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jaehyunnie77 · 3 years

Text

Crave

summary: All the sexual tension leads up to one house party with none other than your best friend Jaehyun.

pairing: jaehyun x f. reader (featuring johnny and mark)

genre: college au; f2l!, smut, humor, fluff

warnings: alcohol, daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk, oral recieving (both), overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids)

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @jaehyunfirstlove thank you for encouraging me <3

a/n: I wrote this for fun one night haha I tried my best since this is my first time writing a smut and fic. I hope you enjoy this as much as I had writing it <3

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“Hurry up y/n! By the time we get there all the booze will be gone and I won’t get to see Johnny!” your best friend yelled from the living room. “You always see Johnny” you yelled back from the bathroom. “Not the point! I’m trying to get some dick!” You could only roll your eyes and chuckle. “Give me a second. I’m almost done!” If you were being honest, you didn’t want to go to the house party your friends Mark and Johnny were throwing.

The two guys and your best friend have all been pointing out reasons to go out, especially after your break up with your ex boyfriend. “Y/n, you need to have some fun and live a little. You can’t stay cooped up in your room or in the library forever. That’ll just make you more weirder.” Mark said one afternoon. “Yeah, and you have nice clothes y/n! They need to see light!” your best friend chimed in. You knew there was no point in trying to argue your point, so here you are, on a Saturday night, getting dressed in what feels like forever, to go to a house party.

You leaned over the sink to put on your lipgloss and do a glance over of your makeup and looked at yourself in the mirror. After weeks of wearing nothing but baggy shirts, sweats, and no effort in doing hair and makeup, you hardly recognize yourself. In replacement, you are wearing tight black jeans that hugs your waist and a red crop top along with black heels. You definetly didn’t recognize yourself. As you made sure everything was to your liking, you headed outside to the living room where your best friend stood.

“About damn -” she gasped and you instantly felt panicked rushing through your body.

“What? Is it too much? You know what I’m just going to change.” you said already turning back.

“No! You look hot as fuck! If I wasn’t chasing after Johnny’s dick, I would be making moves on you.” you both laughed.

“It’s not too much though? I haven’t gone out since -”

“No, here is what we are not going to do. We are not going to talk about that sore loser of an ex of yours tonight, tomorrow, or any other night because tonight you are going to find someone and get laid!” You couldn’t help but groan out loud. “Trust me y/n. You deserve a night out to have fun and just be you again. You look beautiful.” She gave you a cheeky smile. Before you could say anything, she was pushing you through the door.

By the time you arrived 10 minutes later to the party, you were honestly speechless. Sure you’ve been to other parties before the boys threw, but nothing compared to tonight. What was supposed to be the front lawn was full of people and even the balcony was people. It looked like the entire school was here partying. Once you found the front door, more people crowded the entire house with bodies against one another, red cups and bottle of beers on every surface, and smoke in the air. Without wasting any time, you both walked toward the kitchen to get yourselves situated.

As you were about to grab a drink, you were greeted with hugs and yells from Johnny, Mark, Yuta, and your best friend Jaehyun. “About damn time you two got here! We were wondering who kidnapped your sexy asses.” Johnny said, already tipsy. He gave you a one sided hug as his eyes roamed all over your best friend.

“Oh yeah, what would you have done if my sexy ass was kidnapped?” your best friend flirted back. You couldn’t help but fake vomit as you see your two closest friends flirting in front of you.

“If you guys are going to flirt and fuck, please don’t do it around me.” you fake gagged making everyone laugh.

You were then handed a shot glass and when you looked at the owner of the hand, you find yourself smiling widely at Jaehyun as his arm wrapped around your waist giving you a one sided hug. He gives you his infamous smile and dimples as he pulls you close and whispers in your ear, “You look beautiful.” At this point you forget how to breathe because the smell of his cologne and the way he makes you feel becomes all suffocating.

You and Jaehyun first met in your first year of college in one of your shared classes. At first it was small talk, asking questions if either of you written down notes from the last class, to studying together at the library to coffee runs and making movie nights at one another dorms. Within a short span of time, you two were inseperable and becoming the best of friends.

Sure you have found him extremely attractive, but you knew better than to let your emotions get the best of you. Plus, you were dating your ex, while he had flings here and there. You knew there was never a chance for you both to be more than friends. Or so you thought.

With your last relationship, Jaehyun had helped you through your break up and made sure to keep you occupied. He did a good job if you’re being honest because after two weeks, you forgot all about your ex.

One night after a heavy studying session in your room, things got interesting. You don’t know how it happened or who made the first move, but next thing you knew, you are kissing your best friend! The kiss was hot and needy and it made you feel all the tingles everywhere in your body. No one broke away and the more you two made out, the more you craved for him. You found yourself straddling him and begun to grind your hips down on him. You could feel his bulge grow, earning a tiny moan from him. He gripped your waist and started to move you faster against him. Just then there was a loud knock on your door. “Delivery.” You both sigh as you get off of him.

You come back with the food and didn’t know how to look at him. “Um, I, that...” you stuttered, embarassed at what just happened. He looks at your flustered state and starts to chuckle. You look at him wide eyes as you let out a laugh.

“It’s okay. Glad we got that out of the way.” he said.

You scoffed and threw the nearst pillow at him, not bothering to dissect his words. His laughter booms throughout the room. He calms down and looks at you seriously. “Honestly though, it’s okay y/n. I know I’m hot.” he laughs again.

“Jaehyun! Oh my god. Shut up!” you cried back as you start to lightly hit him anywhere on his body you could hit.

As much as you wanted him to make you feel good and fuck you dumb, you weren’t ready to risk your friendship just yet. From that day on, you two never talk about it nor made any other moves to steal kisses or have sex. That didn’t mean you two stopped flirting with one another or the sexual tension in the air.

With two or four, maybe six, shots downed and however many refills you had, you had lost count, you were having fun. You and Mark played beer pong and won against Yuta and Jaehyun, to which Jaehyun wasn’t that pleased. When he looked over at the table in disbelief, he couldn’t help but soften his emotions when he saw you smiling and laughing. He thought to himself that he would let this go just this once.

After your victory, you roamed around to the living room and began dancing with a couple of people you’ve seen in classes. Your best friend was nowhere in sight, most likely upstairs with Johnny. Feeling loose and happy, your eyes stopped at the man across the room whose eyes were all on you.

From where Jaehyun stood, he could see how much fun you were having. He loved the way your body moved to the music and how all he wanted to do was take off those jeans that clunged to your body. He was leaning against the wall and couldn’t stop himself from having thoughts of what he could do to you if you were his. There was no denying that when you two were left alone, there was always an electrufying electricity throughout the room. He wanted more and he was ready to take that risk. He craved you.

You began walking towards Jaehyun, eyes never leaving one another. His eyes were dark and full of lust and made your whole body shiver. As if the universe was on your side, ‘Pussy Fairy’ started to play. You gave him a smirk as you turned around and started to dance on him. He puts his whole chest behind you, his head finding its way to your neck, and match your movements. You were thankful the room was dark to hide your flustered face as his breath brushed against your skin.

He kisses your neck ever so softly, letting out a moan only for him to hear. You felt high on ectasy. He put his index finger under chin making you turn your head to him as he kissed your lips. What started off as soft and teasing turned into hunger as your tongues collided exploring ones mouth. Oh how you missed his lips. You pulled away smiling at him as he studied your face, understanding what you wanted. He put his drink down as he took your hand and guided you upstairs to a nearby empty bedroom.

He closed and locked the door quickly and pushed you against the nearest wall kissing you. You grunt as you felt the sudden impact on your back. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment.” he said in between kisses. Your tongues were fighting for dominance, but you knew better. You sucked on his tonuge earning a moan out of him. Satisfy with yourself, you bit lightly on his buttom lip.

He undid your jeans sliding them down and helping you out of it along with your panties. He kissed you up until he was back to your lips. Your arms around his broad shoulders and hands in his hair. He put his thigh between your legs as you mindlessly bucked into him. You could feel him smirking.

“You’re so fucking sexy. Will you let me be yours tonight?” he asked looking into your eyes.

“Ruin me ... daddy” you quietly say.

“Say that again.”

“Ruin me da-” before you could finish your words, he inserted a finger into you. A loud gasp leaving your mouth as your eyes rolled back.

“You’re so wet baby girl. Daddy is going to ruin you tonight.” he inserted another finger, stretching you out completely as you moaned loudly. God his fingers felt magical inside you. He kissed and bit your neck as his other hand started to caress your boob. “So fucking perfect.”

“Jae, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum on my fingers baby.”

Without being told twice, you felt your release flowing through you. He helped you ride out your high, fingers never stopping from pumping into you. He kiss your lips and withdraws his fingers and place it into his mouth. “Mmm. You taste so good.” He takes off your top and bra and walks you back to the bed. You helped him discard his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers.

He settles in between your legs as he starts to nibble, flick, suck, and massage both your breasts. You were so turned on by his touches and mouth, you almost cum on the spot. “Please don’t stop daddy” you say breathlessly.

“Does my baby girl love when daddy’s mouth is on you like this?” he lightly bites your erected nipple. All you could do is nod, words completely leaving your mind. “Words baby.”

“Yes daddy. Please don’t stop doing that.” you bucked your hips towards him.

“Not yet princess, I’m not done yet. Now be a good girl for me and don’t cum until I say so.” he leaves trail kisses down your stomach to your thighs and to your slit. He circles his tonuge on your clit making you arch your back. “f-fuck” you say.

“Is all of this for me?” he teases you. With every lick, every squeeze he gives your breats, you felt yourself losing your mind. As he sucks on your clit, he inserts his fingers and pumps into you.

The feeling is so overwhelming you were close. “J-Jae, I’m so close. Please.” you begged him. That just made him more determine to make you cum for the second time. He looked up at you between your legs and see your o face and that in itself was the perfect image for him. He loved that he was the one making you feel good and calling out his name. Your hands gripping his hair a little too harshly, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was making you feel good.

He could feel your body begin to tremble as he put his arm over your stomach to keep you in place and the other over your thighs to keep them open. Without warning, you are cumming for the second time. You felt hazy and on cloud nine, his tongue making you oversensitive.

He lets go of your clit with a pop. “Did daddy say you could cum? his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. He gets up to take off his boxer and his hard cock springs up. You couldn’t wait any longer as you got on your knees bending foward and taking his cock in your hands. You looked up at him with innocent eyes as you gave his cock a stroke and kisses along the side and finally the tip. He hisses at the sight of you as you put him in your mouth. You bobbed you’re head up and down before he put puts his hands through your hair keeping you in place. You take him in deeper until he was hitting the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck y/n. Just like that. You’re a bad girl, but daddy loves your mouth so fucking much.”

You pulled him out of your mouth with a pop to get air. Saliva and precum dripping from your mouth. You giggled and take his cock into your mouth again as he thrust into your mouth. You tried your best not to gag, but the sounds you were making made him thrust harder. “Fuck you’re going to make me cum!”

He pulled you back and gently pushed you back onto the bed. Before you could adjust yourself, he lined up his cock at your entrance and thrusted into you knocking out the wind in you. “You’re so big!” your head rolls back onto the pillow as you could feel every inch of him inside you as he bottoms out. He stills for a second to let you adjust to him. “You’re so tight baby.” You grabbed his face down to yours and kiss him.

“Ruin me Jaehyun.” you say breathlessly.

He pulls out leaving only the top in as he starts to pound into you. With every thrust felt like heaven. The bed starts to hit against the wall at his rapid pace as everything around you turned into nothingness except for him, the slapping of skin on skin, both of your heavy breathing, panting, and moaning.

The sight of you underneath him was enough for him to hold out on his orgasm. Jaehyun wanted to show you just how badly he wanted you. Your tits bounce perfectly as he pounds into you. The moans coming out of your mouth, his name rolling easily off your tonuge. He leans foward, his forehead against yours, as he perfectly hits your g-spot. “ohmygod, fuck right there, daddy don’t stop. please don’t stop!” you pleaded as you clenched your walls around him coming undone, stars blurring your vision.

You could tell Jaehyun was nowhere near his orgasm as he slows his movements down. “You’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” he kisses your lips softly and moves again Everything was too much for you, but you loved the feeling of his cock in you.

“Jae please, I don’t think I can take it anymore.” you stated as you have tears in your eyes.

“You’re doing so well baby. Oh so good for daddy. Can you hold on for one more? Just one more princess.” You nodded your head the best you could as he flipped you over onto all fours. You tried your best to hold yourself up, but as always without warning, Jaehyun rams into you, making the new position feel bliss. You collpased into the bed as you muffled your screams and moans into the pillow. He grabbed your hair, pulling you up to his bare chest.

“You like this don’t you princess. No one has ever made you feel this good huh?” your brain turned into puddle as you try to look for words. You feel your legs begin to tremble as his thrust start to become uneven.

“Yes daddy I love your cock stretching me out.”

“I can’t believe we never fucked until now.” he says in between breaths before reaching down to rub your clit. “Cum with me baby.”

With one final thrust he releases into you filling you up as you reached your fourth orgasm of the night.

He kisses between your shoulder blades before collapsing next to you. You two lay there for a moment catching your breaths.

You were the first to break the silence, “That was amazing.” You turned to face him as you see sweat glistening over his body and his hair sticking to his forehead. How could he look so damn attractice after sex. You no longer felt intoxicated from alochol, but intoxicated from Jaehyun instead. You two look at each other before he pulls you to him and cups your face. He presses his soft plump lips onto yours. From what was hunger a minute ago, was replaced with gentleness and love.

After your last relationship, you didn’t know if you would ever fall in love again, but in the last couple of months, you realized you fell in love with your best friend without meaning to. Or maybe you had always loved him since the first day you two talked. Unbeknownist to you, he was already in love with you from the moment he laid his eyes on you.

“I love you.” he quietly says as he strokes your hair mindlessly. You look at your interwined hands as a smile crept up on your face. You looked up at him, “I love you too Jung Jaehyun.” He looks at you with loving eyes as you give him another kiss and falling asleep in his arms.

It was 7 in the morning as you had a throbbing headache. The memories of last night still lingered in the air as Jaehyun’s arms are wrapped tightly around you. You felt safe with him and you wondered how did you ever get so lucky to have him in your life.

There was a loud banging on the door and you remembered that you both fallen asleep at Mark and Johnny’s house. “Hey! Get up! Come and help clean up this house!” Mark yells.

Jaehyun groaned at the loud banging and held you tighter. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Good morning cutie” you say as you give him a morning kiss. His eyes flutter open as a smile crept on his face. “Good morning beautiful.” He snuggles his nose against the crook of your neck. You try to get up to get dress when Jaehyun grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him.

“Jae we have to go. I’m pretty sure the person who lives in this room wants his room back.”

“Eh Mark can wait. It’s not like he can make do the dishes when I do them every night.”

“Huh?” you look at him confused.

He realizes your confusion and chuckles. “The guys asked me to move in with them a couple of months ago. I thought I told you or at least one of them did.”

You gave him a are you serious right now look and pout. You smacked his chest lightly, “No they did not and neither did you!”

He laughs wholeheartedly and pretends to be hurt.

“I’m sorry princess.” He gives you a kiss to the lips. “I was so lost in being in love with you, I forgot to mention it. What can I do to make it up to you?” he kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, and finally your lips. He lingers there for a second before a smirk is plastered on his face. “Want to go for round two?” he wiggles his eyebrows and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jae I love you, but I’m sore.”

“I’ll be gentle I promise.”

Without waiting for a response, he climbs on top of you.

Far in the distance, Mark is heard pounding on another door asking for help to clean the house.

#jaehyun #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun smut #nct fanfics jaehyun #jaehyun fic #jaehyun au #jaehyun x reader #nct fic #nct au #jaehyun fluff #nct smut #jaehyun imagines #not sure abut this one lol

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

I’m Just your problem (But please tell me i’m a winner)

Okay so in my defense of this story, you didn’t actually say who you wanted to be the center of the story. And I kind of got inspired the second I heard the song and just ran with it. It’s a one shot about and staring Lila. So... yeah. Hope you enjoy it though. @abrx2002

I’m the winner!

Lila knew it didn’t have to be like this. It never had to be like this. She didn’t want to bury Marinette in the ground but little Miss Goodie Goodie just couldn’t leave well enough alone. So now Lila had to bury her with just a few words.

She couldn’t been Marinette’s friend. She wanted to be Marinette’s friend. Before even meeting the girl, the entire class had spun a tale of just how fabulous Marinette was. Lila had looked forward to meeting her, becoming her friend, and using her power to rule the class and school together. They could’ve both won. It would’ve been easy.

Too easy apparently.

Because never, not even, once did Marinette want to be her friend. She never even gave Lila a chance. Lila the villain in Marinette’s story as far as the other girl was concerned.

Nice guys finish last.

That’s why I win.

I’m the winner.

The Little princess in pink swore she just didn’t like liars. But everyone told lies, even the perfect Marinette. (Especially Marinette) It was a fact. So why was Lila the one she called out? What was so wrong with Lila that Marinette couldn’t just leave well enough alone.

“Marinette didn’t like liars,” Lila scoffed. “Or maybe she just doesn’t like me!”

Which was a blow to the Italian girl’s pride. Because Marinette liked everyone. She gave everyone chances. Even Chloe! The girl who bullied Marinette and everyone else in class far worse than Lila could’ve considering doing herself. If a spoiled rotten girl like Chloe deserved another chance (and another and another and another) but Lila didn’t get one, how rotten did Marinette think Lila was?

Maybe the lies weren’t the problem like Lila suspected. Maybe the issue was that she didn’t bow and cater to Marinette’s everywhere like the rest of the class seemed to do. They treated her like some goddess.

Is that what Marinette wanted? Did she wanted Lila to worship at her feet? Treat her like she’s perfect like her stupid little friends did? Loyal little lackeys that they are.

Were, Lila thought viciously. A few grand tales, some golden promises and they were at my beck and call. I won.

How’s that for friendship, Maribrat? How does it feel to know the friends you cared so much about turned on you with just a few words. Does it hurt? Does it sting?

Will you finally admit I’m better?

I’m worthy?

That I won?

Am I worthy of your friendship now?

Lila thought Marinette would stop then. After she turned everyone in class against her. Used the faculty’s foolishness to get the Marinette expelled. (Though it was reversed). The girl had lost everything. What was hers was Lila’s now. From bestie Alya, to meek pushover Adrien, to her place at center of class’s love and affection. It was Lila’s now. Because Lila won.

And the Italian girl thought it was a matter of time before Marinette came crawling back. A bit of time before she stopped calling out Lila for lying and just went with it. If she did, then Lila would be benevolent enough to stop accusing her of being a bully, coach the class into re-friending the poor sorry Marinette.

It never happened. Instead of begging and pleading to be Lila’s friend like Lila expected.

Wanted.

Needed.

Admit defeat.

Admit I beat you.

Admit that I won.

Marinette stopped looking hurt at all the nasty words her friends (Ex-friends, Lila thought viciously) were spitting at her, the girl started smiling at her phone, texting, giggling. She hardly ever batted an eye anymore. The only times she called Lila out on her lies was when Lila said anything directly involving Marinette.

She seemed to wash her hands of her classmates. Lila could only watch as she befriended other students from other classes. Classes where Lila had no influence. Friends that didn’t fall easily to little small fibs.

Friends that were smarter that her last ones.

More loyal.

Better.

While the class rightfully worshiped at Lila’s feet now, Marinette moved on to bigger and better things. She played a new game; one that Lila couldn’t win.

