads across your face. you watch as mark takes the paper in his hands, skims the words you've carefully penned and then, he puts it away, tucks it into the front of his backpack. you smile fondly at him for safekeeping the paper, thinking he'd want to keep it as a little memento, a token of your love for him.

perhaps you should've thought a little more about it, the action, because in that moment it never occurred to you that he only put it away because he didn't want to respond, he had nothing in his heart that he could say to top that, and he most certainly did not see you as anything more, much less his future.

that lined piece of paper has long been discarded by now, in the most literal and figurative sense. mark could chalk it up to the possibility that it was just the right person at the wrong time but he knows there's absolutely nothing wrong with the time. college was going to zip by quickly for the two of you, you guys could move in together maybe, tell each other about your new jobs, every pay raise you got, and when you guys begin to settle down, a house would be bought and a ring would be proposed, and kids and old age would follow. somehow, mark can't help but acknowledge the fact that it simply was the wrong person at the right time. deep down, he knows it's always been that way for him. not for you. and he could only hope to turn back time and tell you a little sooner, maybe lessen the pain he knew he was to eventually inflict upon you. two years was two years too long. mark’s a nice guy and the weight of being your eighth breakup had a tough hold on him, it really did.

✧ PRESENT

you lift your feet up onto the other side of the booth, back against the window and your arrangement of your textbooks and computer to your left. jaein, studious as ever, looks up at you for a brief moment, "break? already?"

it's only been thirty minutes since the two of you arrived with the set intentions to study. "yup, already." you sigh, with everything going on, it's hard to pay attention to just one thing. especially something that seems so insignificant in the whole scheme of things. "y/n, are you getting enough sleep these days?"

you look over at her, her hair swept into a small ponytail, eyes holding the stars. jaein had her own fair share of problems, especially when it came to boys, but she never halted to care for herself. you wish you could be like her. "enough, yeah i'm getting enough." she puts down her pen, wrinkling her nose, "well then, make sure to get more than enough, yeah?" you only nod in response.

jaein's eyes rome until they settle upon a girl a few tables down, also studying. she cocks her head in inquisition, "hey, isn't that minyoung?" you wait for jaein to look away before you take a peek behind you, not wanting to seem conspicuous. you know her, you share some of your professors with her, you see her almost everyday, but you've never been riled up by just her presence being in the same room as yours. you look back at jaein, "yeah, that's minyoung."

"minyoung as in the girl that jaemin's datin-"

"they're not dating," you intercept. sighing in distaste, you follow up to cover your evident aversion of the girl, "just fucking around." jaein only nods, eyes wide in worry.

a few minutes pass and you're already sinking back into your workload when she speaks, "does it bother you? that they- they're fucking around?" now, you're sinking into yourself because you really have no idea what you're supposed to be feeling, how you're supposed to be feeling, or even if you're supposed to be feeling anything for this boy who you know little to nothing about.

but you guess it's because of what you do know about him that throws you off. na jaemin, the campus fuckboy, heart throb, and whatever other name that makes his image sound as vile as it is enticing. in some other universe, you're sure to have already let him eat you out over the course of the few weeks you've known him but somehow, you're glad that you reside in the universe where your head seems to be more securely fastened above your heart. you lick your lips in consideration but nothing comes to mind.

it's frustrating because as much as you hate to admit it, na jaemin makes you feel something. he stirs up something within you, something that hasn't been there in a long time. maybe not since your first crush or when mark first asked you out or even in the heights of your relationship with him when you felt like you could feel nothing more than love for the wretched boy.

you tell her, "it bothers me. it shouldn't, but it does." because though you don't know why. why you're feeling so strongly, or feeling at all, for a man so far from what you need after the end of a long-winded and committed relationship. you don't know why you even care, if anything, him fucking around with a handful of girls served even more as a sign for you to just stay away. getting invested in his small, thoughtful actions and his intense, loving stares is just asking for a ninth breakup. you don't know why but the idea of him being in bed with another girl, bothers you. it shouldn't, but it does.

jaemin isn't ever invited to these types of outings. usually, on a weeks basis, he's invited to quite the number of houses instead. houses of girls and houses that housed parties. never a restaurant, and never in the middle of the day. jeno had let that he was invited because eunmi had some 'investigation' to do, so naturally, he'd expect you to be there as well. turns out this investigation was set up for himself only, seeing as he was now sitting at the far edge of the table, to the left of renjun, whom he had never personally met, and across eunmi, who seems to spend most the time scrutinizing him instead of eating.

the purpose of his presence is made clear as eunmi sits up straight, gaze still fixed on him, and asks straight to the point, "what do you want with y/n?"

jaemin places his fork down calmly but his voice is anything but that, surprised, "i- what do i- what do you mean?" his hands are folded in his lap now, he wonders if this was the reason you didn't come, he wonders if eunmi asked him to come just to interrogate him in front of all your friends. she's still staring at him and though he's taller, he feels a great deal smaller when everyone's eyes are turned to him. hell, even jeno stopped ogling at jaein to give his attention to the scene on the other side of him.

he clears his throat and reiterates, now with a sense of the atmosphere, "what do you mean?" jaemin blinks rapidly as eunmi heaves a sigh, placing two folded hands on the table and pushing her point to light, "why are you messing with her? you wanna fuck her? you know she's off limits for you." jaemin asks the two question he knows he'll end up regretting, he can't help the spite that curls at the edge of his mind for the girl who so fervently despises him, "why is she off limits for me, huh? got something against me?"

"yeah, yeah i do. you go around sleeping with every other girl you see, you, jaemin, you are the last thing she needs right now."

"who are you to decide what she needs-"

"i'm just looking out for her, okay? and, shit, i know she has every right to, i don't know, fuck around with you too, but i can't sit here and watch as she falls for someone that doesn't give two shits about how she feels."

jaemin finds that he has nothing to say. the words echo around in his head, fall for someone, fall for him. he stares down at his food, takes a sip of his water, wipes his clammy hands on a napkin. when he looks up again, eunmi's expression is a tenfold softer than it was before.