It wasn’t fair!

I already won!

Me! I did.

I won!

Student council. Fashion Club. Powered, a club for future female CEOs. She started her own design website. She went on amazing trips and met people Lila could only dreaming of meeting and constantly lied about. Marinette slowly but surely became one of the most popular girls in school.

While I dwindled in mediocrity.

Forced to deal with her stupid ex-friends.

Forced to only lie about things I’ve done.

Forced to watch you do them.

Forced to watch you rise like a star.

Forced to watch you WIN.

Marinette would have rather befriend the entire school, everyone and their entire mother, than to debase herself by admitting defeat and bending to Lila’s whims, getting her friends back in the process. Nope. She rather waste her befriending insignificant morons than be Lila’s friend. It was proof alone how much she hated Lila.

She just used the lies as excuse to cover up the thousands of reason she must’ve hated Lila. Marinette didn’t want Lila to apologize for lying.

She wants me to apologize for not being like her!

Sweet. Perfect. Angelic.

Sorry, that Lila wasn’t made of sugar, spice, and everything. Sorry that’s the stupid reason for anyone to not like someone. To go out of their way to avoid them.

Anyone else would crumble at what Lila threw at them.

They had.

Three. Four. Five. Girls

All were left nothing more than a puddle of tears after I was done with them.

I beat them all!

I won.

But Marinette had gone from those, precious hurt and betrayed faces, to looking at everyone in class like they were just an inconvenience. Like Lila was a minor inconvenience to her day.

But I had won!

I know it!

She can’t just play a new game.

I won.

Every day, she looked through Lila like people look at extra credit math problems in a class your already Acing. She could solve it, put in some minor effort, and fix it but what was the point? Marinette clearly had better things to do than to worry about her ex-friends, her ex-crush, about Lila; minor little problems in her otherwise PERFECT little life.

Lila was just a problem to Marinette. Not a friend, not an enemy anymore, just a stupid little problem. Not even a real person. Just a problem, she couldn’t even be bothered with anymore.

No! Marinette was too busy being elected Spring Queen at the Sweethearts dance.

Too busy on Claude, the star football play, the future Oscar-winning film maker, the most popular guy in school’s arm. The king to her Queen.

And to think Lila had be waiting, patiently, so very patiently, to see the devastated look on Maribrat’s face when she got to the dance and saw…

Adrien and Lila were at the dance, together, as dates; the perfect couple. Marinette was suipossed to be so, SO, heartbroken.

She never batted an eye.

She even told Lila how nice she looked.

And then went on her way. Because Lila wasn’t worth anymore of her time or energy. Like Lila hadn’t taken everything from her.

Like I hadn’t won.

Like I hadn’t beat her.

I did. I know I did.

I beat everyone.

I win at everything.

Marinette just wasn’t playing right.

It was the last time Marinette looked her way the entire night. She was too busy with her perfect friend, her perfect boyfriend, living her stupid perfect life. Being crowned Queen. Lila had broken every mirror and reflect surface in her room. If Marinette didn’t want to look at her problem than neither did Lila.

This wasn’t how winners acted…

After the dance, Lila had tried to get closer to the other kids in school, Marinette’s friends. But they didn’t bat at an eye at her. Had only given the barest looks of amusement, and pity, at her attempts.

It got so bad that Lila almost believed the lie she told the class about Marinette turning the school against her.

Truthfully she knew that Marinette couldn’t have been bothered to. She was too busy. Too busy to worry about the drama in their stupid little class.

Stupid busy for me!

No, she went on her day like Lila didn’t exist.

I exist, damn you.

I’m here.

And I beat you.

I won!

The more she ignored Lila the worst Lila got the class to treat her. Exile her. Got them to get Bustier to get kick Marinette off the school field trips.

Not that it bother Marinette. She just stopped helping fund raise. Went on jaw-dropping trips with her new friends. Ignored the sneers and glares from her ex-friends. Like nothing bother her. None of them matter.

None of them were important enough to matter to her! Lila wasn’t important enough to matter to the great Marinette.

Is this how you treat people who beat you, huh, Maribrat?

You ignore them?

Pretend they’re not there.

SO you can pretend I didn’t win!

Lila wasn’t going to apologize for beating her fair and square. She wasn’t going to stop lying, tell the truth, and beg for Marinette’s friendship. Because what would that really do?

It would be a forfeit.

It would mean I didn’t win.

And really it wasn’t like she did anything wrong, right? If anything Marinette should be thanking Lila for revealing the true colors of her so-called friends, of her crush. Not that Lila was trying to justify anything. Because she didn’t have to.

I won, after all.

Lila won so Marinette shouldn’t be ignoring her in class, right? She shouldn’t act like nothing Lila did phased her. Like Lila didn’t exist. Lila shouldn’t have to be the one to make amends, right?

History is written by the victors.

And I won!

It wouldn’t matter even if she did. Marinette had always hated her, had always been out to get her, had disliked her the moment she laid eyes on Lila just like Ladybug.

Lila had always been on Marinette’s blacklist. And she had done so many things, she couldn’t even remember what landed her there in the first place. It was something stupid, probably. Something so minor, some little lie that Marinette was to uppity to forgive, to let go of.

It was her problem, not mine.

It was all Marinette’s fault, right? It was all her fault! So NO! Lila wouldn’t admit defeat. She wouldn’t stop lying. So why do I want to…

Lila would rub everything she took from Marinette into the other girl’s face. Maribrat would break eventually. They always do. They have to, right? No one could deal with losing so much in such a short while. She’ll admit she was wrong, right? That She should’ve bowed down and accepted Lila as her friend, as the class’s new sweetheart. She’d admit Lila won then, right? Lila beat her. Lila was and is and always will be the winner.

I won!

I beat her.

So there! Lila won, that was it. That was how the game ended and how the story would too. She’d marry Adrien, make Alya her maid of honor just to rub it in Marinette’s face that Lila had everything she ever dreamed of.

Then she’d admit Lila’s won. Because Lila always wins! She already won, after all. Marinette just refused to be a good little loser and admit it…

Lila won.

I’m the winner, right?

#ml salt #lila salt #lila bashing #lila rossi #minor adrien salt #minor class salt #class salt

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mellowswriting · 3 years

Note

Hey I saw your requests are open! I love the quarantine series! I’ve been on a Marcus pike kick lately and I’ve been super stressed about college and my work load trying to graduate😩 I’d love to hear your interpretation of Marcus when his girl is going through this cause you know he’s 💕that guy💕 - how he’d help you relax and everything... maybe even some smut if you’re feeling up to it 👀

Take a Break

pairing || Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

summary || Marcus helps you relax after college stress

word count || 2,369

warnings || Explicit Sexual Content (fingering, praise kink, soft dom!Marcus, allusions to p in v sex), stressed out reader, Marcus to the rescue, domestic fluff, ‘good girl’, no use of y/n

a/n || As a college student who is also ready to explode from school stress, this was cathartic as hell to write. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | Join the taglist!

Your cursor hovered over the submit button. This research paper had been the center of your academic focus for nearly three months and had taken up the majority of your energy for far too long. Once that damn paper was submitted, you could breathe easy for a while and not have to see statistics and graphs in your sleep anymore. So you took a deep breath and hit the button, relishing in the relief that washed over you - for approximately three seconds.

There were still assignments to be worked on, textbook chapters to read and take notes on, and you just wanted to throw your laptop into the ocean instead. Fuck it all. In that moment, all of your progress and hard work and the finish line that was so damn close really didn’t seem to matter. You would rather hide under your blankets for the last month of the semester than even think about philosophy notes or biology tests.

But you couldn’t.

There was no way in hell you were going to let the last two years of hard work and a solid grade point average go down the drain, especially when you had a summer well on its way where you could relish in not having academic responsibilities. You rubbed a hand down your face with a frustrated sigh and put your textbook down on your desk - maybe just a bit harder than necessary, because the door creaked open a few moments later.

“How’s the paper going, honey?” Oh, Marcus. Your sweet, sweet Marus, who’s words were already making tears of frustration prick your eyes.

“It’s finished. I just turned it in.” You said, your voice devoid of the usual pride that followed a well-written assignment, and flipped open the book in front of you.

Marcus’s hands fell to your shoulders as he stood behind your chair and started rubbing, those strong fingers working the tension from your muscles. “What are you doing then?”

“I still have a ton of shit that needs to get done. Notes and a ton of reading, and I have to study -” You cut yourself off with a heaved breath. The stress was getting to you, you could recognize that, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the anxiety of impending deadlines, even if you still had plenty of time and wiggle room to get them finished.

Marcus paused. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you like this, and he wasn’t about to discount what you were feeling by telling you to relax or something else equally as stupid. “Okay, how about you come have lunch with me? You need a break. You can’t be productive when you’re burnt out. Maybe we can talk it out, help you come up with a plan.”

It took a moment for you to convince yourself that it was okay to leave your desk, to focus on something that wasn’t your classes for a little bit. When you nodded, Marcus smiled at you bright enough to melt some of the frustration. Unbeknownst to you, he had a little something planned.

If there was anything true in the world, it was that Marcus Pike was the best man the world had ever seen. The stress you were feeling had been building up for the past week, growing heavier with each moment that it went unchecked, and he could tell. It was obvious in the way you held yourself, in the way that all the sleep in the world didn’t help the tired look in your eyes. He knew he could do nothing to help with the actual classwork itself, but he could do whatever it took to ease the stress.

So the moment you essentially chained yourself to your desk, Marcus set about with his plan. First, he tackled the housework. He cleaned the kitchen and living room until they were spotless, grateful that your headphones blocked out the sound of the vacuum and kept his little project a secret. Then he cooked up your favorite meal and lit your candles in the living room, leaving the space warm and homey.

The surprise on your face was worth all of the effort. You buried your face in his shirt to hide the tears of appreciation that sprung into your eyes, your fingers fisted in the fabric as you tried not to full on cry at his sweet gesture. You sniffled a quiet laugh before you wiped the wetness away from your face.

“God, what would I do without you?” You pulled him close for a kiss, one he reciprocated eagerly. Those big, warm hands of his settled on your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweet little circles against your cheekbones.

“I find myself asking the same thing everyday I get to wake up next to your pretty face.” He whispered against your lips and gave you one last kiss before he guided you to sit on the couch with your soft throw blanket tucked around your shoulders.

“Marcus… you didn’t have to do all this…” You murmured as he handed you a plate and settled in next to you with his own.

“Of course I did,” He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your calf. “Besides, this isn’t even everything.”

You captured his hand in your own. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you, too.” Marcus chirped with a smile, lifting your joined hands to kiss your knuckles. “Now eat up, you need your energy.”

Never in your life had you felt more appreciated, more taken care of, and apparently this wasn’t all he had planned. He finished eating before you - you swear, that man practically inhales food - and he drew your feet into his lap to gently massage the arches. It didn’t take him long to ease the stress of the looming workload. Somehow, he always managed to find the perfect words to remind you just how capable you are and that you were on the right track.

You set your plate down on the coffee table and slid closer to Marcus’s side, all too ready to curl up with your lover and spend the rest of the day soaking in the bliss that flowed from him, but he was quick to stand and urge you to your feet. The moment of confusion dissipated when he led you to the bathroom, where he had laid out the makings of your favorite stress reliever - a bubble bath.

“Oh, Marcus.” You sighed as he began filling the huge tub, already stripping out of your clothes in excitement. “You better get in there with me.”

“But this is supposed to be about you, not me.” Marcus said with a small shrug.

“I’ll enjoy it even more if I have my man with me,” You purred, stepping into his space in only your bra and underwear to press a lingering kiss to his lips. The surprised hum he gave you made a little thrill fly through you. “Please, baby?”

“Anything for you.” Marcus smiled as he reached around to undo your bra and pull the straps down your arms, moving on to curl his fingers under the hem of your underwear and tug them down as well. He kissed your thigh when you moved to step out of them.

Marcus yanked his clothes off with no flair and stepped into the steaming bath, settling into the water so quickly that it damn near sloshed over the sides of the tub. He reached for you and you couldn’t help but smile. It was precious, the way he guided you into his lap amidst the bubbles and pulled you close against his chest.

Little kisses were peppered along your shoulder and up your neck, the heat already working at your sore back. Marcus’s hands slid up your belly, cupped beneath your breast to hold you close, and the combination of his presence with the heat and soft floral scent of the bubbles had your worries slipping into the background.

“I missed this.” You murmured as you melted against him, your head lolled back on his shoulder. It had been far too long since you felt peace like that. Marcus’s fingers rubbed soft patterns into your skin and you were in heaven.

“Me too,” He kissed your temple and you could feel the smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Marcus.” You looked up at him. He seemed just as relaxed as you felt, his head tilted back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed. “You make me feel sane in the midst of all this stress. I don’t know what I would do without your support. You’re such a good man.”

Marcus whined low in his throat. Your praise always did something to him, lit a fire in his belly and made him want to squirm with happiness. All he ever wanted was to make you happy, make you feel as cherished and loved as he possibly could, at least as much as you made him feel. Normally he was good with his words. He could wax poetic about how much he loved you and how he was the luckiest man alive with you by his side, but your sweetness left him dumbstruck.

Since his mouth couldn’t form the words he wanted to say, he used it to lavish your bare skin with kisses as he rubbed at your tense muscles, your skin slick with the soapy water. He could feel the small moan he worked from your body and smirked - he absolutely lived for those little sounds, the ones that told him he was making you feel relaxed and happy. Your hands slipped down his thighs that bracketed your body and began mimicking the circles he massaged you with.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one helping you relax, sweetheart?” Marcus teased despite the way his cock was slowly hardening at the small of your back, only provoked further by the light drag of your nails along his thighs.

“Can you think of a better way to relax?” You teased right back as you arched back slightly to grind against him, using your hands on his thighs to support yourself. Marcus inhaled sharply and you could feel the subtle way his hips pressed up to meet your movements. Need began to build low in your belly.

“Are you sure?” Marcus rasped and at your nod, his hands slipped around to your front, one hand settling low between your hips to firmly hold you against him, the other trailing down to cup your sex. Your low gasp made him hum, a dark tone that you recognized from those moments he took you apart piece by piece in the comfort of your bed. “Are you feeling needy, baby?”

“Always need you.” You spread your thighs, bracing your feet between the sides of the tub and his legs to support your desperate little grinds against his fingers. His middle finger curled to glide up to your clit but he didn’t give you the friction you craved, that damn tease. “C’mon, make me feel good. Please?”

The desperate quality your voice had taken on was enough to make Marcus moan against your neck, his tongue shooting out to wet his lips before he whispered in your ear. “I’m gonna make you come before I get you in that bed. A little reward for all your hard work, hm?”

Before you could even whine out your need for his promised reward, he finally began moving his finger against your clit and pleasure flooded you, leaving you to meet his movements with little circles of your waist. Marcus would usually tease you at least a little before delving in and drowning you in pleasure until your legs were shaking and your mind was left blank, but he seemed to be in a giving mood after all of your efforts. Every pass of his fingers over your clit had that tension pull tighter, your pussy tightening around nothing. You ached for something to fill you, his fingers, his cock, you didn’t care. The relief of pleasure after so much stress had your release building faster than you were used to, and your hands fumbled for purchase to keep you grounded to reality as Marcus worked you closer and closer to orgasm.

One hand clutched at his wrist, desperate to keep him right where you had him, and the other found itself buried in Marcus’s hair. He angled his head to give your better access, letting you grab at him to be your anchor, kissing up your neck and placing his lips right at your ear.

“Good girl,” He rumbled, chuckling at your sweet little gasp. “Such a good girl for me. You gonna cum all over my fingers, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. That's it.”

“Oh god, Marcus…” You gasp in that pleading tone that made something possessive bloom in his belly and he redoubled his efforts, taking your earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly. “Fuck!”

Water sloshed over the sides of the tub with the intense way you jerked against him, your orgasm cracking through you like a sharp flash of lightning, arcing and splintering up your spine and leaving you wrapped in a warm haze. You trembled against his chest, your legs snapping closed around his hand as he slowed his movements until his fingers were completely still. The warm water eased you even further into that sweet headspace of your afterglow, made more sweet by the kisses and praise your lover pressed into your skin.

“You still with me?” Marcus murmured and you looked up at him with that dazed look he absolutely adored. At the sight of your pursed lips, he leaned down and kissed you, slow and languid as he let you find yourself again. Wandering hands helped ease you back down to earth, his strong hands working at your already loose muscles. “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

You whined quietly at his praise, curling closer for more kisses and affection, only to whine again when he pulled away. “Please?”

Marcus chuckled. “Fine, but I’m getting you in that bed in a few minutes. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @sarahjkl82-blog @a-skov @himbotroy @marvelousmermaid

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction

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path-of-my-childhood · 3 years

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Aaron Dessner on How His Collaborative Chemistry With Taylor Swift Led to “Evermore”

By: Claire Shaffer for Rolling Stone Date: December 18th 2020

Taylor Swift and Aaron Dessner didn’t expect to make another record so soon after Folklore. As they were putting the final touches on Swift’s album this past summer, the two artists had been collaborating remotely on possible songs for Big Red Machine, Dessner’s music project with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver (who also dueted with Swift on the Folklore track “Exile”). Dessner recalls:

“I think I’d written around 30 of those instrumentals in total. So when I started sharing them with Taylor over the months that we were working on Folklore, she got really into it, and she wrote two songs to some of that music.”

One was “Closure,” an experimental electronic track in 5/4 time signature that was built over a staccato drum kit. The other song was “Dorothea,” a rollicking, Americana piano tune. The more Dessner listened to them, the more he realized that they were continuations of Folklore‘s characters and stories. But the real turning point came soon after Folklore‘s surprise release in late July, when Dessner wrote a musical sketch and named it “Westerly,” after the town in Rhode Island where Swift owns the house previously occupied by Rebekah Harkness.

“I didn’t really think she would write something to it — sometimes I’ll name songs after my friends’ hometowns or their babies, just because I write a lot of music and you have to call it something, and then I’ll send it to them. But, anyway, I sent it to her, and not long after she wrote ‘Willow’ to that song and sent it back.”

It was a moment not unlike when Swift first sent him the song “Cardigan” back in the spring, where both she and Dessner felt an instant creative spark — and then just kept writing. Before long, they were creating even more songs with Vernon, Jack Antonoff, Dessner’s brother Bryce, and “William Bowery” (the pseudonym of Swift’s boyfriend Joe Alwyn) for what would eventually lead to Folklore‘s wintry sister record, Evermore.

Even more spontaneous than the album that preceded it, Evermore features more eclectic production alongside Swift’s continued project of character-driven songwriting, and includes an even wider group of collaborators, like Haim and Dessner’s own band the National. Dessner spoke to Rolling Stone about the album’s experimentation, how it was recorded during the making of the doc The Long Pond Studio Sessions, and how he sees his collaboration with Swift continuing in the future.

When did you realize this was going to end up being another album?

It was after we’d written several songs, seven or eight or nine. Each one would happen, and we would both be in this sort of disbelief of this weird alchemy that we had unleashed. The ideas were coming fast and furiously and were just as compelling as anything on Folklore, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. At some point, Taylor wrote “Evermore” with William Bowery, and then we sent it to Justin, who wrote the bridge, and all of a sudden, that’s when it started to become clear that there was a sister record. Historically, there are examples of this, of records which came in close succession that I love — certain Dylan records, Kid A and Amnesiac. I secretly fell in love with the idea that this was part of the same current, and that these were two manifestations that were interrelated. And with Taylor, I think it just became clear to her what was happening. It really picked up steam, and at some point, there were 17 songs — because there are two bonus tracks, which I love just as much.

Evermore definitely sounds more experimental than Folklore, and has more variety — you have these electronic songs that sound like Bon Iver or Big Red Machine, but you also have the closest thing Taylor has written to country songs in the last decade. Was there a conscious effort on her part to branch out more with this album?

Sonically, the ideas were coming from me more. But I remember when I wrote the piano track to “Tolerate It,” right before I sent it to her, I thought, This song is intense. It’s in 10/8, which is an odd time signature. And I did think for a second, “Maybe I shouldn’t send it to her, she won’t be into it.” But I sent it to her, and it conjured a scene in her mind, and she wrote this crushingly beautiful song to it and sent it back. I think I cried when I first heard it. But it just felt like the most natural thing, you know? There weren’t limitations to the process. And in these places where we were pushing into more experimental sounds or odd time signatures, that just felt like part of the work.

It was really impressive to me that she could tell these stories as easily in something like “Closure” as she could in a country song like “Cowboy Like Me.” Obviously, “Cowboy Like Me” is much more familiar, musically. But to me, she’s just as sharp and just as masterful in her craft in either of those situations. And also, just in terms of what we were interested in, there is a wintry nostalgia to a lot of the music that was intentional on my part. I was leaning into the idea that this was fall and winter, and she’s talked about that as well, that Folklore feels like spring and summer to her and Evermore is fall and winter. So that’s why you hear sleigh bells on “Ivy,” or why some of the imagery in the songs is wintery.

I can hear that in the guitar on “‘Tis the Damn Season,” too. It almost sounds like the National with that very icy guitar line.

I mean, that is literally like, me in my most natural state. [laughs] If you hand me a guitar, that’s what it sounds like when I start playing it. People associate that sound with the National, but that’s just because I finger-pick an electric guitar like that a lot — if you solo the guitar on “Mr. November,” it’s not unlike that.

That song, to me, has always felt nostalgic or like some sort of longing. And the song that Taylor wrote is so instantly relatable, you know, “There’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me.” I remember when she sang that to me in my kitchen — she had written it overnight during The Long Pond Studio Sessions, actually.

Did she record all her Evermore vocals at Long Pond while you were filming the Studio Sessions documentary?

Not all of them, but most of them. She stayed after we were done filming and then we recorded a lot. It was crazy because we were getting ready to make that film, but at the same time, these songs were accumulating. And so we thought, “Hmm, I guess we should just stay and work.”

On “Closure,” there are parts where Taylor’s vocals are filtered through the Messina, which is this vocal modifier that Justin Vernon uses a lot in his work with Bon Iver. How were you able to modify her vocals with it, if she was never in the same room as Justin?

I went to see Justin at one point — that’s the one trip I’ve made — and we worked together at his place on stuff. He plays the drums on “Cowboy Like Me” and “Closure,” and he plays guitar and banjo and sings on “Ivy,” and sings on “Marjorie” and “Evermore.” And then we processed Taylor’s vocals through his Messina chain together. He was really deeply involved in this record, even more so than the last record. He’s always been such a huge help to me, and not just by getting him to play stuff or sing stuff — I can also send him things and get his feedback. We’ve done a ton of work together, but we have different perspectives and different harmonic brains. He obviously has his own studio set up at home, but it was nice to be able to see him and work on this stuff.

“No Body, No Crime” is also really interesting, just because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you produce a song like that. How did this country murder ballad featuring Haim end up on the record?

Taylor wrote that one alone and sent me a voice memo of her playing guitar — she wrote it on this rubber-bridge guitar that I got for her. It’s the same kind I play on “Invisible String.” So she wrote “No Body, No Crime” and sent me a voice memo of it, and then I started building on that. It’s funny, because the music I’ve listened to the most in my life are things that are more like that — roots music, folk music, country music, old-school rock & roll, the Grateful Dead. It’s not really the sound of the National or other things I’ve done, but it feels like a warm blanket.

That song also had a lot of my friends on it — Josh Kaufman, who played harmonica on “Betty,” also plays harmonica on this one and some guitar. JT Bates plays the drums on that song — he’s an amazing jazz guitarist, but he also has an incredible feel [for rhythm] when it comes to a song like that. He also played the drums on “Dorothea.” And then Taylor had specific ideas from the beginning about references and how she wanted it to feel, and that she wanted the Haim sisters to sing on it. We had them record the song with Ariel Reichshaid, they sent that from L.A., and then we put it together when Taylor was here [at Long Pond]. They’re an incredible band, and it was another situation where we were like, “Well, this happened.” It felt like this weird little rock & roll history anecdote.

You also brought on the National to record “Coney Island.” What was that process like, where you’re recording a song with your band that’s for a different artist?

I had been working on a bunch of music with my brother [Bryce Dessner], some of which we were sending to Taylor also. At that stage, “Coney Island” was all the music except the drums. And as I was writing it, I don’t think I was ever thinking, “This sounds like the National or this sounds like Big Red Machine or this sounds like something totally different.” But Taylor and William Bowery wrote this incredible song, and we first recorded it with just her vocals. It has this really beautiful arc to the story, and I think it’s one of the strongest, lyrically and musically. But listening to the words, we all collectively realized that this does feel like the most related to the National — it almost feels like a story Matt [Berninger] might tell, or I could hear Bryan [Devendorf] playing the drum part.

So we started talking about how it would be cool to get the band, and I called Matt and he was excited for it. We got Bryan to play drums and we got Scott [Devendorf] to play bass and a pocket piano, and Bryce helped produce it. It’s weird, because it does really feel like Taylor, obviously, since she and William Bowery wrote all the words, but it also feels like a National song in a good way. I love how Matt and Taylor sound together. And it was nice because we haven’t played a show in a year, and I don’t know when we will again. You kind of lose track of each other, so in a way, it was nice to reconnect.

When working on Folklore, you had to keep most of your collaborators in the dark about who you were working with. What was the process like this time around, now that everyone knew it was Taylor? How did you keep it a secret?

It was hard. We had to be secretive because of how much people are consuming every shred of information they can find about her, and that’s been an oppressive reality she’s had to deal with. But the fact that no one in the public knew allowed for more freedom of enjoying the process. A lot of the same musicians that played on Folklore played on Evermore. Again, it was a situation where I didn’t tell them what it was, and they couldn’t hear her vocals, but I think a lot of them assumed, especially because of the level of secrecy. [laughs] But as funny as this is, I think everyone who’s been involved has been grateful for these records to play on this year and is proud of them. It kind of just doesn’t happen, to make two great records in such a short period of time. Everyone’s a little bit like, “How did this happen?” and nobody takes it for granted.

Taylor has mentioned that you recorded “Happiness” just a week before the album was released. Was that something you guys wrote, recorded, and produced all at the last minute, or was it something you’d been sitting on for a while before you finally cracked the code?

There were two songs like that. One is a bonus track called “Right Where You Left Me,” and the other one was “Happiness,” which she wrote literally days before we were supposed to master. That’s similar to what happened with Folklore, with “The 1” and “Hoax,” which she wrote days before. We mixed all the tracks here, and it’s a lot to mix 17 songs, it’s like a Herculean task. And it was funny, because I walked into the studio and Jon Low, our engineer here, was mixing and had been working the whole time toward this. And I came in and he’s in the middle of mixing and I was like, “There are two more songs.” And he looked at me like, “…We’re not gonna make it.” Because it does take a lot of time to work out how to finish them.

But she sang those remotely. And the music for “Happiness” is something that I had been working on since last year. I had sang a little bit on it, too — I thought it was a Big Red Machine song, but then she loved the instrumental and ended up writing to it. Same with the other one, “Right Where You Left Me” — it was something I had written right before I went to visit Justin, because I thought, “Maybe we’ll make something when we’re together there.” And Taylor had heard that and wrote this amazing song to it. That is a little bit how she works — she writes a lot of songs, and then at the very end she sometimes writes one or two more, and they often are important ones.

My favorite song on the album is “Marjorie,” and I feel like, for most artists, the instinct would be to present a song like that as a somber piano ballad. But “Marjorie” has this lively electronic beat that runs through it — it literally sounds alive. How did you come up with that?

It’s interesting, because with “Marjorie,” that’s a track that actually existed for a while, and you can hear elements of it behind the song “Peace.” This weird drone that you hear on “Peace,” if you pay attention to the bridge of “Marjorie,” you’ll hear a little bit of that in the distance. Some of what you hear is from my friend Jason Treuting playing percussion, playing these chord sticks, that he actually made for a piece that my brother wrote called “Music for Wooden Strings.” They’re playing these chord sticks, and you can hear those same chord sticks on the National song “Quiet Light.”

I collect a lot of rhythmic elements like that, and all kinds of other sounds, and I give them to my friend Ryan Olson, who’s a producer from Minnesota and has been developing this crazy software called Allovers Hi-Hat Generator. It can take sounds, any sounds, and split them into identifiable sound samples, and then regenerate them in randomized patterns that are weirdly very musical. There’s a lot of new Big Red Machine songs that use those elements. But I’ll go through it and find little parts that I like and loop them. That’s how I made the backing rhythm of “Marjorie.” Then I wrote a song to it, and Taylor wrote to that. In a weird way, it’s one of the most experimental songs on the album — it doesn’t sound that way, but when you pick apart the layers underneath it, it’s pretty interesting.

I do have to ask: How did you come to find out about William Bowery’s real identity as Joe Alwyn? Or did you know all along?

I guess I can say now that I’ve sort of known all along — I was just being careful. Although we never really explicitly talked about it. But I do think it’s been really special to see a number of songs on these albums that they wrote together. William plays the piano on “Evermore,” actually. We recorded that remotely. That was really important to me and to them, to do that, because he also wrote the piano part of “Exile,” but on the record, it’s me playing it because we couldn’t record him easily. But this time, we could. I just think it’s an important and special part of the story.

Do you have a personal favorite song or a moment that you’re proudest of?

“‘Tis the Damn Season” is a really special song to me for a number of reasons. When I wrote the music to it, which was a long time ago, I remember thinking that this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever made, even though it’s an incredibly simple musical sketch. But it has this arc to it, and there’s this simplicity in the minimalism of it and the kind of drum programming in there, and I always loved the tone of that guitar. When Taylor played the track and sang it to me in my kitchen, that was a highlight of this whole time. That track felt like something I have always loved and could have just stayed music, but instead, someone of her incredible storytelling ability and musical ability took it and made something much greater. And it’s something that we can all relate to. It was a really special moment, not unlike how it felt when she wrote “Peace,” but even more so.

Do you see this collaboration with Taylor continuing onward, to more albums or Big Red Machine projects?

It’s kind of the thing where I have so many musicians in my life that I’ve grown close to, and make things with, and are just part of my life. And I’ve rarely had this kind of chemistry with anyone in my life — to be able to write together, to make so many beautiful songs together in such a short period of time. Inevitably, I think we will continue to be in each other’s artistic and personal lives. I don’t know exactly what the next form that will take, but certainly, it will continue.

I do think this story, this era, has concluded, and I think in such a beautiful way with these sister records — it does kind of feel like there’s closure to that. But she’s definitely been very helpful and engaged with Big Red Machine, and just in general. She feels like another incredible musician that I’ve gotten to know and am lucky to have in my life. It’s this whole community that moves forward and takes risks and, hopefully, there will be other records that appear in the future.

#cute #Aaron Dessner #interview #about taylor #taylor swift #Rolling Stone magazine #making of #evermore album #evermore era

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

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Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 1

on the inevitability of dating a frat bro

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: light angst, fluff, cheating, alcohol, swearing, minor injury

AN: So!! I am REALLY excited about this fic, but it’s the first AOT piece I’ve ever written and the first piece I’ve posted at all in a WHILE. As of now, it can stand on its own as a mainly platonic/unrequited Levi x reader, but I have big ideas for potential expansion in the future! Please don’t hesitate to reblog/comment/send in an ask with any suggestions, questions, or feedback!! ~valkyrie

Palms slap flat against the door of your apartment as you stumble the last few steps, barely catching yourself before your right ankle twists out from under you. Sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you know it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker in the morning.

“Shitshitfuck ow,” you slur as you slide to the ground, back to the wall, short skirt bunching dangerously high on your thigh. Fumbling fingers go to the ankle strap of your right stiletto and pull fruitlessly on the ties. With a whine, you curse the forethought you had to double knot the thin cord when you were getting ready to go out earlier in the evening. Your tongue sits heavy and dry in your mouth as you lean your head back against the wall and press palms against your eyes until stars swim into your vision.

How the fuck did I end up here? you think with a soft hiccup, and all of a sudden you’re crying again.

As you sit in your apartment hallway, drunk and distraught and slowly freezing from the outside in, you recall the events of the night. Getting ready with Hange for girls’ night, meeting up with Sasha and Hitch at the new bar across town. Downing shots and cocktails until the worries of the week melted away, dancing until your feet ached and your eyes stung. Seeing your boyfriend across the dance floor making out with another woman. Correction, seeing your boyfriend making out with your best friend. Correction, seeing your ex-boyfriend practically fucking your former best friend in the middle of the goddamned club-

With that image freshly burned into your mind, you let out a gut-wrenching sob followed by a tremendous sniffle just as the apartment door opens.

A soft thump echoing through the apartment jerks Levi out of his light sleep. It takes him a second to remember you went out to your girls’ night, glancing over at his alarm clock. 2:17 am, sounds about right.

He rolls over and readjusts his sheets around him, determined to go back to sleep. It’s not uncommon for you to spend your weekend out with friends all night, and he learned a while ago that you’re perfectly capable of getting yourself showered and into bed after a night out. That’s one of the things Levi likes about living with you: you generally know how to stay out of his hair, and he doesn’t find himself caught up in yours.

When Hange had introduced you to him at the end of last semester as a potential roommate, he had been hesitant. In his book, anyone Hange approved of was bound to be at least slightly off their rocker, but he had been hoping to sign a lease for the next school year before leaving town, and after meeting you he felt willing to take a chance. He told himself it was because of your stellar recommendations from former roommates and respectable credit score, but the smallest part of his mind admitted it was also because of your pretty hands and intelligent eyes.

That day at his favorite tea shop when you had met up to sign the lease, he had asked you about your major and you had practically lit up with the way you spoke about the architecture degree you were pursuing. The pair of you had chatted all afternoon, discussing books and comparing experiences with professors in the art department. When you learned he was in the painting program at your university, you had grabbed one of his hands off the table in both of yours and examined it closely.

“You have painter’s hands,” you had proclaimed after a moment, turning his hand in yours and tracing the cracks in his palm lightly. “Just like my mom’s.”

Levi had simply sat there, stunned at how such a small gesture made his heart race and neck grow warm.

With a groan, Levi rolls back over in an effort to shake himself out of his turbulent thoughts. 2:19 glows green at him from his bedside table, and suddenly he’s struck with the realization that he hasn’t heard you actually come into the apartment, let alone close your bedroom door with your habitual sharp snap.

“Damn it to hell,” he mutters as he flicks on a beside lamp and stuffs feet into slippers. Careful to avoid knocking over the painting set to dry on the easel by his desk, he opens his bedroom door and hears the muffled sound of sobbing from the front door.

Levi stands in the doorframe in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, poking his head out into the hall. For a moment, he can only stare. He’s never seen you like this before, utterly dejected, scatter-brained, small, so unlike the confident woman in the tea shop.

“You look like shit,” he says plainly, the barest hint of concern in his voice.

You keep your eyes downcast and weakly flip him off, continuing to sob gently. At the lack of your usual backtalk, his expression slips from his usual impassivity to a sharp frown.

A delicate hand encircles your upheld wrist and you let it go limp in Levi’s grip as he crouches down next to you.

“Hey, hey, what happened? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?” His calm tone helps you focus your mind, and you manage to hiccup a response.

“G-god I’m an idiot,” you sniffle, and raise your eyes to barely meet his. His head is ducked to your level, and he’s crouching on the balls of his feet, one hand gripping your limp wrist and the other hesitantly reaching for your shoulder. “Just leave me out here to w-wallow, or better yet take me out with the t-trash, that’s obviously all I-I am,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

“Did someone tell you that? That you’re trash?” Levi asks sharply, dipping his head with yours in an effort to maintain eye contact.

Your bottom lip trembles and you sniffle again. Just under the delicate white noise of life, Levi can hear his heart break cleanly in two.

“It was more implied,” you supply weakly.

Levi sighs, then drops his hands and straightens up.

“Alright, up you get.” He extends his hand, and you stare at it for a second before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and gripping his warm hand with your freezing one. A solid pull later, you find yourself balancing in your heels, Levi’s hand gripping your elbow and the other around your waist. You mumble a thanks, and attempt a step on your right foot towards the door. The traitorous ankle buckles again and you cry out as you stumble once more. But this time Levi’s there to catch you against his chest, now fully supporting you at the waist.

“Ah, I forgot,” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Tch,” he clicks, gently chastising, and in a second he’s scooped an arm under your knees to carry you into the apartment. Vaguely, you wonder at how coordinated he is as he kicks the door shut and nudges the light switch with his elbow. Pretty buff for an art major, you muse, with your head laying against his chest and arms looped around his neck. How pathetic is this, can’t even walk into my own home.

He nudges his way into your room and casts his gaze around in the ambient glow of your desk lamp. You can tell he’s holding himself back from commenting on the clothes strewn across the extra chair by your closet and the lipstick-stained coffee cup sat atop a pile of textbooks on your desk, and you look down in embarrassment. There’s a reason you keep your door closed most of the time. Despite the mess, he successfully navigates across to your bed and gently puts you down, arranging your pillows behind you to support your back before disappearing into the living room again.

You take a moment to wipe at your eyes, sigh self-pityingly, and slouch down into your soft bed, not caring that you’re still fully dressed. Not only did you catch your boyfriend cheating, but you managed to wake up your (usually grumpy) roommate, reveal to him how messy you actually were, and injure yourself in the space of half an hour. Just about a record.

The shrill ringing of your phone breaks into the silence. As you’re digging through your purse to pull it out, you remember with a sinking feeling that you didn’t even tell the girls you were leaving the club, let alone what happened. You slide a shaky finger across the screen to accept the call and put it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hello? Where the fuck are you?” Hange’s loud voice makes you wince and hold the phone slightly away from your face.

“Oh god, I’m sorry Hange, I went home. S-something happened and I, well I just called an Uber and didn’t even think,” you finish lamely.

“What happened? Did you get home safe? Did someone hurt you? I swear to god-”

“Hange, I-”

“-rat bastard bartender was eyeing you all night I could’ve guessed he’d try something-”

“Hange!” She stops short and allows you to speak. “I got home safe. Levi’s here. I’m not hurt, the bartender didn’t try anything, I… I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?” You inject your tone with some bright optimism in an effort to assuage her panic. “Tell Sasha and Hitch not to worry, okay?”

Over her momentary silence on the other end of the line, you can hear traffic sounds and faint club music, as though she had stepped outside to call you. A strained sigh, then: “Okay. I’m glad you’re okay, but I’m still mad at you for not checking in before you left. Had me worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’d be mad too. Can you swing by tomorrow? And I’ll explain everything?” Your hand rubs down your face and you close your eyes in a guilty grimace.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” The call ends and you drop your phone down onto your bed where it bounces gently away from you.