"i'm sorry, jaem. it's just- i don't trust you anymore. you've changed a lot since, since…high school." jaemin only nods.

revolutions are held within him as he drives home that day. jaemin notes that the feelings are nothing new, he thinks it has something to do with the little churns in his stomach on the fifth night of your week of 'get drunk, get wasted.' he doesn't bother to suppress the feelings this time, it's been too long, he thinks.

it's been too long since he's liked someone for who they really are instead of just their pussy, he thinks. he, and his loving self, welcomes the feeling with open arms. it's been years since the giddy persona of a lovesick jaemin resurfaced. he's glad it's because of you.

"jaemin, hey, do you need anything?" you remove your eyes from your computer screen for the first time in a few hours, you barely register the strain when his voice is quick to respond from the other end of the line, "can you come down? i'm outside, got a lil something for you." eyes almost ejecting out of their sockets, you quickly mutter a, "sure, i'll be down in two," before hanging up, slamming your computer shut, throwing on a hoodie over your lazy study-day outfit, and grabbing your keys after almost forgetting them entirely.

straightening down the stray strands of your hair as you tread down the steps of the stairwell, you take a minute to breathe, a minute to yourself, before exiting the building. the sky is dark, the time being a little after dinner, but the lamplight that falls onto the man's face makes your heart swoon at the sight. dangerous territory.

"hey," you voice as he meets you in the middle. "what are you-"

"here," he holds out a teddy bear, medium in size, brown and fuzzy. you take it from him graciously and he tucks his hands into his jeans pocket, "i was just-i just thought that you'd...yeah." chuckling, you notice the hues of warmth rise in his cheeks. "wow, didn't think you were one to blush." he's laughing as well, from the embarrassment, hand coming up to cover his cheeks, to cover his smile, his stupid smile.

his smile never falters when he asks, "may i ask you something?" you nod, unassumingly.

"can i take you out on a date? next week maybe?"

breathless and eyes sparkling, you look up at him as if he were the one who put the sparkles in your eyes. he really was. now, it's you that blushes, hands coming up to cover your own cheeks, "yeah, i'd- i would like that." you almost want to coo at him when you see the relief that washes over his expression.

"you would?"

"yes, jaemin," you give a breathy laugh, "i'd like that very much."

fucking love. that one stupid feeling that could get you so emotionally intoxicated in ways no substance ever could. the kind of love that made you want to scream into the void, to exclaim your sheer and utter elatedness to the world. fucking love that you could never not chase, especially if it was jaemin.

mark never took pictures of you. not that you expected him to by default, he just never did. jaemin, however, shows up right outside your dorms, a camera hanging down from his neck. you can't say it doesn't charm your heart.

"what's that for?" you eye the camera as you slip into the passenger seat. you already know, you just love it when he says, "for you, of course." his hand holds yours as he drives and it stays that way until the two of you arrive.

the botanical gardens are, for the most part, empty on the weekdays, working wonderfully in your favor as jaemin leads you, also by the hand, through the forests of greenery, the air so crisp that it fills your mind with clarity after a week of muddled studying. jaemin compares you to the likes of several flowers, all of which he implores for you to pose next to for a picture. he especially finds the daphne odora, the winter flowering of daphnes, to hold the highest esteem in regards to you. you have not the slightest idea why.

the two of you are strolling under the glass-covered conservatory when light conversation turns heavy. confusion lines your face as you look over at him, "jaem?"

"yes?" he takes an extra step or two to match your pace. you stare at his feet as you speak, "what's...what's different about me?"

"what do you mean by that?" hesitance sits in your every word, "you don't treat me like...one of them, like one of you're fuckbuddies."

"because you're not," he replies simply. in all honesty, there's something you're looking for, something you just need to know, though you are lost in how to phrase it. shaking your head a bit, to wrack the insides for an answer, you end up regurgitating the same question, "yeah but, what makes me different?"

jaemin doesn't seem to mind and answers to his best ability, "well, for one, we're not fucking. and then there's the fact that i- that…" he trails off, the words are right there at the tip of his tongue, waiting to jump out at you, to allow you to revel in his love. he doesn't dare voice them aloud, the threat of rejection is stemming and rooting itself in his bloodstream. unaware, you urge him on, "that…"

your date is lost in thought, eyes seeming to be particularly interested in a bloom of camellias. you suppose they're plenty interesting but you wonder how he'd lost the interest in speaking with you so quickly. was it something that you said? maybe asking him so upfront like that wasn't the best choice. jaemin, meanwhile, is panicking. sure, the camellias look beautiful but the millions of thoughts that course through his mind are each occupying too much space for his mouth to actually form a string of words that make coherent sense.

jaemin finally, finally settles on something to say, just as the two of you are rounding upon the exit. he subtly wishes he'd gotten a picture of you by the camellias. turning his sights back in your direction, he verbalizes, "are you going home for winter break?"

lips pursed, you shake your head, "no, i was just planning on staying at school-"

"do you wanna come with me? back home?"

you stop in your tracks. jaemin walks on until the hand that's carrying yours is tugged to a stop. he looks back at you and sees the way you gulp, the way you refuse to return his gaze. he makes his way back to you, closing the distance he's created. jaemin is a few seconds, a few thoughts, away from recollecting his propositions with a 'nevermind' and a quick brush of a hand but you beat him to it, voice small, but instead of hesitance, it's laced in full conviction.

"yeah okay, i can do that."

it isn't until you're back in your dorms later that night, going over a couple of review sheets for your upcoming exam, that you think to do a little research. a new tab is opened, a few words are typed, and you're floored with what you're met with.

the daphne odora (winter daphne), where 'odora' is latin for fragrant, is most noted, though not often, to be a symbol of doting love, as if to say 'i would not have you otherwise." it flowers in the winter and is primarily prone to wilting in hard soil and low sunlight…

✧ SIX (06) MONTHS AGO

mark's parents give you a once-over before letting you in. just the way they look at you speaks volumes. you can only hope they don't treat you any different. for some reason, his house feels cold, unpleasant, unwelcoming. and though you thought any homemade meal should bring about a sense of warmth, dinner is passed in tight-lipped smiles and the worst type of small talk, small talk about the weather.

retreating into his room after dinner, you decide to bring to light your worries, "mark, i don't think they really-" evident, he's already two steps ahead of you, "it's fine, y/n, they just haven't seen me date someone in awhile."

treading carefully over to his bed and placing a knee upon the sheets, you offer, "so...overly critical?"

he gives you a look, one that opposes your quavering brows and reverts your worries, "exactly."