When you open your eyes again, Levi is standing in the door holding a cup of tea, his other hand cupped around something, studying you with uncertainty. You sit up hesitantly against your headboard, surprised. You’d figured he went back to bed and left you to put yourself to bed as you usually did.

He crosses the room with his smooth gait, and in a moment, you feel two ibuprofen pressed into your palm and the mug of tea nudged into your other hand, your roommate gently prompting you to drink. He watches as you pop the pills and take a slow sip of the tea, smiling faintly when you recognize that it’s chamomile.

“Good.” He takes the mug and sets it aside on your bedside table. Pulling your desk chair up to the side of your bed, he sits, and leans over towards your feet.

His light fingers start to work on the knots in the ties of your shoes, and you can feel his voice rumble lightly as he says, “What happened, kid?”

You huff a laugh at the pet name, then consider where to begin. You decide straightforward is the best approach with someone like Levi.

“I saw Reiner and Annie at the club, sucking face in the middle of the dance floor. I thought he was at some quote unquote frat thing and she insisted she couldn’t come out to girls’ night because of some stupid group project. They didn’t even see me, I just turned around and left before I knew what I was doing. And poor Bertholdt, he probably has no clue what Annie’s been up to.” You take a shuddering breath and let out a choked sob, trying to stop the waterworks and unable to keep them at bay. “God, I’m such a spineless coward.”

“Hey.” Levi’s sharp tone startles your teary gaze to meet his eyes, which look practically murderous. He leans over to grasp your shoulders, warm hands scorching cool skin. “You are not a spineless coward. He is the goddamned spineless foolish bastard, and if I ever see his ugly mug I will wreck it so bad his own mother won’t be able to identify the body. As a matter of fact, that goes for Annie, too. Are we clear?”

You blink in shock before fully registering his words and nodding slowly. “Crystal.” Levi looks the most angry you’ve ever seen him, brow furrowed and mouth set determinedly.

“Good.” He returns his attention to your ankle. While you were talking, he had successfully untied and slipped your shoes off your swollen feet. “Now, let’s see what’s going on with your weak-ass foot.”

He spends a good minute poking and prodding and turning your ankle every which way in his grasp. “Does this hurt?” and “What about this way?” are answered with soft “no”s or a wince and a “yes”. His hands are practiced and intentional, and you briefly wonder how much experience he has with treating injuries. After a last gentle prod, he sets your foot back down on the bed.

“Well, it’s definitely not broken. It is swelling, though, and probably sprained. I’ll go see if we have an ace bandage or something.” He stands and moves to leave, but before he can get too far you gently grasp his forearm.

“Thank you, Levi.” Your voice is soft and sincere as you look up at him through curled and mascaraed eyelashes. “Thanks for picking me up off the floor and listening and taking care of me.”

Levi studies your tired face for a moment. The trails of mascara down your cheeks, a stray piece of glitter sitting on your cheekbone, lipgloss smudged on the left side. It seems as though his hand moves on its own, reaching out to stroke your cheek lightly, thumb gently brushing away the escaped glitter. He doesn’t miss the way your lashes flutter as you subconsciously lean into his touch. Finally, he tousles your hair with a hint of tenderness in his eyes.

“Tch. Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“I’m barely younger than you!”

“Whatever, brat.”

Levi is sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and hunched over his laptop when you step out of your room late the next morning. Freshly showered, your hair curls delicately over your shoulders and the scent of peppermint body wash reaches his nose. He studies you for a moment. You’re wearing a loose sleep shirt, cotton shorts, and an oversized cardigan, and he can see where the ace bandage he found last night pokes out from under your fuzzy socks. Clearly, you’re planning to stay in today.

“G’morning,” you murmur, passing behind him to get to the kitchen. Your roommate grunts a greeting in response and takes a sip of tea in his odd overhanded way. You start your coffee routine, reaching for the French press and coffee grounds from a shelf and setting the kettle to boil on the stove. It’s grounding to go through the motions of a daily ritual after the emotional turmoil of last night. Or rather, the emotional turmoil of this morning. It had been hard to drag yourself out of bed before noon, and harder still not to crawl back into your warm sheets after a scalding shower. You steel yourself for the inevitable conversation as you measure out grounds, then finally turn and hop up to sit on the counter facing Levi when the only thing left to do is to wait for the coffee to brew.

“Sooooo,” you start in a long, drawn out syllable, leaning back on your hands.

His hands still on the keyboard and a quiet tension fills Levi’s shoulders before he turns his body fully towards you, resting a hand on the back of his chair. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are softer than they usually are when you interrupt his studying.

You take a deep breath.

“So, uh, last night I was kind of a wreck and you were really sweet, and I just wanted to say thank you again and I’m sorry you had to witness that.” It’s said in a rush, and by some miracle you manage to maintain eye contact.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for.”

“I know, I know, I just-- it felt really nice to have someone, y’know, there after what, uhm, after what happened and I really was a mess I mean I must’ve looked so gross and I woke you up at like what? Two am? And you were just so steady and kind and I mean you even tucked me into bed for God’s sake--” you ramble on, the words falling over each other in your awkwardness. God, you idiot don’t you know when to shut the fuck up?? “--and I know how much you like it to be quiet at night and I really do try to--”

Levi cuts you off when he stands fluidly from his seat and crosses the kitchen in two strides, entering your space and placing his hand over your mouth in the same motion. You look at him with wide eyes, suddenly breathing very oddly. The clean smell of paint thinner and black tea simultaneously clouds and calms your mind.

A beat, then: “Brat. Stop rambling, you’re welcome.” You study each others’ faces. Levi’s eyes are stern and steady as he looks up at you through elegantly disheveled bangs. To Levi, you look like a deer caught in headlights, all surprised eyes and warm cheeks. After a charged moment, he lets his hand drop and takes the smallest step backwards.

It takes your brain a second to reboot, then you’re fumbling over your words again. “Okay. Well, uhmm. Okay.”

“How’s your foot?” He glances down at the foot in question as if to check it’s still there, then back at you.

“It’s okay. Still hurts to walk on but I can handle it,” you manage to breathe out with the air left in your lungs.

“Good.” He nods once, then turns and sits back down at his laptop. He hears you huff half an incredulous laugh and slide down from the counter to pour your coffee. A shake of the head and a sip of tea later, his mind slips back into essay mode and away from the woman drilling holes in the back of his head with curious eyes.

“Hey baby!” You hear Reiner’s voice from the door as he pushes through it with his usual boisterousness. From your position at the kitchen table in front of your laptop, your back is to him and you allow yourself a moment to press your nails into the palm of your hand and steel your nerves before plastering a smile on your face. You stand up and turn to greet him, limping to meet him halfway from the door.

“Hey babe, come on in!”

He winds an arm around your waist and pulls you in to peck you on the lips as usual, but you manage to subtly turn your head so it lands on your cheek instead. With the flash of an innocent smile as a coverup, you step out of his arms and make your way into the kitchen to set the kettle for coffee. “So, uh, how was your frat thing?”

He follows close behind you, completely oblivious, and cages you in with your back against the counter after you’re done at the stove. “Eh, it was alright. Got some new pledges, you know how it is.” He grins in the cocky way you fell for and leans farther into your space. You give a giggle and rest gentle hands on his chest, keeping him at a distance while feigning affection.

“Oh, sure. Busy night of fun, I’m sure.” Your tone is sickly sweet and you mentally grimace at yourself to take it down a notch.

Fiddling absentmindedly with the collar of his shirt, you take a moment to mourn your relationship. While it’s about to end swiftly and brutally, you know that you will miss the security and warmth you had with Reiner in the beginning. You finally lean in to lay your head on his chest one last time, and your heart aches at the way he tenderly rests his chin on top of your head. The moment is broken by the kettle beginning to whistle and you gently push him away to go turn it off.

“How’re Hange and the girls?” He leans himself against the counter and watches as you bustle around the kitchen, preparing coffee as you usually do when he comes over. It’s one of the things the pair of you had initially bonded over, trying new beans and methods of brewing nearly every week. Recently, you had been using Guatemalan beans with notes of peach and candied almonds, a birthday gift from the cheating boyfriend himself.

As you measure out grounds into the French press, you maintain a cheerful disposition. This is it, you think. Don’t back down now.

“They’re doing great, we had so much fun! We went to that new bar on Oakland Street, I think it’s called like Stevie’s?” Of course it’s called Stevie’s, it had been all anyone could talk about since the new bar opened earlier in the semester.

“Oh, yeah, uhm I’ve heard good things, good things….” His voice has a nervous edge to it, and a glance in his direction confirms that he’s awkwardly rubbing his neck as he usually does when he has something to hide.

You push on: “Yeah! I think you would totally love it! Very much your vibe. Anyway, we got absolutely plastered, to be honest I’m not even sure I remember how much I had to drink.” A pause for dramatic effect accompanied by a ditzy laugh. “But y’know, I do remember seeing one thing.” You carefully bloom the grounds before pouring the rest of the water in, focusing your gaze away from Reiner in order to keep your cool.

“Oh?”

You casually set the chicken shaped kitchen timer on the fridge to four minutes and adopt a thoughtful tone. “Yeah, I saw Annie there. Which was odd, because she told me that she had this huge group project to be working on. Guess she finished early. Oh, and you know what else I saw?”

“W-what?” A sharp turn away from the fridge reveals his increasingly nervous face to you

“I saw you there, too! Maybe you got so drunk at the “frat thing” you just don’t remember going, how funny is that?” You keep your voice light but find yourself unable to maintain a smile, your expression slipping into somewhere in between hurt and determined.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet and looks anywhere but your face, hand still rubbing the back of his neck. “Ahaha, really? Are you sure it was me, becau--”

“Oh, it was you. And do you know what you were doing?” This time, your voice is icier than the sidewalk in February after a week of sleet, causing his body to still and face to fall.

“N-no…” It’s almost pitiful how quiet he is now that his usually confident demeanor is shaken.

“You were kissing Annie. Which is funny, considering you both are in relationships.” The statement hangs in the air and you stare steadily into his eyes. You make it a point to regulate your breathing and blink back the first tears beginning to pool.

After another charged split second, your idiot ex-boyfriend decides on the worst path: badly gaslighting you into thinking it wasn’t him.

“I uhm, I was uh, are you sure? It couldn’t have been A-Annie-- I mean uhm, me, uh, ahaha, if it was, that’s so funny…” He stumbles over his words, only trailing off in defeat when you hold up a hand to silence him.

“Save it, Reiner. I already had a breakdown last night, I’m not particularly in the mood to deal with yours.” You limp over to the table and pull out a chair to reveal the cardboard box of his things you had packed up that morning. “Here’s your stuff, now get the hell out and stay the fuck away from me. Maybe go grovel to Bertholdt and see if you can salvage that relationship.” Your hand trembles as you point at the box and then the door and your lip quivers with the effort of not crying.

Reiner evidently sees the vulnerability in your eyes and decides to grasp at a few last straws, adopting a pleading mien, complete with sad smile and innocent eyes. He moves towards you slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, and reaches out to lay a hand on your shoulder. “Aww, come on, baby, it wasn’t like that, it was just a heat of the moment thing, I didn’t mean--”

“Didn’t mean what?” Facade finally breaking, all you can muster up is a furious, cracked whisper and angry tears. “Didn’t mean to stick your tongue down my best friend’s throat? Didn’t mean to practically fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in public?”

“No, I mean, yes, but I, aw, c’mon sweetheart,” he admonishes, cautiously reaching out to wipe away your tears. You cringe away, but before he can touch you his arm is ripped away and he’s stumbling back with a shocked expression.

“I believe the lady told you to get the fuck out.” Levi’s standing in front of you out of nowhere, hands eerily still at his side. Evidently, he had come back from the store smack in the middle of The Dumpening, and a glance towards the entryway confirms there are grocery bags discarded haphazardly on the floor. Turning your attention back to the men in your kitchen, you see Reiner’s face has rapidly shifted from surprised to angry. He’s caught himself against the counter, breathing hard, eyes flicking from your teary eyes to Levi.

“Hey, this isn’t any of your fuckin’ business, buddy,” Reiner drawls, confident as he straightens up to his full height. He practically towers over Levi, the shortest of the three of you, and you can tell he’s already estimating your roommate to be an easy fight should it come down to that. Sharp panic enters your chest at the thought of a fight breaking out, and your hand flinches out to grasp Levi’s jacket sleeve desperately. You’ve seen Reiner in a couple bar fights, and even drunk he’s a force to be reckoned with.

He doesn’t acknowledge your touch, instead injecting a quiet venom into his usually dispassionate tone. “You made it my fuckin’ business when you touched my roommate without her permission in my home.”

The taller man opens his mouth to retort, but you beat him to the punch: “Reiner, just go. I want you to leave.” Some mettle has returned to your voice and you force obstinate lungs to take a deep breath. “Please take your stuff and go.”

Eye contact with Reiner usually makes you feel warm and safe and in love, both of you prone to wearing your heart on your sleeve. This time the experience is sullied by conflicting anger and hurt and guilt written across his face, filling your already aching heart with an unshakeable leaden weight.

He inhales sharply, then speaks in a much more uncertain voice. “Is this really what you want?”

Your mouth quirks to the side in an effort to quell more tears. “Yes, this is really what I want.”

The fight slumps out of his body, shoulders rounding imperceptibly, and he holds up his hands in defeat. He crosses to the cardboard box of his things sitting on the kitchen chair. You don’t miss the way Levi casually keeps his body between you and Reiner, staring him down as he moves towards the pair of you. Your grip hasn’t slackened on Levi’s jacket, and at this point you can’t distinguish if it’s to stop him from doing something stupid or simply to have something to hold onto.

Reiner hoists the box into his arms and turns his head towards you once more.

“Goodbye,” his voice cracks on your name and you tear your eyes away in favor of staring at the linoleum kitchen floor.

The front door clicks shut.

You finally drop your hand from Levi’s sleeve, sink slowly into the chair behind you, and bury your face in your hands. The dull aching of your heart seems to seep through the rest of your body until your limbs are heavy, ankle throbbing from standing on it for too long.

You hear Levi’s retreating footsteps towards the door, the shunk of the lock slipping into place, and the crinkle of plastic grocery bags as he picks them up off the floor. He works in silence putting the food away, giving you space to collect your scattered self. When his task is complete, he joins you at the table, sitting in the chair which had previously been occupied by Reiner’s box.

When the chicken timer rings, he calmly shuts it off and returns to sit by you.

When his cell phone dings with a text notification, he deftly sets it to “Do Not Disturb” and returns to keeping you company.

When you finally meet his eyes, it looks like you’ve aged a year.

“You all right?”

“Been better.”

“At least this time you’re sober.”

“Pfft,” you scoff. “Wish I wasn’t.”

“On that note, I got wine and cheese at the store. The “perfect break up cure”, in your own words.” His tone is dry, but his mouth is slightly quirked at the side. “And I saw that Pride and Prejudice is streaming on Netflix.”

His thoughtfulness chips into your melancholy, and you hazard a watery smile. “Aw Levi, you didn’t have to do that.” With that, you lean over and pull him into a warm hug, arms around his neck and chin hooked over his shoulder. He hesitantly puts his own arms around you and pats your back awkwardly.

“Really, it’s no--”

“Oh, shut up and let me be grateful for you.”

(read Part 1.5 here)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #reiner braun #annie leonhart #hange zoe #sasha braus #hitch dreyse #bertholdt hoover #swearing #alcohol #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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hinadoria · 3 years

Text

Title: like nobody’s business

Author: hinadoria / Twitter: @bunniepunk / AO3: bunnypunk

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mild amounts of swearing

Summary: Shen Yuan had never known what to do about crying people, much less crying men asleep in his bed at ass o’clock in the middle of the night. God, if Jiu-ge knew about this, Shen Yuan would be six feet under. No, he’d be yeeted directly into hell’s abyss. Arguably though, this was all Jiu-ge’s fault.

AO3: Link

It started when his old roommate Shang Qinghua decided to get hitched at Shen Yuan’s 25th birthday party. Disregarding the fact that it was his birthday party in his apartment that he was paying for (Shang Qinghua was only there to keep an eye on him at Jiu-ge’s ever insistent demands), an increasingly hammered Shang Qinghua had decided it was the perfect time to propose to his disappointingly sober boyfriend.

“My LORd, have yOU EvEr ThoughT about Getting HitchED?!” he shouted in Mobei-Jun’s face. Shen Yuan saw the wince on Mobei-Jun’s face before he could smooth it away. Airplane-Bro had that effect on people. Even his boyfriend was no exception.

However, Mobei-Jun had silently pulled the biggest ring Shen Yuan had ever seen out of his pocket like it was a dimension to worlds unknown. Shang Qinghua yanked it out of his grasp, put it on, and immediately started sobbing loudly in his boyfriend's arms, effectively ruining the atmosphere.

If it wasn’t because Shen Yuan was already secretly plotting to escape to his room, he might have been significantly more miffed at this sequence of events.

After all, he had never been one for big, lavish events like a formal birthday party. He’d much rather spend it in the comfort of his room, maybe playing videogames with a few close friends. However, Jiu-ge had insisted, in that stubborn way of his, taking no arguments. As a result, Shen Yuan wasn’t sure he even knew half the people at his own party.

This all didn’t mean he was completely free of indignation, however. Shen Yuan cleared his throat pointedly, but was ignored by both the affectionate couple and the crowd of people politely applauding.

It was a testament to Mobei-Jun’s excitement, if he was a man that felt such emotions, that he leaped up onto the table, which creaked dangerously with his weight.

“I’d like to thank my dear friends and my soon-to-be best man who supported me through this time. Whom I wouldn’t have met without Shen Yuan’s recommendation to work at Cang Qiong’s internship program under Shen Jiu. So a heartfelt thanks to them both,” Mobei-Jun proclaimed.

The attention of the party turned to its host, who began to turn hot under all the attention.

Damn, it wasn’t as if he was Mother Teresa.

He had simply wanted to stop hearing Jiu-ge’s nagging complaints about a lack of competent interns at his company. And he knew that Airplane-bro’s boyfriend was just about to graduate. It was simple math.

Either way, he had to resolve this situation before Mobei-Jun broke the table or worse, made him give a speech. He quickly grabbed an abandoned glass from the table and raised it high. With raucous cheer, the party returned to full swing, and Shen Yuan strategically retreated to his bedroom.

The next day, Shang Qinghua had all but been moved out of his apartment (Mobei-Jun worked fast and efficiently. Shen Yuan had been begrudgingly impressed). In the midst of his soporific haze, a loud banging came from his front door. Reluctant to get up, Shen Yuan nevertheless used every last bit of his willpower to do so. When he opened the door however, he immediately found himself in deep regret.

A pale Jiu-ge, like Bloody Mary summoned from a dirty elementary school bathroom mirror, stood at his door, foot tapping a mile a minute. He stormed past Shen Yuan into his apartment and curled his mouth in distaste at the mess.

“This apartment is no longer acceptable. I’ve put up with it until now, but this is the last straw. It is imperative that you move out immediately to a place not infested by the stench of the poor,” Jiu-ge demanded. Shen Yuan would never tell him it was probably the week-old ramen stewing on his kitchen counter.

“But I don’t want to, Jiu-ge, please!” he whined. Like most things regarding his older brother, would eventually yield, but would put up a valiant effort nonetheless. No one had the right to accuse him of being a pushover, after all.

Jiu-ge sat down at his oily counter with a sigh, hands flying up to bury themselves in his messy hair.