"right," you huff a sigh of relief, as far as you know, you're convinced but the underlying layer of disbelief still holds true, "i'm gonna go get changed, okay?" you hear a mumbled, "okay" in response as you reopen the door, sights already on the bathroom at the end of the hall. it's when you're at the top of the stairwell, just before your destination, that you hear the conversation from down below, his parents you suppose.

"i'm just saying we shouldn't take this too seriously," by the pitch, you tell it's mark's mom. you move for the bathroom, uninterested, until his dad speaks up as well, "i know, especially with how she looks, exactly like her don't you think?"

"it's the eyes, they have the same eyes," your hand, just above the doorknob, is held in place. your face, expressions of the shock and concern that comes with the revelation, is unmoved. and your breath is no longer coursing air through your lungs.

"mark must still be really hung up on her if he's stuck with that replacement for so long," your hands being to shake and you're afraid that whimpers will arise in their wake, you make haste into the room, closing the door after enduring one last sentence. his mom chuckles, "poor soul, i hope he tells her soon."

you can't find the light switch but you're trembling fingers are quick to latch onto what you assume to be the shower dial, turning on the water to mask your loud sobs. you lock the door behind you, sliding down the back of it while letting out the briniest of tears. the rubber bathroom mat underneath you squeaks and your feet hit the vanity across from you. hands in your hair you can only pull at the strands, the strings of curse words and pain that emit from your figure more mental than physical.

you've never wondered what it would be like to be filed under 'replacement,' or to have a spot in someone's life as merely a disposable placeholder, someone whose presence was dictated solely by how well you satisfied the other's needs for closure, or lack thereof. now you're wondering if that is really all there is to love, satisfying each other's self-serving desires. you wonder if mark served some sort of purpose to you. but you could not, for the life of you, think of one. never in your life as now have you wanted so badly to see the good in a person you swore to love for perhaps the rest of your life.

you want to look him in the eye and tell him that you can't take it anymore, the disrespect, the mistreatment. maybe you could be dramatic and throw a hand across his face, a cup of water to douse his senses. you'd think that a man so kind would be the epitome of committed lover, never one to be agenda-oriented, not that the mark you now pictured was some scheming wretch, but you had to keep in mind that even going as far back as when he first laid his eyes on you, the interest you saw in them was in reality just familiarity. somewhere in you, something about you, maybe not even your looks, resonated with the memory of someone that was already held close to his heart, long before you came along. you were just there so he could relive his past, relish in his memories, prolong the inevitable.

but more than everything, you despise yourself. it's because of who you are, your willingness to be unfalteringly loyal even in the face of something so wrong, that makes it so you are always the backup plan, the last resort, the dumped and not the dumper. it's who you are that keeps you silent till the very moment he ends the whole damned relationship, till the very moment when there's no point in speaking out anymore, so that all that's left to do is to cry out.

✧ PRESENT

the sky is vast out in the countryside. the wind pays no mind to ruffling the leaves on the trees, branches already bare in the wake of autumn. you wished it could snow, just a little, though you doubt the early december rains would be so willing to fall into harsh winter so soon. jaemin ushers you to close the window your finger are flitting out of, he keeps ushering you, but you give him a shake of your head each time, you like the cool air. as he exits the highway, you finally slip them back in, tips of your fingers numbed raw, and jaemin looks at you in an 'i told you so' fashion before rolling the window up to keep the heated air within.

as so many times before, he takes your hand in his while he drives. fussing, his own fingers now encasing and rubbing yours to build the warmth back up. you perk up as the surroundings start to speak more 'countryside' than 'middle of nowhere.' a gas station, diner, couple of shopping plaza are passed, "how much longer?" jaemin pulls to a stop at a red light, "four, maybe five." eyes sparkling, you turn towards him, bringing your legs up on the seat and pulling his hand in yours to your lap, "ooh, so we're close. really close."

the light turns green and jaemin waits for the car in front of him to move, "why? you nervous?" you squirm in your spot, under his gaze, "i mean, n- no," rubbing the back of your neck, "yeah, a little i guess."

"and why is that?"

your hand is still on the back of your neck, fumbling with your words, "well, i mean, your parents. and we're not even- yeah, i don't know."

you say you don't know, yet, both of you know exactly what you're trying to say.

jaemin's childhood home is quaint, with a big front and backyard, and the only house on his street that has offwhite siding paint and soft blue shutters. you'd never pegged him to be a countryside kind of boy.

you've only known jaemin for the better part of two months, yet, the first thing his mom does is hold you in her warm, welcoming embrace. "y/n, dear! such a pleasure to have you here, you're all jaemin talks about over the phone." you blush at that, pulling away from her to give your most sincere smile. you wonder since when blushing was your thing.

his mother does her absolute best to learn your whole life story over the course of one single meal and his father is gruff but fails to hide a smile at your small attempts at anecdotes while jaemin full on chortles on his food. you're glad that not once do they bring up the questionings of your and jaemin's relationship because frankly, you have no idea what the whole deal with it is yourself.

even after dinner, his mother is quick to pull you into the living room, tightly bound photo albums stacked high in her hands. as the two of you coo over two-year-old jaemin taking a bath, four-year-old jaemin at his first piano recital, seven-year-old jaemin's face smushed in his birthday cake, the actual jaemin finishes up washing the dishes and makes his way to his packed bags, unveiling a pack of...you're not sure.

he sits to your right, setting the paper envelope on the table. you pick it up just as he puts it down. peering in, you pull out a bundle of photos strapped together with a measly rubber band. slipping it off, your eyes soften when you realize that almost two thirds of the stack is just you, and then a flower or two, and then some more of you.

jaemin and his mother are hovering over your shoulders on both sides when you reveal the last picture, one of you and jaemin that he had so kindly asked another visitor to take, the daphnes in the back. he had said something funny, you wish you remembered what it was, and in the moment you were looking up at him with your face scrunched in amusement, but it was too late, the picture had been taken. the man on your right takes the laminated photo from you, "i think," he starts, hands navigating the photo albums to find the most recent one. flipping it open, he slides it into the slot underneath a picture of him at his high school graduation, "i think it goes here."

jaemin gives his mother a look, unbeknownst to you, and she dismisses the two of you hurriedly to go off to bed, to get some rest after a long car ride. jaemin doesn't think much of that, apparent in how he does urge you to shower, unpack, and get comfy in his bed but also keeps you up, talking into the depths of the night.

he explains to you, later after you had asked, why his albums only went up until the end of his high school days. his head is propped up on the pillow, body strewn on the thin mattress of his bedroom floor, but both upturned to you perched on his bed. his room is a showcase of his younger years, far before you knew him, and even farther before you heard rumors of him. the walls are littered with certificates of merit, ribbons of academic excellence and his shelves, instead of books, have been cleared out for an abundance of trophies, for innumerable instruments, for perfect attendance, for anything and everything a person under eighteen could be awarded for. you'd never pegged jaemin to be a countryside boy, and added on to that, you'd never have pegged him to be the goody-two-shoes his childhood home so plainly made him out to be.

he tells you, himself, how college had changed him, how freedom had changed him, how being admitted into the fraternity changed him, how parties, underage drinking, sex, how it all rewrote the person he used to be. he looks you in the eye and tells you how much he loved the thrill, the adrenaline, the popularity, the sheer magnitude of people he had swooning over him, at his feet, on their knees. he tells you he loved it and that he's not so sure if he loves it now.

"why the sudden change?"

jaemin could tell you that he doesn't know, really, that maybe he just grew up a little and saw his time wasted, that perhaps he realized all the fights he had with his parents were simply not worth it. or, he could tell you the truth.

"because of you."

"what do you mean?"

"i mean," he's scrambling to sit up straight now, so he can look you in the eyes. if he's going to do this, he's going to do it properly. his eyes level with yours, lips freshly licked, he dives in the deep end. "i think i just- i met you at your worst. and we talked, and we, i don't know, flirted, and everything was supposed to just pan out how it usually does. you know, in bed. but it didn't." you've sat up as well, feet hanging over the edge of his bed and barely scraping the floor. you reach to hold both his hands in yours, though you have not the slightest clue where he is going with this tangent. "it didn't, but even then, i- i never-" it seems that even he doesn't know.

jaemin's hands start to clam in yours but there's an underlying determination that still holds strong, he's nowhere near done. "i never stopped going after you, and not at all for the sex. i- it was really just for you."

your jaw unhinges itself, hand not bothering to cover, thoughts elsewhere. what you thought might've been his life-changing, inspirational, heart-spurring tale, is turning out to be something you were inexplicably unprepared for. your newly sprouted tears are at the brink of overflowing as you try to make sense of the mess your mind has already made for itself. the questions are almost pushed over the precipice of your tongue before jaemin clears the air with finality and a handful, of in-the-moment confidence.

"y/n," jaemin's fingers glide over your knuckles in half the rhythm of your heartbeat, "i met you at your worst and i think that somehow it made me realize that i was also at my worst. and i don't know what people have to say about two sad people falling in love, all i really know is that i like you. i really fucking like you."

as if on cue, you start crying right then. "fuck, jaem," you pull your hands from him to swipe at your face and he's moving onto the bed as he speaks, dumbfounded, "why are you crying, y/n? is this like a 'i like you back and i'm happy' or 'i don't like you back' kinda cry?" you throw your head back in unprecedented laughter as he takes you in his embrace. your head rocks back and rests on his shoulders, arms coming up to encase them. "it's a 'relieved that i'm not the only one' cry."

he draws back, hands still holding you at the waist, "so, i'm taking that to mean you like me back?" you lick your lips, "maybe...possibly, you'll have to find out on your own." jaemin shakes his head, the back of his right hand coming up to caress the apples of your cheek. chuckling he retorts, "you're saying that like i don't already know. eunmi kinda let it slip a few weeks ago."

"she what?!"

"well, she kinda said that you were falling for me or something like that."

"well," you stop, in confoundment of being left in utter betrayal, "well, she's wrong. tell her that i said she's wrong."

"but you-"

"no, fuck what i just said, she's wrong."

"i- okay," jaemin watches you fall back onto your back with a huff, he follows shortly. the ceiling the both of you stare at and beyond is rightfully comforting after a week that just happened to start well, go well, end well. maybe love is your forte, after all, loving yourself after all that's happened, loving others despite all that might go wrong, anything to do with love. you suppose the getting dumped the eighth time would have made that quite obvious but you just had to throw yourself out there again, just to make sure. and boy were you glad you did just that.

jaemin is cutting fruit when it first begins to snow. apples are especially delectable in the winter, he knows he's bound to love them even more after this one winter. you're on the couch when it begins to snow, just shy of beating your long-withstanding high score on some game you were admittedly terrible at. jaemin joins you on the couch with the plate of apples, moments after it beings to snow.