Shen Yuan immediately felt guilty.

His brother looked a lot less put-together than he usually was, now that he was looking more closely. His shirt was unbuttoned and his makeup was smudged, both facets of his appearance he usually controlled with meticulous determination.

“Please don’t fight me on this, A-Yuan.” His brother looked back at him, and Shen Yuan could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” asked Shen Yuan. He tapped his fingers nervously.

“It will be,” Jiu-ge answered immediately as if he had expected this question. “Once I get a good night’s sleep.” Shen Yuan moved to sit by his brother.

“Mobei-Jun proposed to Shang Qinghua yesterday,” he offered. This made the crease between Jiu-ge’s brows deeper further.

“At your birthday party?”

“I know, I was shocked too!”

“Rude bastard. I knew nothing good could come out of that tight-knit group of rascals the company foisted on me.”

“Don’t be like that. I bet you secretly appreciate their help, big softie.” Shen Yuan poked at his brother’s cheek, and giggled when Jiu-ge pretended to bite at him. A small smile appeared on his brother’s face, and Shen Yuan rejoiced at the sight. He felt like he deserved an award for Best Brother of the Year.

“I suppose they suffice at times.” Jiu-ge wrinkled his nose like he had thought of something particularly disgusting. “Well. Almost all of them,” he huffed. He shook his head when Shen Yuan looked at him in question. But Best Brother of the Year did not do things half-heartedly.

“I know how to cheer you up even more,” Shen Yuan decided then and there.

That was how Shen Yuan found himself moved into the expensive nouveau-riche apartment complex next door to his brother on the third floor. All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. Jiu-ge was too busy to check up on him more than once a week in person, although the daily calls to his office phone were still a requirement.

Shen Yuan had always been a homebody, there was no denying that. As long as he could coop up in his room reading and editing trashy novels, he didn’t care for the particulars of time or place, even if leaving his apartment and chancing upon another human made him feel like Oscar the Grouch having been caught outside of his trash can and committing a crime.

The point was: it had all been going just fine and dandy, until one day a shout disrupted Shen Yuan from his editing of one of Airplane’s terribly written papapa scenes. He roughly yanked open his curtains, hearing a rip in the plush blue velvet. Whatever, what Jiu-ge didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The scene which greeted him was one of darkness, which okay, he wasn’t quite expecting that but fine, it wasn’t the first time he had lost track of time doing this and that. Shivering, Shen Yuan stepped out onto his balcony and peered over the rails to see a very attractive, very drunk man holding a broken bottle of what looked like Xin Mo liquor.

“Shen Jiu, there you are, you fucking bastard. Fucking coward! What, too afraid to come and see your disgusting student Binghe on this beautiful night? You always thought you were above us mere mortals, didn’t you? I hope both sides of your pillow are always ice!”

Yikes, Shen Yuan thought privately.

This dude was hammered. Despite everything a laugh bubbled its way up his chest. He didn’t know his brother was so unpopular at work but with a sour face like his, he should’ve expected. Briefly, the thought of pretending to be his brother just to hear more of the entertaining insults crossed his mind, but before he could open his mouth the man, probably named Binghe, went on.

“I bet you think you wake up just looking like an angel descended from the heavens! Well let me tell you, scumbag, that I curse you and your descendents to always have shaky eyeliner! Let’s see you keep up that hoity-toity look and scream at me when you come into work looking like a clown!”

Shen Yuan covered his eyes in horror. Not his eyeliner! He had to look sharp for the ladies.

“I fixed that stupid assignment one million times! Your nitpicking doesn’t even make sense anymore, you blind geezer! Come down here, if you’re not a coward and I’ll show you ...” Binghe paused, looking like he was gonna hurl.

“Show me what? You can’t leave me hanging like that, I won’t be able to sleep!” Shen Yuan shouted out, against his better judgement. He had already been collecting Binghe’s flavored insults to use against that traitor Shang Qinghua next time he saw him.

Binghe looked back up, with what seemed like confusion in his eyes, though it could have just been bleary drunkenness. To Shen Yuan’s horror, it looked like Binghe had tears in his eyes.

“All I wanted was for Laoshi to acknowledge me,” Binghe sobbed out. At this point Shen Yuan had missed his chance to tell the poor man that his brother was out of town on a business trip, and that Binghe was shouting at a stranger. He felt something in his chest squeeze at Binghe’s watery puppy dog eyes.

“Why does everyone look down on me?” Binghe cried. “I try so hard, over and over but all you do is scorn me … again and again! What do I have to do, just tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything! Just …” At this point the boy was choking on his sobs. Shen Yuan felt something shattering. He found himself walking down the stairs. He was going to go down and fetch him before the police were called, that was all, he told himself.

By the time he arrived on the cold grass ready to coax the drunkard, he found him passed out, clutching the broken bottle so hard his hand was bleeding. Shen Yuan sucked in a sharp breath.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you warmed up,” Shen Yuan said as he pried the glass from Binghe’s hand and used all his strength to haul him up and to the elevator.

He got several strange looks as he dragged an unconscious man across the fancy lobby, but Shen Yuan just snorted and ignored them. The people here had sticks so far up their ass they were getting free prostate massages. Shen Yuan stifled his laughter at his own wit in Binghe’s dead weighted shoulder and got a few more strange looks by the lady in the elevator. Halfway to Shen Yuan’s room, Binghe woke up and stared at Shen Yuan like he was an alien.

He struggled a bit and whined, “Laoshi, please don’t dropkick me into the Panama Canal, I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

Shen Yuan laughed and patted Binghe’s hair. “Go back to sleep, rowdy boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” It probably wasn’t because of his words, but Binghe managed to walk a few steps on his own before becoming dead weight on Shen Yuan again. He felt the breath knocked out of him.

“For someone who’s such a crybaby, you sure are … heavy!” Shen Yuan panted as he managed to drag Binghe into his apartment and throw him onto his bed. He shoddily wrapped up Binghe’s bleeding hand with several bandages. Novels may have taught him a lot, but he had surprisingly little practical knowledge when faced with a gash like Binghe’s in reality.

The fatigue of the night finally caught up with him as he saw Binghe’s peaceful sleeping face and he barely managed to do his nightly routine before sliding into his bed next to the unconscious person.

Shen Yuan was just about to drift away into sleep until he heard sniffling coming from the other man and turned around to see Binghe crying in his sleep.

And so was his current dilemma. Shen Yuan had no idea how to handle crying people. He stared dumbly for a few moments before kicking himself to do something, anything!

Shen Yuan wouldn’t do this for any random stranger that came knocking to his door, but luckily he had gleaned several useful tidbits of information from Binghe’s drunken speech. For example, he was likely one of Jiu-ge’s new interns at the large Cang Qiong Company he worked at, under the Qing Jing subsidiary. Second, Jiu-ge seemed to be giving the poor boy an extremely hard time, and Shen Yuan knew better than anyone just how sharp his brother’s acerbic tongue could be. Shen Yuan felt mildly responsible for cleaning up his brother’s mess.

Also, Binghe was terribly cute. He reminded Shen Yuan of the little puppy he used to play with in childhood, named Bingbing, after his favorite actress.

It was a combination of these facts, or none of them, that ultimately made Shen Yuan do what he did next; wrap his arms around Binghe and gently stroke his hair, murmuring comforting words to him until he stopped crying.

Somewhere along the way he found himself asleep as well.

Binghe awoke from his drunken stupor sometime between ass and fuck o’clock in the morning. His hand was covered in messily wrapped bandages.

When he saw the face of the person fast asleep next to him, he flinched backwards so hard he almost fell out of the bed.

What did I do last night? He wailed miserably in his head. A worst case scenario flashed through his head, and he made sure that both of them were clothed before exhaling a sigh of relief. That was the last time he let Mobei-Jun get him drunk, bachelor party be damned.

The last thing he remembered was accepting a glass full of alcohol in the bar he’d been dragged to, but everything afterwards was a blur. He didn’t remember how he walked all the way to his boss’s nouveau riche apartment, and he certainly didn’t remember how he ended up in bed with the man he was most fearful of.

There was one thing Binghe knew with full certainty, however; he had to escape this apartment immediately before he lost his job or worse: his life.

He had barely turned around and registered vaguely that the apartment was a lot sloppier than he’d expected of his avaricious boss before a sleepy hum made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mmm… Binghe?”

Binghe froze. Shen Jiu had never called him by name, it was always something along the lines of “scum” or “lad”.

Filled with trepidation, he turned to face his boss against his better judgement.

A sleepy smile stretched its way across the face of the person in front of him just as the morning’s rays peeked through the rip in the curtains and fell across his face.

Angelic, Binghe’s mind vaguely registered. Maybe he hadn’t come to his boss’s apartment after all. Maybe he had died and entered a realm different than the one he’d been in. Maybe he was already in heaven.

The angel’s face scrunched up cutely at the offending rays across his face. He glanced at the curtains before letting out a forlorn sigh.

“Jiu-ge’s gonna kill me for that …” sighed the angel across from Binghe.

Jiu-ge? Who’s that, I’ll fight him so you never have a frown on your pretty face ever again, Binghe thought blearily.

Mr. Angel noticed he was awake and smiled a crooked smile.

“Good morning. You were drunk and screaming outside my window last night, so I thought I’d do a public service and take you in before you hurt yourself, “ the angel laughed nervously. “Binghe is your name, right?”

Binghe nodded, feeling like his body was not his own. Then he had a thought.

“Wait … how do you know?”

The angel’s lips thinned, looking like he was trying really hard not to laugh. Oh, that was not a good sign.

“Well … You dropped your name in the middle of shouting about how you wished your boss’s food was too salty, among other things …”

The wave of relief that was about to pass through Binghe at realizing this person was likely not his boss aborted itself as it was overtaken by sheer waves of mortification.

Binghe covered his face with his hands, letting out an ungodly groan of embarrassment.

“Binghe… I’m saying this for your own good.” Mr. Angel looked into Binghe’s eyes seriously. “Do you know how to use swear words?”

Binghe immediately pouted, feeling like he was being made fun of. He couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed, however, at the angel’s bell-like peals of laughter smothered by his hand. It was such a stark contrast to his boss’s restrained expressions.

“Ah! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu’s younger twin brother.”

And there was the horror again.

Just as Binghe was about to bid farewell to his short, inconsequential life, Shen Yuan continued chattering. “You’re lucky Jiu-ge’s out of town on a business trip, and that you weren’t actually serenading his window but mine. If he was here, I don’t know if I could have even stopped him from personally throwing you into a jail cell.”

Binghe felt like he had gotten off of a life-threatening roller coaster ride. Stiffly, he rose from the bed and bent ninety degrees into a bow.

“Thanking Shen Yuan for his kindness in rescuing this lowly one from his predicament!” Binghe grew so nervous he immediately started speaking as if he were in a period drama. “In order to repay my honorable benefactor, this one will prepare breakfast!” He rushed away before Shen Yuan could speak a single word.

Once Binghe found the kitchen, he allowed himself a mini-freakout session. He! Was in! His boss’s younger brother’s bed! And the younger brother was an angel! Even though Binghe was fairly certain nothing untoward had occurred between the two of them the night prior, he felt every inch of his nerves tingling. He was also fairly certain that any other person that lacked Shen Yuan’s generosity would have immediately called the police on him at the least.

This was the first time anyone had done something so selfless for his sake.

Unbidden, a flush streaked across his cheeks, and Binghe slapped at himself to get out of it. Shen Yuan was his benefactor, and it would be wrong to have indecent thoughts about someone so innocent. There may not be much Binghe was good at, as he had learned from his internship under Shen Jiu, but the least he could do was cook him a decent breakfast.

Shen Yuan was roused from his half-wakeful state by the smell of something good coming from the kitchen. Which was weird because last he checked, there was nothing in there but dust and half-eaten ramen. (Yes, he had a problem.)

Wait … Binghe!

It was a little belated, but the nagging voice in Shen Yuan’s head that sounded suspiciously like Jiu-ge berated himself for falling asleep again while a stranger was in his apartment. A cute stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

Shen Yuan, the voice nagged. One of these days you’re going to get yourself murdered in cold blood …

Alright, shut up, you. No one wants to hear this in the early morning, Shen Yuan bickered back.

“Sir?” Binghe’s voice nervously called from the kitchen entrance.

Shen Yuan immediately relaxed back into what he thought was a cool pose.

“There’s no need for formalities, Binghe. After all, you’ve already slept in my bed.”

Binghe’s ears flushed red at his words, and he swayed back and forth like a maiden on the morning after her wedding night. Shen Yuan stopped this strange line of thinking once he realized how weird it was.

“I made you breakfast as a thank you for er… handling me last night,” Binghe said softly.

Well, that didn’t help his strange thoughts. The last conscious thought Shen Yuan had was that he’d better go and eat the poor shy guy’s food since he had made it already.

He didn’t recall getting up or sitting down at the kitchen table, but the next thing he knew he was staring down at an empty plate, stomach full of delicious food.

“I don’t know what to think. This is the first time this has happened to me.” It wasn’t, but Shen Yuan had always had a flair for the dramatic. “If you can cook so well, why are you wasting your time under my brother’s wing? You should go be a professional chef, and share this magic with the rest of the world.”

It wasn’t empty praise. Shen Yuan genuinely believed he’d be blessed if he could eat like this every day for the rest of his life. His terrible habit of crappy eating would be forever changed.

Binghe was so red he looked like a tomato.

Abruptly, the sounds of a phone ringing disrupted the nice atmosphere. Binghe’s face paled.

“Oh no, I left Mobei-Jun at the club last night. He must be wondering where I am. The bachelor party got kind of crazy.”

Hm? Mobei-Jun? Shen Yuan slapped his forehead in realization. Of course! Binghe was a part of Jiu-ge’s interns, of course he knew Mobei-Jun. Shen Yuan had no idea how he had failed to make that connection. He might even be the best man Mobei-Jun had mentioned, since he was pretty sure the third intern was a woman. Sha Hualing, he believed her name was?

Either way, Shen Yuan hadn’t realized he and Binghe were so closely connected. Besides, he hadn’t felt comfortable calling Binghe a stranger, now that they no longer were.

Maybe he’d get a chance to see Binghe in a tux at the wedding? That would be so cute! Of course, he’d have to help keep him away from the champagne, especially since Jiu-ge would also be there. That was a nightmare waiting to happen.

While Shen Yuan was off fantasizing, Binghe had gathered all his stuff and prepared to leave. He hovered nervously around the door.

Shen Yuan snapped out of it to bid him goodbye. Binghe smiled shyly.

“Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime?” he asked.

Shen Yuan hid a smile behind his hand, and adopted a lofty expression.

“This immortal does not often descend from his honorable peak. However, if fate wills it to be so, then so shall it be,” he said, imitating Binghe’s earlier style of speech.

Binghe laughed, but kept hovering near the door as if he was waiting for something.

“Alright, your friend must be wondering where you are. Go on, now.” A flash of disappointment crossed Binghe’s face, but he obediently left, looking back like a puppy several times as he did so.

It wasn’t until much later that Shen Yuan would realize he had forgotten to explain that he was friends with Shang Qinghua, and that they would likely see each other again at the wedding. By the time the wedding itself rolled around, it would prove to be an ordeal of its own.

But that would remain a story for another time.

#SVSSS #svsss fic #bingyuan #shen yuan #luo binghe #scumbag self saving system #bingqiuweek2021 #fanfic #day eight #fanfiction #my works

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dimpled-gukkie · 3 years

Text

Santa Baby (tell me you hear them too)

moodboard made by the lovely @today-we-will-survive

Summary: You attend a last minute Christmas party and meet your soulmate. The catch? You don’t remember anything about them besides the fact that they were wearing a Santa suit. Turns out there were seven Santas at the party... The question remains: Can you find your soulmate before Christmas Day?

Genre: Soulmate AU/ College AU

Pairing: ???? x reader

Warnings: hand burned on hot chocolate, Jin says he’s too pretty to be a hostage, mentions and depictions of drinking, joon is described as a porn aficionado

Word Count: 12.4k

a/n: It’s a very special day for my dearest friend @purpleful! In your honor I thought I’d write you a story of your own, as you help me with a countless amount of mine. Remember all the times you asked me this month if I had written anything or had a Christmas fic? I had been working on this the whole time nshjfhn. You sent me into a panic sometimes though because I swear you guessed the plot several times without actually knowing I was even writing. Anyways I love you and thank you for being my friend ❤️

a/a/n: also Happy Holidays to anyone else celebrating. I hope you’re able to find lightness even in these dark times. And to the atheists out there, cheers to the upcoming new year

1 day, 12 hours, 32 minutes and 12 seconds until Christmas

“Don’t you think those elf costumes are hot? Like damn I wish my legs looked like that in tights.” Mina whispers conspiratorially, though her voice has a tendency to carry no matter what volume she attempts to speak in, meaning the elf you’re passing by surely hears her based off his reddened ears.

“Do you have any shame?” You laugh, tucking your arm around her own to tug her into the nearby candle store. Your professor offered to give extra credit in exchange for a present and while she’s undoubtably exploiting her students for free gifts you could really use some help in your upper division history elective.

“What’s the fun in that?” Mina giggles, reaching over to the nearest stand and picking up a candle. She gives it a good whiff before coughing, holding the offending item away from her like that will somehow save her from smelling it further despite the top still being off.

“I imagine this is what elf vomit smells like.” She groans, shoving it into your arms in an effort to make you suffer as well. True friendship.

“Winter Candies?” You question, reading the label and the ingredients it’s supposed to smell like. “Adding pecan and peppermint is probably what went wrong.” You hum before smelling it yourself and coughing from the fumes. “Oh you were right this is disgusting.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Mina hums. “Get that one for your professor.”

“I’d like my grade to be higher not lower. Let’s just get this pine one. It’s a safe bet right?”

“If you like your house to smell like a forest I guess so.” She shrugs, following behind you to the register. “Do you think we could get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you eat like half of Songi’s Christmas cookies this morning? Speaking of which you’re going to get in trouble, she was whining the whole time about how long they were taking due to her lack of patience.”

“When is she not whining about how long things take? Girl has the attention span of a nat, better yet a goldfish.” She snickers, though her eyes shine with a particular fondness for one of her oldest friends. Songi is actually how you met Mina in the first place, the both of you stuck in statistics together and becoming quick friends. When sophomore year rolled around it just made sense to move in with Songi and Mina as they were already looking for a third roommate.

“Very true. Though I’m sure her soulmate will find it charming. Hopefully.”

“Do you ever wonder when we’ll meet our soulmates?” Mina sighs, looking dreamily off into what appears to be the oncoming food court. It’s a toss up whether she’s thinking about her soulmate or fried food.

“All the time but I try not to dwell on it. I just want to live you know? They’ll find me eventually.” The line for hotteok is long, but the sweet smell of pancakes keeps you placated even if your stomach is grumbling.

“When my soulmate does come I hope they’re as fine as Park Jimin. That man must be an angel or something because no one has the right to be that attractive.” You’re about to comment on where that sudden thought came from when Park Jimin himself exits hastily from a store, a clothing bag thrown over his shoulder as he hastily types on his phone. From the draw of his brows and slight scowl he almost looks a little angry, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Jimin!” Mina calls, and the orange haired boy immediately picks his head up and puts on a light smile before jogging over.

As he approaches the bells around you jangle, the clock at Santa’s workshop echoing throughout the mall and ringing in your ears. Rubbing your ear to try and ease the slight pain you give Jimin a small wave when he finally appears before you. “The bells are pretty loud huh?” He smiles, nodding towards the large bell that apparently looms behind you.