"jaem," your lay a hand on his thigh, your sights elsewhere, "look, it's snowing."

you're scrambling to get a scarf around your neck, your boots zipped, the turtleneck underneath your coat pulled to your chin. the sky is almost dark, sunset not entirely visible under the veil of clouds. jaemin can't decide what is more enlightening, the snow or you and the ear-splitting grin that takes up half your expression. he decides that it's you.

you aren't even allotted the time to make snow angels before his lips are on yours. it's not the first time the two of you have kissed but neither of you will deny how different it feels. jaemin guesses it's because the way his lips move against your is fueled by untainted adoration and he suspects the same from you. he molds them steadily, wanting to take delight in the feeling for as long as hig lungs would permit. specks of snow dust the crests of your cheeks and the tail ends of his eyelashes. they heat in contact with your skin and begin their descent, deliquescing as they stray down the curves of your cheeks, meeting at your mouth that so fervently moving again jaemin's. it's where the cold melts of snow meet the warm mix of salivation.

you wield all the experience you will ever need, yet, it feels like it's your very first kiss, butterflies stirring down in your tummy and all. it never ends, it really doesn't. not when he first parts for air, or when you part the time after that, or even when you notice his mom, hands on her hips, from the window, or when the snow begins to clot at your feet.

you think you love him.

despite all the thoughts that tell you it's cheesy, it's boring, it's lame and conventional, you tell him on valentine's day.

the party is alive, it's at its height, it's roaring and it's ravaging fun. the party is in full swing and as what is now considered usual, neither you nor jaemin are eager in partaking in it, opting to simply hang out in his room, above the loud music and the moans from the opposite ends of all four walls. the door is locked this time and instead of joining the crowd in the main event of fucking each other senseless, the two of you have a small setup on his bed, littered with textbooks, previous exam papers, a fancy charcuterie board, courtesy of the dedicated chef, jaemin himself. you're on your back, feet hitched upon the headboard and laptop positioned at a ninety degree angle on your ninety degree angled legs. jaemin is on the floor rather, using the bed as a makeshift table even though he has an actual table not two feet away.

"i wish we could go to your dorms, it's loud as fuck." in response, you heave a sigh, mind now sidetracked from your work, "a pity i live on the fifth floor, we have no chance in sneaking you in." a thought dawns on him and he wonders why neither of you thought of it before, "let's go to the car."

it's quite the sight and you're sure anyone who's actively paying attention would laugh. jaemin's arms are locked straight up, supporting yours, his computer, and three textbooks, as he navigates the swarm of people to the exit. you're, following in tow, arms held up in similar fashion but instead of a stack of books, you're hoisting the charcuterie board, still abundant with cheese and grapes and a dip of honey. the threat of everything toppling over is very much apparent.

he'd driven a little ways down his street so that the buzz of the party could be left fully behind. the only thing aiding your studying is now the low-grade yellow lights that come with the fold down mirrors. "holy shit, jaem," your mouth waters even as it anticipates its next bite. "what?" he glances over at you. the charcuterie board is hiked on your knees that are drawn to your chest, makeshift tables are all too common today it seems. all the cheese on the board have an identical bite on them, a result of your taste testing but it seems that only one has drawn your liking so much so that you have eaten most the portion provided. "this- the- what's this one?"

"petite jalapeño, why?"

you cover your mouth as you chew hurriedly, "it's so fucking good, babe, with the honey. oh my god, i love you." you've finished chewing but you don't notice what's left your mouth, definitely not food.

"you what?"

you're thoughtlessly thrown into his trap, "i love- fuck."

"you love fuck."

"wait no."

you put the plate on the dashboard, dusting off your hands while your cheeks dust rose under the dingy lights. "i- wait, yeah i," you shift a leg under you, turning to your boyfriend but refusing to look him in the eye. you speak to the outlines of the house two down from his, "i guess i do love you."

"y/n, look at me."

you shy away from him, embarrassed yet overcome with the sudden wash of feelings. you knew this, you do love him, so why is it so hard to voice aloud? he brings his hand to your chin, leans it towards him until you have no choice but to gaze into his loving stare. truth be told, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"i love you too."

your fingers play with your bottom lip, thrusting it up and down, left and right as you mull over which picture to post. "bummer, i look great in this one but you're blinking. ugh." swiping to the next one, you find that it's the last. "here," jaemin unlocks his phone with one hand, holds it out for you, "i think i have some that jaein took, she's better at taking pictures than jeno anyways." taking the device from him, you click into his photos and find the last two hundred or so to be just of you and the lavender fields, he hasn't changed a bit.

jaein does have a lot more sense, "wow my legs look so long in this one," and "geez, that hair flip was entirely unintentional, i must be a natural." jaemin rolls his eyes at that, one hand of his on the wheel while the other makes its way over to your thigh, rubbing a soft, distracted massage.

the first red flag that draws your attention. you're airdropping a cumulative 54 photos to your own phone when you see a name that you had long forgotten in his top three message chats, minyoung. you ignore it. you post the picture. you edit the caption seven times, each time becoming more indecisive than the last while jaemin gives you the incredulest of looks.

you decide to stay at his place for the night, not that it's an inconvenience to drive the extra two minutes back to your place, but just because he wants to spend the night with you. there's no objections, why would there be?

the second red flag that draws your attention. jaemin's showing you something on his phone, a video of a dog maybe, you've forgotten. the text that drops down while the two of you huddle over the screen holds your interest far longer. it's minyoung and she's telling him to come over. you're slightly alarmed, you're boyfriend even more so. he draws his phone back instantly, to your dismay, and you almost want to snatch it from him, to delve into the depths of the chat. you really almost do.

"jaem, what did i just see?"

"y/n, it's not what you think," it irks you that he's so quick to defend. you keep your head on cool for now, "okay, then what was it about?" his eyes shift from yours to the wall behind you, you're surprised they're lined with annoyance. he shakes his head, "nothing."

you're thinking it's all the more reasonable for you to be the one who's annoyed. you bit down harsh on your lip, refusing to give way to any of your many impulses, "if it's nothing then why can't you tell me?"

jaemin glances over at you, fleetingly, "i- it's not something you should be worried about. just, trust me, will you?" rubbing your hands down the fabric of your- his sweatpants, you utter a sigh, not sure of how much longer, how many more times you have to be left in the dark, for you to snap at him. you hope it isn't soon. "jaem, i trust you, i do. but that doesn't mean i'll believe everything you say blindly." you note that, for whatever reason, his pupils are shaking. "at least, not after what i just saw."

"then i don't know what to say. you have to trust me on this."

na jaemin has never been stubborn, or, he's never had a reason to be. everything goes accordingly to the way he wants to, that's how it's always been. maybe it's because of his endearing charms that teachers can never fail him, that compliments are always showered upon him. perhaps it's the way he flatters that makes him so likeable, befriending people is as easy as reciting the alphabet when you've frequented too many parties and met too many people. he knows that when he kisses up, people will bow down, he's never been rejected. it's definitely because of his good looks that girls always spilt their legs open for him, they never say no.

na jaemin gets what he wants, except when he doesn't.

"no."

you leave because you have trust issues, sure, who doesn't, who cares. who cares if there are tears streaming down your face for seemingly stupid reasons? it isn't the first time, it's nowhere near the first time. it's the same feeling you had when you realized your first boyfriend wasn't going to reply back, there's still a read seven years ago below your text. the same feeling when you saw your second kissing your 'best friend.' still all those years ago, when you were two steps away to the lunch table when you heard your third whisper to his friends, "just a stupid bet with a stupid girl." when your fourth told you he lost feelings for you when you were still madly in love with him and when you had to found out from your oldest sister that your fifth was her classmate, in grad school, while you were still in your last year of high school, not even old enough to vote. your sixth trying to strip you of your virginity right after you agreed to be his girlfriend and your seventh basically forgetting you existed. you were getting the same fucking feeling all those months ago when you finally realized your rightful position as 'replacement,' as 'number 2,' as 'poor soul.' maybe distrust is simply inbred in you and though you know the prospects of yours and jaemin's relationship are far from over, you can't deny the gut feeling that your bad luck in men is coming back to haunt you, that it's never left in the first place.

na jaemin forgets that he has a past he can't erase, just like you. the girls he's fucked over the past three years have hearts and they have reasons they began to fuck him in the first place. he couldn't heal their hearts, nor his, but sex did a great deal, made a great deal of people jealous, gave him all he needed at the time. he never expected them to simply go away when he decided to settle down but it seems that his reputation holds so much worth that it's proving hard to overcome it himself. jaemin hates that you date the campus fuckboy, he hates that people still whisper in your ear that he's fucking so-and-so in the dead of night. he hates that he can't get rid of the stigma around his name, even though you know, through and through, that he can't nearly live up to it anymore. you know yet, you leave because of it. his reputation. na jaemin, certified eye candy and delectable dick, wishes he was anyone but himself.

her bare feet shuffling down the hall is the only thing she hears. she wishes they let people wear shoes on the second floor so she could've busted her heels out and clacked her way to his room. she needs the rush of empowerment right now. she needs it.

the next thing she hears is the sound of raised voices right as she is about to shove the door open, the door fifth on the left of the hall to the right of the stairwell, exactly where you'd told her he'd be, albeit reluctantly.

eunmi is taken aback now that she recognizes one of the voices behind the door. minyoung. gritting her teeth, she presses her ear to the wood, careful to keep quiet.

"so you're fucking her now? is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"minyoung, i'm not fucking her. we're dating, it's been that way for awhile," he sounds exasperated, maybe, eunmi can almost see the crease in his brows.

"why didn't you bother to ask me if i was fine with it? we had a thing going, you can't just bail on me like that."

"the only thing we had going was quick fucks every thursday. i'm sorry, but i don't think that's much of a relationship."

her voice is growing impatient, in desperation like she's grasping at loose strings, hanging on to whatever she can find, "this little bitch- does she even know? how much of a dick you are? are you just going to leave her like you did me?"

"stop, minyoung, please,"

but eunmi guesses her point is valid nonetheless, she herself doesn't think very highly of him. "how would she feel if i told her that? that leaving is your specialty? you can fuck me, and all my friends and leave, thinking that we'd never know, but we know, okay? and if you- if you ever think that you'll be satisfied with settling down for this chick, think again jaemin."

eunmi backs into the restroom across the door, for good measure and good sense because minyoung is storming out the second after, unaware of her eavesdropper. a minute and a glimpse later, she knows that jaemin is crouched by the foot of his bed, though she's unsure why.

she braves herself because she's here for answers. reappearing at his door, she calls softly as if raising a white flag, "hey there." jaemin's head snaps up instantaneously in surprise. "oh, hi, what're you doing here?" he lowers himself to sit on the floor and eunmi takes the spot in front of him, wariness in her movements.

"well, i came here for y/n, obviously, but um, i just happened to hear-" she's cut off when jaemin lets out a low groan into his hands. eunmi makes her stance a little clearer now that she has a better feel of the situation, "i'm not here to break up with you for her or anything. she didn't really want me to come, but i guess, i guess i came because we've also had our fair share of...disagreements that i think we should set straight," she pauses, hands fiddling with her thumbs in her lap, "i'm sorry if this is too much after, all that."

he looks relieved at that, "no, it's fine. i- i'm glad you want to, i don't know, make up. i haven't really been all that great of a friend these past years anyway."

eunmi lets a smile slip at that, what an interesting turn of events, "so...friends?"

"friends."

"and just to set the record straight, you're not still fucking minyoung right?"

jaemin rolls his eyes, shakes his head, gesticulates with his hands, "no, i got y/n. she's all i really need." eunmi nods to fill the awkward silence that follows. she's reminded of another inquiry, "so why didn't you just tell her that?"

"i guess i just didn't want her to worry or like- or get involved with my past, stuff like that. i kinda hated how it's dredged up all the time, especially now that i've, i don't know, settled down, committed."

"should've just told her," eunmi deadpans.

"i really should've," jaemin agrees.

"need me to drive you?" jaemin's extra careful with his words today, post-arguments can be fickle, particularly if they're only halfway resolved. your voice is muffled on the other end, "no, i'll walk." jaemin's wishes he'd insisted it instead of simply offering, late spring rains weren't all that uncommon, and even more so when the skies are darkening as they are on this specific day. "it might rain though," he tries again. you decline again, "i'll manage, thank you."

he sees you in ten, fifteen minutes or so, and sure enough, you're drenched head to toe, staring up at him with eyes that bear in mind the tension that hangs in between you and also border the bounds of laughter at how you're dripping wet with no one to blame but yourself. jaemin bites back the 'i told you so' and hurries to get you dried off with a towel, changed, and under the sheets. by then, the tension has subsided considerably.