You agree at the same time Mina says, “I don’t think they’re that loud. Annoying at most.” Before looking between the both of you and wriggling her brows. You brush it off as her being weird before gesturing to Jimin’s bag.

“Don’t tell me you bought a Santa costume.” You say, causing him to laugh. The way his eyes slip between his plump cheeks is rather flattering.

“I lost a bet and this is the price to pay for tonight’s party. Speaking of which you guys should come. Jin’s on alcohol duty so he’ll definitely get all the fancy shit.” Jimin says.

“Well since the Park Jimin invited us, I guess we’ll have to stop by. Text y/n the address and we’ll get there eventually. No promises to be on time though.” Mina jokes.

“That is why they created the term ‘fashionably late’ is it not? Just make sure not to wear a sexy Santa costume, Jin says he wants to be the lone slutty Santa.” Jimin laughs, as if drawing a picture in his own mind before shaking his head.

“It’s a little odd to have a party on the twenty-third though. Why not Christmas Eve?”

“Most of us are going home tomorrow so today was really the only time. Everyone was strung up with finals and stuff.”

“Understandable. I’m getting last minute extra credit before grades are finalized tomorrow. Our school really kills the festive spirit with everything being so close to the holidays.”

“Exactly. All the more reason to party out our frustrations.” His phone buzzes and Jimin types a quick reply before turning back to you. “I gotta go and help Tae at the shelter but I’ll see you both tonight right?”

“And Songi! Our ride or die, our forever plus one, our favorite-“

“Alright, alright. Yeah we’ll be there.” You smile, your hand still over Mina’s mouth as Jimin turns and jogs away. When you release her she smacks the back of your head and you whine.

“What was that for??”

“For being stupid dumbass. You’re telling me both you and Jimin thought the bells were super loud and didn’t think that’s sus. He’s clearly your soulmate!” Mina practically screeches, bouncing on her heels in excitement. The spectacle draws the attention of those around you and you can’t help but shy away.

“Shut up! Besides it’s the holiday season, bells are ringing everywhere. There’s no way to tell if it’s actually your soulmate’s bell jingle. Besides Jimin didn’t seem to think anything of it either. Shouldn’t you just know?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one with the found soulmate after all.” Mina shrugs before giving her order to the vendor. She nudges you to give your own but your mind is still reeling. Park Jimin isn’t actually your soulmate, right?

1 day, 1 hour, 37 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

Despite your nonchalance earlier, you feel jittery standing outside the address Jimin sent you. Shivers rack down your spine at the prospect of seeing him again, of being certain that Jimin is your forever. You can hear the music through the door, a rhythmic thumping that you try and match your breathing to. Even if Park Jimin isn’t your soulmate it’s not going to be the end of the world. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, ignoring the way just the idea forms a pit in your stomach. “I know we’re waiting for you to mentally prepare yourself but could you hurry up? I for one would love to witness slutty Jin.” Mina says, nudging you forward lightly with her shoulder.

“Chill out Mina, give the poor girl some time. She’s about to find her soulmate after all.” Songi says, throwing an arm over your shoulder and dragging you into her side. “If it makes you feel better I’ll stay by your side the whole night. We can make fun of Mina shamelessly trying to outdo Seokjin.”

“Hey! Jimin may have said I couldn’t be a slutty Santa but that will never stop me from being the baddest bitch there.” She makes a show of grabbing her sweater and tugging it to emphasize ‘ho’ stitched across the front. Songi has a matching one with Santa losing said hos.

“If I don’t see a dance battle I’m going to be disappointed. After all you promised to do something stupid for me to film. It’s the only reason I decided to come, I mean after supporting you of course.” Songi laughs, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

“Hey I could be an idol with these moves! Ryujin has nothing on me.” Mina huffs, breaking out into the iconic Itzy choreography in the middle of the hallway. You can’t help but crack up at the serious face she makes while ungracefully flailing her limbs. “And you should be grateful to us you hermit! I hope for your sake your soulmate is outgoing because you’ll live your whole life holed up in your apartment otherwise.”

“It’s safer that way. No bugs.” Songi says, causing Mina to push her and nearly send you both crashing to the floor.

“You’re insufferable. I don’t know how I’ve put up with you all these years.”

“You love me, I mean really it’d be hard not too.” Songi shrugs, a smug smile pulled onto her face as she pats Mina’s cheek.

“More like tolerate you and to be honest I’ve reached my limit. Let’s go inside so I can ditch you losers.” Mina throws the door open and heads inside, easily weaving through the bodies crammed inside the small apartment.

“I can just feel the love.” Songi sighs, clutching onto the space over her heart. “Now come on, we can’t find him if we’re in the hallway all night.” Moving to grab your hand she drags you inside, only for you to run into a boy passing through.

“My bad, didn’t think anyone else would be coming by. I have to go get more eggnog before Jin starts screaming at us again.” He smiles, the corner of his lips forming into soft right angles.

“It’s alright.” You murmur, looking around for Mina or Songi. Surely they’re somewhere nearby. Songi is most likely tucked away in some corner, longingly looking for an animal to keep her entertained while Mina is probably at the makeshift bar. If you weren’t so busy looking for your friends maybe you’d pay mind to the soft tinkling of bells and his cardinal red Santa suit wrapped nicely around his frame. Yet even when he breezes past you, your eyes are focused on your two friends. You spot Mina first, surprisingly she’s near the edge of the makeshift dance floor, a drink in her hand and likely about halfway drunk enough to begin belting along to whatever song comes on, even if it’s a terrible EDM mashup of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

You push through the bodies to get to her, almost getting trampled twice before breaking out and grabbing her by the arm before she can walk away. “Oh hey! I got you a drink, I know you don’t like eggnog so I swiped the chocolate milk from the fridge and spiked it myself.” She smiles, shoving a green plastic cup decorated with little lights towards you. You take a sip and wince at the bitter taste, the gingerbread liquor making an interesting concoction. But it’s the thought that counts and you smile despite wanting to cough at the strong flavor.

“Thanks. Where’s Songi?” You ask and Mina curses.

“She was just over in that corner but she’s gone now. Maybe we should try to find her?”

“You know, for someone who claims to hate social interaction she goes off on her own quite easily.” You hum, pushing your way through only to bump into Park Jimin himself. “Sorry.” You say, bumping into Mina from how quickly you try to put space between the two of you. You had momentarily forgotten the whole reason you came was because of Jimin and the possibility that he’s your soulmate. Your hands are suddenly clammy and you rub them against the side of your pants nervously.

“No big deal. Good to see you though! How long have you been here? You should’ve come and said hi to me first.” He whines, his pretty lips drawing into a thick pout, brows upturned as he gives you his best puppy dog look. You can feel yourself melting and all he’s doing is staring at you. The bells around you seem to get louder, Mariah Carey’s iconic Christmas song setting the stage.

“Ahh yeah. Next time! Maybe we could-uhh even come together. If you want to that is.” You smile shyly, pulling your sleeves down over your hands anxiously. You hope he can understand the implication behind your words, and as he steps towards you the bells seem to grow even louder. Someone shoves you from behind and you stumble, body alight with nerves when Jimin catches you. You’re practically shaking, in nerves or excitement you can’t discern. The only thing you can focus on is how pretty Jimin looks cast under red and white lights, his eyes filled with little twinkles. Your breath hitches at how close he is and you look down quickly when he gazes back at you so he can’t read the pure adoration on your face.

Naturally to try and seem less awkward you rush out the first thought that comes to mind. “Your suit is orange?” He takes a step back and you wish to reverse time as the warmth of whiskey and cinnamon on his breath parts from you.

“Ahh yeah, I lost a bet so I had to wear a Santa Suit and Hobi didn’t have enough for us all. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even bother looking at it before renting it. It’s my own fault for being swindled. I should’ve known better than to rent from a halloween shop that was suspiciously still open in December. Can you believe all the other stores were sold out?” Jimin scoffs and despite being interested in his story you can only focus on the way his lips move and pout with each word. They’re a rosy pink, slightly shiny in the dim lighting like he had just put on chapstick or licked his lips. The only thing that draws you out of your stupor is a petite girl throwing her arm around Jimin’s waist.

“Baby!” She exclaims and your eyes widen as Jimin grins down at her, wrapping his hands happily around her own waist and dragging him tightly into her. His smile is the largest you’ve ever seen on him, cheeks particularly squished in utmost happiness and his expression being what you could only describe as love. You can feel your heart breaking already. “Hi I’m Jisoo!” You think you’re going to be sick to your stomach, not just because Jimin is in love with someone else but because the girl you’re supposed to hate is so nice. She smiles at you warmly like you weren’t just staring at her boyfriend’s lips and wondering what they’d taste like.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Isn’t my soulmate so cute?” Jimin asks you, his eyes sparkling like diamonds as he squishes her cheek between two fingers. Your breath starts to quicken and you smile widely to hide the way your eyes begin to fill with tears.

“You both are adorable together.” You manage to get out, impressed with how natural it sounds despite how tense you feel. The bells in your head are just mocking you now as you make up an excuse to leave, the two of them so wrapped up in each other they don’t pay mind to your absence. Clearing your throat you head to the bathroom to try and get some privacy for your inevitable break down only to run into Mina and some guy in a Santa suit stumbling out.

“Y/n!” Mina cheers, too intoxicated to notice the way small tears begin to fall down your face. The hallway is rather dark and yet you can still make out the guy next to her with a curved nose and reddened ears. He looks a little embarrassed to be caught after an obvious rendezvous in a bathroom at a party and yet his hands still wind around Mina’s waist comfortably when she pulls away from you. “My soulmate’s an elf!” She cackles and you welcome the distraction her words bring.

“What?” You ask confused. The guy beside her is wearing a Santa costume, you’re sure of it.

“Hoseok is a mall elf! You know the guy with the hot legs? It’s him, my soulmate!” She squeals excitedly, grabbing him by the arm and smiling up at him blissfully.

“How are you sure?” You don’t mean to sound so bitter, but Mina never mentioned hearing bells at the mall nor did she mention hearing bells when you caught her earlier. If anything this could just be her wishful thinking like her suggestion of Jimin being your soulmate.

“You just kinda know! Like at the mall when we passed I wrote it off as shop bells. Then when I got here and we bumped into each other I just knew it was actually him. And when we touched it was like I was struck by lightning.” Your face must show incredulity because she just smiles at you.

“I know, I know. It sounds super cliche but it’s true. Though now that we’ve touched a lot more it’s wearing down.” She giggles, winking at him and reveling in the way the blush burns brighter. He sticks his hand out to you after squeezing her waist and you stare at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though.” His smile takes the form of a heart as he grins at you and Mina practically squeals.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to talk later but I have to use the bathroom.” You nod behind them and Hoseok seems to realize he’s standing in the doorway and moves aside bashfully.

“So sorry! Didn’t realize I was still standing there.” You just give him a tight-lipped smile and nod, moving past them quickly. Your silence seems to be what draws Mina’s concern, a tentative hand coming to grab your forearm lightly.

“Y/n-“ She starts but you gently brush her off.

“I’m fine. Really don’t worry about me.” You say softly before locking the door and sliding down it. It’s in the comfort of the quiet bathroom that you allow the tears to freely fall and mourn the soulmate you didn’t have.

22 hours, 45 minutes, 35 seconds until Christmas

You finally find Songi, a random cat cuddled up in her arms as she’s squished into a small chair nestled by the kitchen. She’s a little hazy in your mind, it feels a bit like you’re looking at her underwater, and you smile at her lazily before plopping down into her lap. “Be careful!” She scolds, holding the cat up higher so it’s curled into her chest instead. You just blink slowly at her in response and she sighs. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“After I cried for like thirty minutes I stole a bottle of peppermint schnapps and drank the whole thing.” You sigh, resting your head against her own.

“Why’d you cry? I wish you would’ve told me you were upset, I would’ve suggested we leave right away.”

“Park Jimin already has a soulmate…it’s not me. I know chances were already slim because he’s Park Jimin and well, I’m me but I just thought maybe this would be it. I finally would have someone to share everything with and I wouldn’t.. be so lonely.” You murmur out the last part, your drunken state revealing the thoughts that consumed you upon meeting Jisoo. No matter how much you mentally prepared yourself for the possibility of Jimin being a fluke, you weren’t ready for just how brutal the disappointment was.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being you. Besides I’d never let Park Jimin sit on my lap and yet here you are, perched upon a throne.” You can’t help the small giggle you let out. Songi always knows what to say to cheer you up.

“You’re so weird you know that? You’re the only person I know who refers to thighs as a throne.”

“Don’t judge me and my preferences. You drool over hands and I drool over thighs, it’s perfectly normal. Anyways, I know you mean romantically but I’ll always be here if you want someone to cry with or to yell at fictional characters about their stupidity with you. You’re my best friend.” Despite her hatred of hugs and physical contact Songi retracts her arms from the cat to put them around you instead, gently giving you a squeeze. It’s a little awkward because she’s terrible at hugs but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“How about we get out of here okay?” She suggests and you nod, wincing as your head starts to pound. The alcohol must be catching up to you. The pounding is then followed by ringing, and you hold your head in your hands as church bells ring in your ears. The world is truly out to make a mockery of your life.

“You okay? Here sit down a minute.” Songi ushers you into the chair as she hovers above you, rushing off to get some water for you.

“Taehyung really shouldn’t have been in charge of the playlist.” Someone from beside you sighs but you can’t look up at them for the sake of your pounding headache. “I think I’m going to have bells ringing in my head for days.” They sigh before they seem to notice you. “Hey you okay?” They ask, a hand placed on your shoulder in concern but the electricity that runs down your spine makes you gasp. Your skin prickles in goosebumps but Songi is just near enough that she takes your gasp as extreme pain instead of astonishment.

“I’m sorry I took so long!” She says, throwing your arm around her shoulders haphazardly before hauling you up and against her.

“Hey wait-“ The voice from beside you starts, but Songi brushes them off.

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna steal your cat this time. But don’t let him roam around with a bunch of drunk people. I almost saw him get stepped on five times by idiots.” For a brief second you manage enough strength to turn your head without wanting to throw up and blearily lock eyes with a pair of chocolate brown ones. They’re swimming with something you can’t quite make out: pain, regret, longing. But then Songi calls your name and you turn away to make sure you don’t smack into the front door. It’s odd but you can feel a pit in your stomach the further you walk away and his eyes are imprinted on the back of your lids with every blink.

14 hours, 18 minutes, 22 seconds until Christmas

“Wake up bitches!” Mina screams, banging on your and Songi’s doors and you groan. Rolling over, you throw the pillow over your head and try to fall back asleep to avoid the way your head pounds. Mina throws your door open and you wince when it smacks against the wall next to it. “You can’t evade me.” She says, reaching for your comforter and trying to throw it off. However, you predicted this to happen when you flipped over and cling tightly to the fluffy bedding, expertly disrupting her evil plan. Mina huffs in annoyance and you hide your grin in your sheets before releasing a puff of air when she jumps on top of you. “Wake! Up!” She yells, jumping on top of you like you’re some human trampoline.

“You’re the worst kind of person.” You grumble, rolling over to come face to face with her smile.

“Thanks! Now I want to eat cookies for breakfast and I refuse to eat them alone like it’s a shameful activity.” True in her shameless fashion she’s only wearing a baggy t-shirt, her neck exposed and colored various shades of purple and red. Though your night was unexplainably horrible you’re glad at least someone had a good time.

“I want Songi’s cookies. Hers always look pretty.”

“You mean you don’t want to try my cinnamon bourbon toffee snickerdoodles? I saw it on tiktok and they took me two hours! I nearly set the oven on fire!” You wrinkle your nose at the memory of two days ago, and coming home from finishing up one of your last papers to her covered in flour and the counters doused in eggs. It’s like she somehow got in a food fight with herself.

“And that’s precisely why they shouldn’t exist in the first place. You didn’t even know how to turn on the oven.” Songi murmurs, leant against your doorway.

“You’re all ungrateful, uncultured swines.” She huffs, though she still proceeds to make you all hot chocolates when you emerge from your room. The three of your are sat at the kitchen counter, plates full of cookies and Songi’s mom’s homemade fudge. If anything can cure a hangover it’s gorging yourself on unhealthy food.

“Did I ever tell you one kid in high school called me an uncultured swine because I didn’t know the rat from the ninja turtles?” Songi says, munching on her own frosted sugar cookie. It was her first attempt at a 3D wreath but turned out to be more like a bush of frosting. For most it’d be deemed to sweet and disgusting to ingest but Songi happily licks away at the icing.

“What is the rat’s name?” Mina asks, and Songi just shrugs.

“I still don’t know honestly.”

“Why were you up so early anyways? Don’t you normally sleep until noon?” You ask Mina, noticing the way she turns away from you almost shyly.

“Hobi slept over and he had to go back to work early to return the Santa suits he stole before his boss found out.” The Santa suits spring a memory to mind and you suddenly recall seeing more than just one. Though Jimin did mention there being others, you only saw Hobi and Jin wearing them.

“Why were so many people wearing Santa suits anyways? I thought Jin wanted to be the only one.”

“The only slutty one, so naturally he was wearing the top of the suit like a robe and cut the pants into thot shorts. Hobi was understandably pissed about that one since they were only borrowing the suits after all. But it was some bet, he told me about it last night but I was too drunk to remember.” Looking into your drink the swirling chocolate then reminds you of eyes and the tingling feeling down your back when a warm palm rested on your shoulder.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, suddenly standing up and running to your room. Mina and Songi are hot on your heels, watching curiously as you bounce around on one foot while struggling to pull your jeans over your thighs and hips.

“Where are you going?” Songi asks and you widen your eyes at the realization that she’s the only one who would’ve seen their face.

“Songi who did you see before you took me home? Who had their hand on my shoulder?” You ask, running up to grab her by the upper arms and shake her almost desperately. “Songi I need to know who it was.”

“What’s this all about? Did they steal from you or something?” Mina asks and you throw your head back in a frustrated groan.

“No they’re my soulmate!”

“Babe-“ Mina starts and your glare at the pity in her expression.

“I’m being serious. I felt the sparks or whatever and I can see his eyes when we walked away. I just can’t remember anything else. Songi you have to remember who they were.” You plead to the both of them and they look back at you rather sadly.

“I’m sorry but I’ve never seen them before. I think they were wearing a Santa costume but I don’t remember much else about them.” She says and you can’t help but deflate. You actually found your soulmate and got so drunk you can’t remember anything about them. Great.

“Are you sure they’re your soulmate anyways. I passed by you later that night and you seemed pretty wasted but maybe after Jimin you just thought-“

“No I didn’t make up a soulmate just because I was depressed that Jimin wasn’t mine. You know how you just knew with Hoseok? Well I just know with him. How many people were wearing Santa costumes?”

“Six.” Mina says but Songi disagrees and says there’s seven.

“A guy came in later with another suit. That’s how I found the cat, it was just following him around and I heard the little bell on the collar.”

“You-you heard a cat bell at a party filled with drunk people screaming?” Mina asks, her face twisted up in confusion. You have to admit that does seem like it’s rather unlikely that someone would be able to discern such a quiet sound with so much commotion.

“I have exceptional hearing, of course I heard it. Besides this isn’t some fanfic where we all find our soulmates in the same place. The guy did have a pretty face though, I wouldn’t mind looking at it upon closer inspection.” Songi shrugs, staring off dreamily like the cat guy is standing right in front of her.