"you wanna talk about it?"

you're tired, though it hasn't even struck five on the clock, "i thought that's what i'm here for."

"so, i'm not fucking her-"

"nice to know-"

"-just had some loose ends to tie up-"

"-and did you?" jaemin supposes you're far too tired to be emitting the same, resolute aggressions as a few days prior seeing as you're keeping your voice to a minimum and the words that come out are straight to the point, blunt. he does his best to reflect the same straightforwardness.

"i did, she's...off my back, our back...our backs."

you give him a look, scrunch your nose, and tug him by the arms into you. there's a blanket separating you two but he fits exactly against you anyways. you wonder how anyone could ever get in between the two of you if you so perfectly mold alongside him. the bridge of his nose nuzzles down your neck and you're laughing because it doesn't get any better than this, really.

he shuts the light on the bedside table off with an inattentive hand, the blankets are drawn back and he's pulled flush into you. his body heat is welcome on a frigid night and the blanket that falls back on top of him seals the both of you within the confines of his bed for the hours to come. you're starting to think that coming here was more just to cuddle than it was to make up with him.

"i can't get enough of you," his face is in your neck.

"and why is that?"

"because- because everything about you- i feel like i'd be missing out if i never tried to start something with you," he buries himself further in your scent, "it's like i emptied my heart out just so you could fill it back up."

your chin rests on the crown of his head, it tickles him when you speak, now in half wakefulness, "could say the same for you."

jaemin whispers into your ear, breath fanning down onto your neck, words that will only ever be for you, "i would not have you otherwise."

jaemin spent your spring break at your hometown, to meet your parents, both of which loved him dearly. he wouldn't dare voice it aloud but he thinks it's the sweetest that your mother holds you, her youngest daughter, in such high-esteem after bringing home who she thinks to be the 'most gorgeous man alive,' an utterance he was sure was not meant for him to hear.

he likes being the 'most gorgeous man alive,' especially if you were the one who thought so, but as he watches you stare intently at the flynn rider's jawline, his own jaw clenches. tangled is playing as the pre-movie for movie night, the movie that plays before people actually start to arrive since, donghyuck and eunmi are always destined to be at least an hour late. but it's not that that gets him the most riled up that night, riled up isn't even the right word. maybe agitation, at whoever thought it was a good idea to invite mark lee. mark fucking lee, the grad student. the whoever turns out to be chenle and although jaemin does not have it in him to beat the kid up, he is sure as hell watching over the dude from the moment he walks in to the moment he leaves.

more than that, he also keeps his eyes on you as well, tracing your expression with every word his goddamned senior ought to speak. "hey, y/n, how have you been?" jaemin glares. as far as his detective senses go, he figures that marks target for the night isn't you, but rather eunmi. he hopes he can get over this as quickly and neatly as possible. your face twitches into a smile, uncomfortable, he thinks. "fine, i've been fine. you?" jaemin wants to draw you back and tell you that you had no obligation to be so polite, that the 'fine' would have done its job splendidly on its own.

"pretty good myself, looks like things have been happening around here, huh," jaemin hates the way he wriggles his eyebrows, "hyuck and eunmi, you and him." jaemin hates how he just referred to him as 'him,' surely, there was a lot more due respect than that. "yeah, and jeno and jaein but that's-"

"oh psh, old news," the two of you laugh, you laugh with him, with him. jaemin is just about ready to throw hands when mark excuses himself to get a seat on the floor, serves him right, he thinks. you look comparatively calm next to the raging boy. why is he the only one bothered by this?

"you good there? didn't even say a word to him."

he gulps, "yeah, i'm great. just didn't feel like talking."

you're staring at him like you can see right through him, that's exactly the case, "i'm over him, you know?" jaemin scratches at his neck, "yeah, i know." head on his shoulder as the first official movie of the night plays, you sigh, "no need to get all worked up, i'm all yours."

the twentieth century fox theme plays in the background of the romance novel you live in. na jaemin makes you feel that way, unfailingly, every single day. it's written in the ways he kisses you, lovemarks blooming under your skin. it's written in the way he stares at you, with nothing else except pure, unadulterated love. it's written in between the lines, his actions, his thoughts, everything that amounts to so much more than the past years of deprivation you've had to endure. it's written in the stars, out in the countryside where jaemin could never fake a smile, not in the presence of you. with you by his side, not in a million years.

it's here. summer fucking break is finally here. and if there's anything to prove that, it's the way you're currently sitting in a car with all your friends. taking a short little road trip out to the beach. now, mind you, these are the same friends that were there on your drunkest nights, slumped over bar counters and blatantly asking for any hot guy's number. the same friends that accompanied you on your most sober nights, holed up in your single-person dorm room, trying to study for an exam for a class you could never wake up in time for. and among those friends is one who has an added prefix, your boyfriend, na jaemin, who's in the driver's seat per your request since your carsickness prevented you from any other seats and you really wanted him by your side. jaemin didn't seem to mind driving, after all, he was next to you.

the sun is setting too fast and eunmi, sitting in the seat in the far back, complains that they'd have to set up the bonfire right away instead of getting to play in the warm water while it's warm. donghyuck, beside her, is complaining too, but not about the bonfire or even the trip in general, but about eunmi and her legs which are hoisted on his lap, something about how his dingaling needs to breath. jaein, in the seat right behind you is musing on about how she thinks it'll be funny when they arrive and see yeseul and renjun's car torn up in two, neither of them could ever get along. jeno, to her left, is fussing with rubbing sunblock on her, getting angry at how her hair could never stay out of his way.

you glance over at jaemin who has this smile on his face. this smile that makes it seem like he's in adoration of the whole scene panning out in the rearview mirror. he takes a glance over at you too and, if even possible, his smile beams wider, straight pearly whites and all. his hand finds yours.