“Do you think Hobi can give me the name of the guys he leant the suits to?” You ask and Mina sighs.

“Just don’t get your hopes up too much okay? Songi only thinks he was wearing a Santa costume. I just don’t want to see you heartbroken again.” She pats your head softly, almost motherly, and you give her your best smile.

13 hours, 45 minutes, 36 seconds until Christmas

The name Min Yoongi swirls around your brain as you stand outside of Bored and Brewed. It’s tucked between a music supply store and a flower shop, leafy plants hanging above the entrance and the large front windows blocked in by thin rectangular frames. You can see warm lights strewn across the cafe from outside, casting it in a golden hue as soft pink chairs and petal green couches decorate the inside. The bell above you jingles and you tersely smile, flashbacks of your embarrassment from misinterpreting a common sound during the holiday season returning. Hoseok gave no description of what Min Yoongi would look like, only stating that he’s a frequenter of this specific cafe given it’s proximity to your university’s music school buildings. Though Jimin mentioned all his friends were leaving today, you’re still hopeful that your soulmate will stick around long enough for you to find them. This is a matter of fate after all, the universe wouldn’t allow you to meet them before Christmas only to end up spending the day alone right? No matter how cruel the world normally seems you refuse to believe it would do this to you.

Upon entry the guy behind the counter smiles at you, then goes back to busying himself on the phone while you look at the menu. You’re not one for liking strong coffee, so your eyes naturally linger towards the sweeter drinks that are on the special menu. The bell to the shop rings again but you don’t pay it any mind, too fixated on trying to figure out what you want.

“I wouldn’t get the peppermint drink if I were you. They load it with sugar and whipped cream so it doesn’t taste like anything.” A voice from behind you says and you nod along. “I’d get the sugar cookie one, it’s not super sweet but also has a nice flavor. It’s the only thing I get that’s not actual coffee.” He hums and you decide to go ahead and order that before you make the guy behind you wait any longer.

“Make that two. I’m feeling particularly generous today.” He hands over some cash before you can say anything and you whip around to face him. Wavy black hair covers his brows, most of it tucked inside a gray beanie. A baggy hoodie and black skinny jeans adorn the rest of his figure and he gives you a tight lipped smile with the edges quirked upwards.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You follow him to the pick up area for your drinks, tucking your hands into your pockets to try and hide your nervous fiddling.

“I try to do a good deed every day so today that’s you it seems.” His voice is low and soft, a quiet rumbling in the wind.

“Well I appreciate it.” You say and silence falls between the two of you. Your mind is searching for something to say to fill the silence but the barista comes by with your two drinks. You’re about to just leave the conversation at the polite end but the barista’s words catches your attention.

“Feel free to buy me a drink sometime Yoongi.” He laughs.

“Yoongi?” You ask and the boy with the beanie turns back to you.

“Yeah?”

“As in Min Yoongi. Hobi’s friend?” You press further and the boy’s confusion turns to skepticism.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well you see I met my soulmate last night at the party but I don’t remember who they were, just that they were wearing a Santa costume.” You murmur, following behind when Yoongi makes a move to leave the shop.

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe in soulmates. I think you should have a say in who’s right for you.” Despite the coldness of his words, his tone is still soft- sympathetic almost.

“Yoongi wait!” You exclaim, grabbing onto his wrist with your own hand. The bell above the store chimes above you and for a second you allow yourself to believe you’re the one to change how Yoongi feels about soulmates. And yet you feel no goosebumps when your skin touches his, only the slightly dry texture of his palm when he gently takes your hand off him. “The-the bells. I can’t lose my soulmate again, please.” The end comes off as a whisper and Yoongi must take pity on you because he gives you a gentle smile.

“The bells were from above the door. But I can give you the name of another Santa, his name is Jin. He’s the one who hosted the party. He works at the restaurant I play piano for, he should be there picking up his check because the manager is old fashioned. If you hurry you can probably catch him. Two blocks down, it’s the fancy place with the stupid golden archway like a high end McDonalds.” He pats your upper arm twice before walking away. Though you miss the way he turns to watch you run around the small corner mumbling a small good luck at your parting figure.

13 hours, 30 minutes, 23 seconds until Christmas

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said the place did have a strange high-end McDonalds feel. The golden arches are spotless, reflecting the red and green lights scattered in some windows of the buildings across the street. The doors are large french ones with gold painted around the trim and a guy in a butler’s outfit opens them for you. You thank him before heading inside, observing the grandiose chandeliers and poinsettias decorating the host stand. A girl with long blonde hair smiles at you before asking if you need a table.

“Actually I was looking for Jin? He has blonde hair and really wide shoulders.” It’s the only information Yoongi offered but the girl in front of you nods in understanding and you can’t help the sigh of relief you let out.

“He just came in to get something so I’ll find him and let him know you’re waiting for him. Can I get your name?”

“Umm just tell him Hobi’s friend is waiting.” You say nervously, pulling at the strings of your sweater to busy yourself. She just nods before walking away and you stuff three of the free mints in your mouth to try and ease yourself. That is before you realize they’re peppermint flavored and instantly start gagging as the taste of last night’s peppermint liquor surfaces. With your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gagging, Jin walks into the lobby and spots you. His eyes widen in recognition, sparkling as he gets nearer. And as he draws closer a distant tinkling sounds rings out and your eyes water with tears. Is your soulmate perhaps the sluttiest Santa of them all?

“I’d remember you from anywhere. You stole my entire bottle of Peppermint Schnapps out of my secret liquor cabinet. I’m surprised you could reach it to be honest, I have to climb on the counter to grab it myself so you must’ve done some serious spider man shit.” He smiles and you wish the ground would swallow you whole. You have no recollection of doing that. What had Mina put in your first drink?

“Ahh yes. I was hoping I could speak to you privately.” Your eyes dart to the blonde hostess, perched on the host stand and conveniently leaning toward the two of you to hear closer.

“I was going to steal some food from the back before I left. You want anything?” He asks, walking towards the kitchen with you following him like some lovesick puppy. At this point you refuse to let your soulmate be taken from you any longer.

“What do you have?”

“Anything you could ever want. I’m heading home after this so I need some snacks for the drive.” He picks up a baguette and fruit, before opening the freezer and pulling out ready made desserts and quiches. “You think the caviar is here yet?” He asks to himself before rifling through some more shelves and letting out a loud ‘aha!’

“You hold this.” He says, giving you the expensive caviar and gesturing for you to hide it under your shirt.

“You want me to smuggle it out?” You exclaim and Jin quickly shushes you.

“It’s not smuggling, it’s borrowing. If there’s any left I’ll return it.” He says, pushing you away from the kitchen and walking normally like he doesn’t have a baguette and many other foods in his arms.

“Isn’t that a health violation?” You ask and Jin rolls his eyes.

“What are you? The health inspector? Besides you weren’t worried about health violations last night.” He says, leading you towards the front. The tinkling sound is particularly loud here and you finally gather the courage to question him about your real intentions.

“Speaking of last night, I don’t actually remember much. But I do know I found my soulmate.” You start, looking towards him and Jin hums in acknowledgement. “And he was wearing a Santa suit…so as you know, you were also wearing one. So I was thinking-“

“I’m your soulmate?” Jin says and you nearly drop the bowl of caviar that’s tucked underneath your shirt.

“You are? Honestly that’s such a relief because I’ve been stressing myself out about trying to find them before it was actually Christmas so I don’t have to spend another alone. You said you were having to go to your family’s right? Would I be able to come with? I know we’ve only just met but I can’t imagine having to be alone again and-“ Seokjin has tucked the baguette under his arm, a finger pressed delicately to your lips.

“This is very flattering, truly the sweetest soulmate confession I’ve received thus far. But I have to stop you because I’m not your soulmate. You think you’re hearing bells right? The bus boys are polishing all the glasses and they always knock them into each other.” When he sees your eyes water again he gently wipes the falling tears. “I know you’re looking to find them and I want to help you. You said it was a Santa right? Lucky for you all my friend’s wore the costume because of Taehyung’s punishment. They were betting the length of time it would take Taehyung to smuggle a cat out of the shelter he works at. If you ask me I think it was rigged since Taehyung was the determinator of the bet length but my friends are stupid at best so they overlooked that. I was going to be slutty Santa anyways so I didn’t really care what they did. The only surprise was Taehyung being a freak and wearing a suit as well. Can you believe it was just because he wanted to be festive and not to get someone to sit in his lap?”

You can only sniffle and nod, internally questioning if trying to find your soulmate today was really a good idea. Mina did warn you about the potential heartbreak but you had been stubborn and unwilling to listen. The universe has had it out for you thus far, so why would it suddenly take pity on you and make things easy? “Hey, hey don’t give up. I’ll send you the shelter address and you can stop by when you’re ready. He should be there all day, his family is coming up here tomorrow so he has nothing better to do.” Jin says.

“You don’t think this is stupid? That I’m searching for something that clearly wasn’t meant to happen?”

“I don’t think any matter of the heart is something to criticize. If you really wanna find your soulmate you will, I believe in you. And Hobi must’ve believed in you too if he gave you our government names and locations. He wouldn’t give them out to strangers he didn’t trust. Or at least I hope he doesn’t, I’m much too beautiful to be held hostage.”

“Thanks Jin. That was oddly encouraging.”

“There’s nothing that a pretty face can’t fix. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must coast to the gas station and stand there until someone offers to pay for me. The sugar daddies are normally out right about now so that’s my queue. And when you find your soulmate, tell him he and his garbage truck stomach owe me groceries.”

“You know who it is?” You ask and Jin only shrugs.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll see you at the next party y/n.” He winks.

12 hours, 28 minutes, 12 seconds until Christmas

“Did you find them?” Songi asks excitedly when you enter the apartment and you shake your head in reply. You’re not exactly completely discouraged but you feel nowhere near as excited and prepared as you were earlier. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” She asks, tentatively sitting on the couch beside you.

“Can we just watch a fun movie or something? i don’t really want to think at the moment.”

“How about a drama instead? Someone I know really loves Goblin.” She sings, already reaching for the remote.

“Goblin would be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve watched it.” You hum, snuggling under a fluffy blanket thrown across the back of the couch and curling up next to Songi.

“You want some popcorn? I can make hot chocolate or something if you want.” She offers but you shake your head and lean your head on her shoulder.

“I just want to mindlessly watch some dramas and pretend I’m the main characters.” You say and she merely nods before turning Goblin on.

“We can do that.” You both settle in comfortably, your body easing as the stress and emotional toll begin to weigh on you. Maybe what you needed was to just relax before putting yourself back out there. Besides Taehyung was supposed to be at the shelter all day, you had plenty of time. And even if you missed Taehyung, even if you didn’t find your soulmate by Christmas, you wouldn’t truly be alone. You had Songi right here with you, someone who had already offered to bring you with her when she saw her family tomorrow. It was with this warming realization that you finally allowed yourself to stop thinking, and close your eyes to get a peaceful sleep.

8 hours, 32 minutes, 56 seconds until Christmas

“You two took a nap and I wasn’t invited? You know napping is my favorite part of the day.” Mina whines, setting bags down onto the kitchen counter before squeezing between you and Songi on the couch. “Oo I love this scene! Though I have to say Nam Joo Hyuk’s swim scenes in weightlifting fairy were the best part of any drama I’ve seen thus far. When I tell you I almost drooled.” She sighs, batting away the pillow that Songi attempts to hit her with.

“How dare you talk about my man like that.” Songi huffs dramatically before pouting. “Besides he’s best as Nam Do San. If I could marry any character it’d be him.”

“He’s cute but I wouldn’t want him.” You say.

“Yes, yes. We all know you like your men older.” Mina cackles, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Hey they don’t have to be! I just- I don’t know, I want someone who could take care of me.”

“In all ways.” Mina giggles, her voice choked when you smack her dead in the face with the pillow beside you.

“None of that in my christian household!” You giggle to which she gasps, accosted.

“Then tell Songi to stop her weird thigh club thing!”

“I am part of the weightlifting club it’s not my fault we focus on squats!” Songi says, her voice rising significantly higher as she attempts to defend herself.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t join because you heard Wonho was the president.” Mina challenges, giggling when Songi’s cheeks bloom pretty roses.

“Sh-shut up. If you can have your hoe hours so can I. Besides Wonho’s my friend now, so I don’t admire them as much anymore.”

“You’re right, you admire them respectfully.” You add, laughing harder when Songi flips you off in retaliation.

“I hate you all. I need someone who will truly love me and be on my side.” She whines, standing up and moving to put on her shoes by the front door.

“Where are you going now?” Mina asks.

“To get a cat!” Songi exclaims, grabbing her bag off the rack by the door and storming out. You know she’s not really mad, but you also know there’s a one-hundred percent chance she’s coming back with a cat despite your lease directly stating it doesn’t allow animals.

You settle back onto the couch before your eyes widen and you jump up to put on your own shoes. “And where are you going?”

“I need to go to the shelter to see Taehyung and Songi’s the only one with a car!” You shout, running out the door and after her. You sprint down the stairs, it’s the most exercise you think you’ve gotten this year, and make it into the parking garage just as Songi unlocks her car. “Songi wait! Let me come with.” You yell, crossing over to her and throwing the passenger door open before she can say no.

“If you’re also getting a cat I get first dibs. It was my idea after all.” She says, waiting patiently for you to buckle up before pulling out. “Hey can you find directions for the nearest shelter? I know there’s one on third but I have no idea where third is.”

“Yeah I have the address for one.” You say, pulling up the place Jin sent you.

8 hours, 16 minutes, 24 seconds

The shelter itself is pretty small, but there’s a large fenced-in play area in the back. It’s filled with new toys and the sight makes you smile, especially at the few puppies that topple over each other when they trip while chasing one another. Your eyes linger on them a little longer and your heart pangs a little as you miss your dog from back home. You were supposed to see your family this winter season but all the flights in your home city were too expensive so you’ll have to see them after New Years instead. While you’ll get to see your family in a little over a week, you still miss them greatly especially when everyone is talking about going home to their own families.

“Do you want a dog instead?” Songi asks and you shake your head.

“No I don’t think I’m getting any pets. I have a umm friend who works here though.” You say, tucking your arm around hers and dragging her inside.

“Do you think they’ll give me a discount?” She asks, squeezing your arm when you tense at the little bell ringing above the door. At this point you hate bells and anything that has to deal with them.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll give you them free if you get two.” A smooth voice says, a boy with a black mullet and sharp eyebrows stepping in from the back. He smiles widely at you, rosy lips drawing into an almost blinding smile.

“Two might be a bit much for us.” You laugh stiffly. “I think we’re fine with just one.”

“Cat or dog?” He asks.

“Cat. Do you have any old cats? I’d like to give an elder guy a happy home.” Songi smiles and the beautiful man’s brows pinch.

“Taehyung is more familiar with the cats, I’ll go get him so he can show you around.”

“Sweet, thanks.” She says with a nod, tapping her feet to an imaginary beat. “Do you think I’ll find one that likes me? What if they all hate me?” Songi asks you, worry painted in her features.

“I’m sure they’ll all adore you. You’re difficult to not love.” You tell her, her shoulders sagging in relief.

“I just want to give them all the love in the world.” She says. “Oh do you think they sell collars? Something’s jingling.” She comments and before you can say anything the boy you first ran into last night appears. His boxy smile graces his features, dark eyes and long lashes fluttering as his gaze fixates on Songi.

“You’re the one looking for a cat?” He asks, his baritone voice causing a blush to rise to her skin. In fact, his voice when paired with his features seems to have glitched her brain out because she’s not moving at all. Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide as she takes in Taehyung. Several seconds have passed and she has yet to even so much as breathe. You nudge her shoulder and she seems to reboot, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah.” She says breathily.

“Jaebum told me you wanted one of the older ones. I’ll show you the ones who’ve been here the longest too.” He says, urging you to follow him through the door on the left. “The first section is where we keep the older ones, hoping they’ll catch someone’s eye before they see the kittens.” He explains, gesturing to a large enclosure filled with cat beds and towers.

“Can we go inside?” Songi asks and Taehyung nods, opening the gate and allowing you both to enter before a cat can escape. Songi instantly takes a liking to a white fluffy one that’s sprawled on a blue bed in the corner. It’s ears twitch with each step she makes and she pauses when she’s an arms reach away.

“Hello.” She begins introducing herself to the cat and your eyes flicker to Taehyung who gazes at her almost fondly. Your stomach sinks because it’s clear you’re much more aware that Taehyung doesn’t have a belled collar in his pocket than Songi. Seeing her so clueless to her inevitable soulmate standing so close by allows you to give yourself forgiveness for being so clueless yesterday.

“That one’s named Gucci. Named him myself because he’s a rare breed.”

“Does that mean he’s going to be expensive too?” She jokes.

“Probably, he’s an old guy after all. Sometimes they develop health complications. This boy right here is thirteen and has been here for about two years I think?” Taehyung supplies and Songi immediately frowns.

“My poor baby.” She coos, gently reaching forward to scratch behind his ear and then further under his chin. “You wanna come live at my house? I’ll sneak you all the chicken you want.”

The cat just blinks at her, rather slowly, before sniffing her palm. Songi immediately takes this as a yes and tells Taehyung that she’ll take him. “A good choice if I must say so myself. You two look cute together.” Taehyung smiles before his eyes widen until they’re nearly entirely round like he didn’t realize what he was saying until it was already out of his mouth. He doesn’t retract them or try and make them less flirtatious however. He merely just walks away with a slight blush decorating the apples of his cheeks while mumbling about leaving to get paper work and a soft crate.

“You like him right?’ Songi asks and you just shrug despite the large smile pulling at your face.

“Taehyung? He seems really sweet.” You giggle to which she shushes you vehemently.

“He might hear you! Besides he’s way out of my league, there’s no way he’d like me back. Plus I already have a man in my life and he’s right here.” She tugs Gucci into her lap, pressing a small kiss to his nose.

“I will not let you turn into a cat lady. You’re already a hermit at twenty.”

“But people make me nervous.” She whines. Taehyung enters again before you can comment any further, the soft crate draped over his shoulder with a fluffy blanket tucked inside.

“I’ll come in with you and when you’re done signing, I’ll put him in the crate. Sometimes they put up a fight when you try and get them in there and I don’t want him scratching you.” Taehyung tells Songi and she just nods along. You can tell she’s stalling because the two pages takes her about five minutes, as she pretends to care about having neat handwriting. You’re pretty sure she’s working up the nerve to say something to Taehyung so you decide to do it for her.

“Taehyung do you have a collar on you? I think Gucci would look really cute with one with like a bowtie bell.” You ask and his mouth parts slightly open, brows pulled together in confusion. It gives off a similar vibe to when your puppy cocks his head to the side when it can’t figure out what you’re saying.

“We don’t have any collars here. We don’t want the animals to get caught on anything and owners usually like to pick out their own.”

“You mean you don’t have one in your pocket?” Songi asks, equally as confused. You love her but for being so academically smart she can be so slow.

“No.” Taehyung says before turning to her with startled eyes. “You can hear bells?”

“Yeah. Should I not be able to?”

“I can hear them too!” He yells, startling half the cats but he pays them no mind as he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you…my soulmate.” He says it dreamily even though Songi is right in front of him and although your chances of finding your own is dwindling significantly you can’t help but be happy for your friend. She’s lit up under Taehyung’s attention, smiling so wide you think your own cheeks are starting to hurt. “And you my little man,” Taehyung says, squishing Gucci’s head between his large hands. “I’m going to be your dad!”