it's already dark when the eight of you arrive but eunmi isn't complaining anymore since the boys make quick work in getting the bonfire set up while letting the girls play in the water. the ocean water licks at your feet as you watch eunmi and yeseul duel in how much water they could spray at each other, jaein sitting on the shore off to the side, watching as well. you're pondering going over to accompany her when eunmi's hand latches on your left arm and tugs the whole of you into the water with her. it's warm and wouldn't have been entirely unwelcoming had you gotten a notice in advance.

you make fun in chasing them around, kicking up water in eunmi's face one too many times that she begins to choke on the saltiness. yeseul is now on the shore yelling at renjun. and jaein is doing her best with a tent. eunmi, who's back you were currently rubbing, is almost through with her fit and you think the mischievous face she's pulling means another round but she brings up a question instead, "how's he in bed?"

she's right if she assumed you'd chuck another armful of water in her face.

you sigh in annoyance as jaemin tosses the towel over your head once again, unsatisfied with how the tips of your hair were still wet. his fingers are ruffling fast and making quick work to dry the strands but you're upset. "jaemin, babe, we've been standing here for ten minutes, can i go now?" your head resurfaces as he gives the towel one more tug, smiling, "just making sure you don't get sick." he follows as you duck into your shared tent to get ready for the bonfire. "shit, jaem. i didn't bring an extra top," you frown but he only smiles wider and grabs his hoodie from the ground beside the sleeping bags. "lucky for you, then," he tugs the article of clothing over your head, only speaking again once your eyes peek out, "because i love seeing you wear my clothes."

you give him a nose scrunch in return but every word of his, every single word that comes from his mouth is enough to get you swooning. you follow him out the tent.

"so," donghyuck's eyes are playful in the light of the fire, "what game are we playing today?" jeno groans, "do we always have to play some sort of game? why can't we just like…" even he's unsure of what to do. the eight of you are situated around the blazing fire that's, not quite large enough to be a bonfire, but does its job in keeping you warm. jaein perks up after much deliberation, "how about...we go around and each make a wish?"

donghyuck huffs, "fine by me." it starts with jeno, and though you truly value each and every one of your friends' wishes, there's only one that you really remember for the rest of the night, the day, the week, the month, and the years to come. jaemin clears his throat, the rest of the group watching him including you, the you he turns to. you're huddled over on the log beside him, wrapped up in his hoodie and hair an absolute mess. your eyes are heavy and he already knows that once everyone decides to call it a night, you will be the first to leave. you're looking at him in tired anticipation and mild interest, he hopes what he has to say tells you all he needs you to know.

"i already have you, so there's nothing left to wish for."

the rest of the group breaks off into 'oohs' and 'ewws' but you swear that you and jaemin, jaemin and you are stuck in your own little world. his gaze is incredibly soft and endearing, you scoot closer and place a head on his shoulder, his hand coming around your frame in automatic response. leaning into his warmth, you feel closest to home than you ever have before.

jaemin carries you to sleep later that night. and even later that night, or rather early in the morning, when you rustle awake, he's aroused by you as well. the two of you sit on a towel atop the dry sand, right before where the tides ride up the shore. basked in the moonlight, jaemin's skin beams a pale sheen and his eyes are cast over darkly, ethereally, divinely. your head is still on his shoulder and you feel the words vibrate through you when he speaks, "did you have fun today?"

you tuck a lip under your front teeth and nod for him to feel. he asks another question, "how are you feeling?" this time, you aren't able to part with just a shake of your head so you sit up, eyes never leaving the push and pull of the sunless ocean, "i feel...happy."

he looks over at you, not in surprise but in interest, "happy? why do you feel happy?" you shrug almost, musing off whatever comes to mind first, "i don't know, school just ended, this trip, summer break. i have a lot of reasons to be happy." jaemin isn't sulky at that but he does his best to pull his name from you, "and what about me?"

you dare a glance over at the man next to you, his eyes already boring into yours, "well, you too, of course." looking away as quickly as you'd looked over, you mumble quietly, "actually, more because of you than anything." in your peripheries, you see him give you a look that speak 'that's what i thought' and you clip down your smile in favor of a shake of your head.

moving from your spot, you surprise jaemin when you block his view of the seaside. he settles you down into his lap with familiar control, arms cradling you tight to his chest. hand on his neck, you trace it up to his cheek and guide his head down to face yours. jaemin leans in for a soft kiss, lips suckling at your bottom as your teeth tug on his top, slow but sensual, tired but sweet. you pull away for a breath but it's as if he doesn't need to breathe anymore because he chases after your lips almost instinctively. soft kiss after soft kiss is all that's needed for you to pluck up your courage and look him in the eyes, lips detached, and speak the truth your heart has been singing in your ears all along. "jaem," his eyes are hazy as they find yours in the dim light. somewhere in the back, the sun is peeking over the horizon in all its glory but neither of you pay it any mind. "yes, love?" he brushes the hairs from your face, fingers gliding across your cheeks and then fumbling with your bottom lip with his thumb. you blink and you speak.

"i've been waiting for you all my life."

you think back over the past seven months, a little over half a year, that you've had this man in your life, five months of which he was your boyfriend. you wonder how you could've fallen so fast in such a short amount of time. then again, love is rarely ever about how short or how long. it's more about the timing in which everything falls into place, the intensity by which each person loves, their pasts and how willing they are to erase it. falling in love is not about getting it right the first time, to find someone to be your first and last. for you particularly, jaemin is your ninth, and though the prospects of him being your last are still far from true, you know in your heart and in your mind and in every part of your living being that with each coming second, he's a second closer to becoming your last.

✧ end note — if my ex ever sees this, though i truly doubt he will, he gon know i stole one of his lines for jaemin. the wish one. yeah...he always had his way with words, that's about all he had though. but hey, it makes a hell of a good line in this story. i hope you had a good time reading this piece, it was such a pleasure to write. i will see you guys when i wake up for class in three hours hehe. with all the love in the world, rouiyan

#nct jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #neo-constellations #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct fics #nct jaemin fluff #jaemin fics #jaemin angst #na jaemin #nct jaemin fics #maxed the shit out of that 15k #very lightly proofread #will go over later #enjoy for now #<3 #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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