7 hours, 45 minutes, 31 seconds until Christmas

After finally convincing Taehyung to let Songi go, only under the terms that you’ll meet him at a nearby diner to get food, you wind up back in your apartment. Mina is gone, probably either on her way home or out with Hoseok so it’s quiet when Songi enters with Gucci. It’s probably a good thing as Taehyung warned you both that moving was quite stressful for a cat and he’d want a quiet room to hang out by himself until he felt comfortable. Gingerly taking him to her room, Songi sets up his things before opening Gucci’s crate and quietly closing the door. “I hope he doesn’t pee on my stuff.” She comments suddenly.

“I doubt it. He probably won’t even leave the crate for a few hours.”

“You think he’ll like it here?” Songi asks, following you out of the apartment and back down to her car. Taehyung wanted to go to somewhere near his work since he biked there this morning and Songi was happy to oblige even if she normally hates driving at night.

“I think so, I know you’ll shower him with as much love as you can. He’d have no reason not to like it.”

“Taehyung?” She asks, laughing to herself for parroting you from earlier. “I know, you meant the cat. But on a serious note, the cat will like me better than him right? It’d be so depressing for my cat to like my boyfriend more than me.”

“Mmm that one is hard. Your boyfriend is scarily beautiful.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.” Songi whines.

“I am, I’m just speaking facts. It doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful too.” Your phone buzzes and it’s a text from Mina asking what your plans are for tonight. You guess Mina didn’t go home after all.

“Is it okay if Mina comes along? Hobi’s probably with her too.” You ask, already typing out a reply because you know Songi will agree.

“That’s fine. But hey, can you give me directions again? I really don’t know where I’m supposed to be going.”

4 hours, 47 minutes, 27 seconds until Christmas

Songi is sidled up beside Taehyung, his arm resting on her leg while Hobi has his arm wrapped around Mina’s shoulders. You’re all crammed inside a small circular booth, mountains of food spread around the table as you joke around about nothing in particular. You had forgotten Taehyung and Hobi were close friends, having met so many of said friends that it feels like everyone is just a friend of a friend. And yet despite being the only one without a significant other, you don’t feel left out or lonely. In fact, you’re the happiest you’ve been these past two days as you listen to Taehyung ramble on about the time he had to streak across campus.

“Should I be horrified that the campus security guards know what my boyfriend’s dick looks like before I do?” Songi laughs.

“Hey they only got a preview, you get the full movie.” She giggles to which you all collectively groan.

“Gross!” Songi says, making Taehyung beside her pout.

“I don’t know why I thought finding Hobi would make you any less shameless.” You chuckle.

“Hey you all love me like this. Take it or leave it as they say.” Mina says, dipping a fry in ranch before popping it into her mouth. “You sure you can handle all this Hobi?” She asks to which he only winks. Lord help you, there’s two of them.

“I think our best moment was when we convinced Namjoon to sneak into the science labs and set all the testing rats free. Imagine this like six foot tall man screaming as a bunch of little white rats chase after him.” Taehyung giggles.

“What he didn’t know was that Jungkook had stuffed cheese into the pockets of his cargo pants so the rats were trying to get a midnight snack.” Hobi snickers.

“Where’d they all go?” Songi asks.

“They just kinda scattered around campus. I’m sure half of them live near the dining halls now.” Hobi says.

“Do you think they formed packs? Or are they like Remy from Ratatouille and are going to take over as chefs. The dining halls could really use an upgrade. Remember when we used to trek across campus just to get a decent dinner?” Taehyung asks.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you two go and ask them?” Mina snickers.

“Jungkook.” They both say suddenly like that’s a reasonable and valid answer.

“Jungkook.” You repeat, the words somewhat familiar on your tongue. Why did you know that name? Pulling out your phone you look back to the list of names Hoseok had given you of those who wore Santa costumes and gasp. “Jungkook!”

“Yes that is his name.” Taehyung adds dryly.

“Jungkook was wearing a Santa suit! At the party. He’s one of the two left. Do you know where I can find him?” You ask and Hobi shrugs.

“He’s probably gone home by this hour. He was whining so much about missing his mom that I’m sure he left earlier this morning to go see her sooner.” You visibly deflate and Taehyung decides to offer up additional advice.

“Jungkook and Namjoon live together. That’s two of your list right? I’ll send you the address and you can see if anyone is home.”

“Don’t you think that’s a violation of privacy?” Hobi whispers.

“Nah it’s fine. A bunch of porn sights probably track their location with all the viruses Namjoon downloads anyways.” Taehyung says this so casually that you wonder if a big part of Namjoon’s personality is liking erotic videos. You really hope not, soulmate or not. You have a threshold for that type of conversation and Mina is relatively mild but even she regularly meets said threshold.

“Anyways, they’re not that far from here if you want me to walk you there. I live nearby anyways.” Taehyung offers.

“If you’re sure.”

“No problem.”

4 hours, 15 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

The apartment building is small, the colors muted brown and had Taehyung not pointed it out to you, you would’ve missed it entirely. The only source of light is small patio lights strewn between the buildings, the likes of which are only a few stories tall. Taehyung tells you the apartment number before riding off, leaving you to your own devices. Except, you realize too late that despite the buildings being rather old they’ve upgraded to modern systems. Which means you need a fob to get in. You could walk home and call it a night, but at this point you’re just annoyed and stubborn. So instead you meander through the convenience store for a half hour, pretending that you care about the difference between regular and kettle chips when you spot someone walking towards the gate. Abandoning the aisle, you hurry out of the store and cross the street.

“Hey! I lost my fob could you let me in?” You ask, a pleasant smile on your face to try and sway the guy. You can’t see his face well, it’s obscured by a black baseball cap but you can see the distrust in his eyes. “Please?” You try again.

“I guess.” He mumbles, holding the door for you to slip inside. You have half a mind to warn him against doing such things in the case of strangers only to realize that you are the stranger in this situation.

“Thanks!” You say, hurrying away before he can kick you out. The guy working the convenience store was definitely taking note of your blatant loitering and he didn’t seem like the type to ignore it. It turns out the building coordination here is quite complex because while you’d think 101-106 would be on the right and 093-100 on the left, 093-100 is actually the next building over. It’s like they put the apartment numbers in a random generator and just let that decide the order. You’re making your fifth round of building B like a creep when you decide to just sit in the stairwell in shame. It’s clear this apartment complex is your own personal form of hell for trying to best the soulmate system which so clearly doesn’t want you to find your soulmate before the holidays. You already have your phone out to call Mina and express your woes when you hear the door below you attached to the stairwell open. Before you can scramble out of the way a pair of multicolored chunky sneakers stand on the step beneath your own.

“You okay?” The stranger asks and you just nod. “Are you sure? You look a little lost.”

“Metaphorically and physically, yes I am very lost. I have somehow found my soulmate and forgot them within the same day, I’ve been running around the city chasing after fucking Santa like an insane person and I have no idea where the fuck apartment 387 is.” You sigh, glad to release at least some of your pent up frustration. The stranger takes a minute before holding out a hand for you to grab.

“Lucky for you I happen to know where apartment 387 is.” His smile is indented by deep dimples, nicely framing thick lips.

“Really?” You ask, slipping your hand into his own and allowing him to drag you up.

“Sure thing. If you’re this determined to meet your soulmate I’m sure they’re equally distraught at not finding you yet.” He offers thoughtfully and you just hum.

“I don’t know, don’t you think I’d have run into them by now? I’ve been all around the city today.”

“Two moving pieces are just as hard to connect as two not moving at all.” The stranger offers before stopping in front of door 387. Just as you’re about to thank him he unlocks it and looks back at you with a wide smile. “How about you come in and have a drink? He should be home soon anyways. Probably equally as frustrated as yourself.”

“If it’s not a bother…”

“Hey you’re my best friend’s soulmate, you’ll never be a bother. Besides I try and do one good deed a day, so reuniting lost lovers can be that.”

“Funny, Yoongi said the same thing.” You muse to yourself.

“Who do you think taught him? I’m Namjoon by the way.” You freeze, mind struggling to pair the apparent porn addict with the insightful, sophisticated man in front of you. He notices this pause and frowns. “What did one of my idiots for friends say?”

“Uhh…maybe just something about porn.” You mumble and Namjoon just takes a moment to deeply sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“You should know they’re the ones who asked me to download it.” He huffs. “Chamomile or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate is just fine.” You say, taking a a moment to observe the apartment. It’s decorated rather warmly, rich browns and black melding with soft orange. It feels a bit like you’re sitting at the edge of a bonfire, admiring the pretty glow it casts on everything. “Your decoration is really nice.” You say, taking note of the little wooden figures strewn across the living room. A small glass bunny makes you smile.

“Thanks I decorated it myself. I double major in interior design and business.”

“You think you could decorate my apartment? It’s terribly bland because my roommates and I all have different taste in decorating.”

“Sure thing, send me the dimensions and I’ll pick some stuff out. A lot of this is thrifted or from local vintage shops, so it’s not nearly as expensive as it seems.”

“Smart shopping, very sustainable.”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for shopping but a stickler for lessening environmental footprints.” Namjoon says and you laugh, hiding your smile behind the mug he hands you. He even went so far as to add whipped cream at the top with chocolate shavings.

“Thank you. This is the best hot chocolate I’ve had so far.”

“Cool! I got some imported Belgian chocolate and-“

“Joonie I can’t do this anymore.” A third voice sounds before their body even enters the apartment, the front door thrown open carelessly as they flop themselves onto the couch. A jingle plays itself in your head, the bells have a rather bright sound. Namjoon urges you forward and you carry your mug with you just to keep your hands from shaking. “I’ve gone all over the city for nothing and of course when I come home to wallow in pity the bells are mocking me. They’re getting louder with each passing second Namjoon!” They whine, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

“Would you like a hot chocolate?” You ask and they sit up so quickly that you jump back, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto your wrist. “Fuck! That’s so hot.” You whine, your supposed soulmate jumping over the back of the couch and holding your wrist gently in their hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” They say, but you can’t even feel the burn because your nerves are too focused on his touch. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, as he hurries you into the kitchen to run cold water over your wrist. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, murmuring apologies and yet you can only fixate on the mole on his lower lip and the way his dark hair hangs in his eyes, long lashes blinking away stray strands. His nose is strong, a pretty curve making it much too enticing for you to not kiss it at least once. He seems to notice you’re not paying attention because he finally turns to face you head on and it’s only then does he seem to recognize you.

Similarly to last time his eyes are wide, several emotions running through them that you attempt to read: confusion, surprise, relief. He almost sags against you, pulling you into him before you can even think of anything to say. With your nose tucked into his neck, you can feel his small tremors and attempt to suppress them by pulling him in tighter. “I-I didn’t think-“

“I know.” You shush him softly, taking in how warm and solid he is, how real he feels beneath your palms. He smells like fresh linen, and when he finally pulls far away enough that you can look into his eyes you kiss the tip of his nose. His cheeks flush but the hands on your waist tighten. “I’ve looked everywhere for you, you know?”

He scoffs. “I could say the same. Why’d you disappear yesterday? I thought maybe you realized you didn’t..want me.”

“That could and would never be it.” You reassure him, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. “I hate for this to be our first meeting but I was super drunk when we met. I couldn’t really think and my friend thought I was really sick so she took me home before I had the chance to say anything.”

“Jin did say you drank an entire bottle of schnapps. Thanks for that by the way, now I owe him a new bottle.”

“He knew?! Why didn’t he save us the heartbreak and force us together?” You ask and he turns his head towards the small kitchen window.

Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbles, “that might’ve been my fault. I was supposed to be hosting with Joon but decided I didn’t want the mess. By then word already got out so someone had to host. You could say this was my punishment that you unfortunately had to suffer through as well.”

“Next time I’m going to pour his schnapps down the drain instead. Better yet, we’ll buy a bottle, drink it and replace it with thick water!” You huff and he smiles.

“I like the way you think. But what is thick water?”

“I heard it’s the consistency of snot. I guess drinkable jello would be the closest texture.” He scrunches his nose in distaste and you smile. He’s so cute.

“I uhh-I’m Jungkook by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that.”

“Y/n.” He stares at you for a moment before placing both hands on your cheeks and placing a tender kiss to your lips. It’s soft and warm, very much like the man who stands in front of you.

“You’re the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.” He says and despite the cheesy line the sincerity with which he speaks warms you. His hand falls to your own, only when he brushes against your wrist do you hiss and the moment is broken. “Shit, I forgot. Don’t worry baby, I took sports medicine in high school, I’ll fix it up real quick.”

0 hours, 0 minutes, 10 seconds

Jungkook’s arms wrap tightly around your frame, the both of you cuddled into the thickest blanket he could find as you gaze at the city around you. Your wrapped wrist sits carefully against your chest, a heart drawn over the fabric by Jungkook himself. The city lights are so pretty at night, the sky clear enough that if you strain your eyes you can even make out a few stars. The only stars you’re concerned about though are the ones in Jungkook’s eyes, glittering prettily as the sign from the convenience store across the street illuminates them. He takes a sip of Namjoon’s hot chocolate from a thermos before handing it to you, brushing your hair out of your face that’s been displaced by the slight breeze. Despite the fact that you’re both shivering you don’t think you’ve been this warm in a while. It’s part of the reason you insisted to stay out here just a little bit longer even though Jungkook’s warm bed is waiting for you downstairs. You just wanted to be in your own world a little longer, wanting to have an excuse to mold yourself as closely against Jungkook as humanly possible. Clicking his phone the time illuminates, 11:59, staring back at you before flicking to 12:00.

“Merry Christmas Jungkook.” You murmur pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as he smiles.

“Merry Christmas baby.” He says. Your eyes fall back onto his own and he’s looking at you as if you’re his whole world. You know your own mirror the same sentiment and you press closer to connect your lips to his own, writing your future along his tongue.

103 notes · View notes

jae-canikeepyou · 4 years

Text

| muse | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: art student!jaehyun + art student!yn

a/n: thought this on a whim whilst reminiscing my art portfolio, so we’ll see how you’ll like this with yuno in it. not the best i’ve written but hope you enjoy reading 💞😉 ~j

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with jaehyun, there were three things that happened uncontrollably. one was he caused your heart to skip; two, your chest to feel all giddy; and three, your stomach to capsize. why you may ask? it was his very presence in the art academy which had heads turning and lips to whisper words of awe. he was labelled and called a prodigy.

be it in any medium of art, he was blessed to have such a talent that his parents thought it’d be a waste if not enhanced or put attention to. even your professors favored him and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous. despite his princely looks, he could sometimes be a total snob. he’d be in a good mood the first hour and then changed completely in the next. oh the duality, you couldn’t understand him at all.

though question marks continued to fill your head, let’s just say you had a tad advantage compared to girls who were overly thirsting for him; he was your classmate, a major in fine arts. sometimes you unconsciously found yourself sniffing his perfume each time he helped you with the shading of portrait drawings you worked upon. he was that close. as much as you loved seeing him almost every day, you hated at the fact you still didn’t know the ways to calm your loving facial expression towards him.

it was a funny sight —at least to your friends— that they could see how elongated your nose grew every time you deny your feelings for him. yet as time passed the possibility of your admiration might turn into romantic feelings instead. there wasn’t a need to prove to you since your friends have pointed it out already.

but you yourself wasn’t too sure about it.

“please,” hyejin popped with a huge round of an eyeroll at your oblivion. legs crossed as she chewed her bubblegum. “y/n, admit that you like him. it isn’t that hard to say out loud.”

other students, including your studio tutor held in their giggles in the midst of the silence within the room. true enough hyejin was the mood maker.

her words made you stop painting the colours that were meant to accentuate the highlights of the subject. “i’m not like you who’s very expressive in words.” you replied, taking few peeks at your surroundings in case anyone eavesdrop.

hyejin wasn’t supposed to be in the studio today. she was a literature student where writing poetry was her forte. but because your tutor appreciated her effort to promote the visual arts department in the school paper, her going to the studio with you became a normal thing.

“it doesn’t have to be in words. like, i don’t know? paint some canvas and pour out your feelings through colours? yellow’s joy or purple’s dazzling or red is love-” she stopped as you gave her an annoyed gaze. “i’m sure he’ll get it. he’s not called a prodigy for nothing.”

“painting is not done on a whim, hyejin.” you emphasised, not noticing the stress put upon your work. “it takes time and thinking and creativ-”

“yeah yeah,” she made her bubble burst, which by the way irritated you since it gave off the impression that she wasn’t listening to you at all. “abstract seems so random though. no thinking there.”

you pointed the brush at her, yet careful enough that it doesn’t touch her nose. if another word comes from her mouth, you wouldn’t hesitate staining it. “sis, shapes are used instead of virtual reality, so abstract still needs thinking. you just express it differently.” hearing this, hyejin paused for a while before deciding which reaction to give, and with that you were satisfied into silencing her for a while. “now you know how i feel when i don’t understand shakespeare’s ‘love looks not with eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind’.”

she let out a scoff, “pfft, you’re the cupid in that quote. you can’t even see that you like mr. prodigy so much.”

jaehyun gently opened the door and handed a paper slip to the tutor, which apparently was a doctor’s certificate. due to his arrival, hyejin elbowed you so hard that its force caused you to jolt in your seat then knocking two of the glassed jars placed on the narrow deck of your easel.

the tutor looked at your direction, and lowered his specs at the noise. flustered than you ever were in your entire life, you took the dust pan. you tried your best to not match eyes with jaehyun who was now smiling from second hand embarrassment. at farthest decibel your ears could handle, you could hear hyejin sneering with huffed laughs.

“i’m gonna kill you.” you mouthed from a table away and gave her a warning look. you gestured the phrase, followed by a scowl to refer her teasing tongue.

“i’ll help, y/n.” jaehyun offered, but you assured him it was fine. “what’re you working on?” he asked as you both walked back to the tables, he took out his tools and unfinished work.

this time was the season of cramming hours into a tight schedule, there were many initial stages/assignments due and portfolios to be completed. you guessed it was natural for you both to update each other regarding progress. “just giving more highlights and tweaks, then i’ll start on the portraits.”

he only pressed a smile, a breathy chuckle as a response while he focused on his art. “do you still need my help on shading?”

“i think i got the hang of it. thanks.” you damped the brush with water.

“alright, if you need me, i’m just here.”

your eyes shot down to your pockets, quickly answering the phone to quiet down the “supposedly” soundless vibration. and you wished you didn’t fished out the device if you knew that the message was from hyejin.

[18:45] hyejin: damn it y/n, confess already! 🤪

[18:45] you: if you could shut up maybe i will?? i could hear your voice haunting me 🙃

[18:46] hyejin: if there’s no progress today, i’m so gonna take action & tell him myself 😌

[18:47] you: ugh anything but that pls 😣

the thing with being associated with the arts was that time immediately had gone passed when you’re so concentrated. everything else faded away and in that momentum, it was just the art and you. jaehyun felt this once he picked up his brush or pencil. voices in his head whispered and guided him what to do with the creativity still yet to be shown in the world.

among all the students he bonded with, there was one whom perked his interest..

you.

as mentioned, his current surroundings blurred whilst he was sucked into another dimension of concentration. but you went there with him and appeared clear. seemed a scene out of an alternate reality in his perspective, or dramatic to some people. he was intrigued.

since knowing you, he expected to sought this mutual interest deeper. if he was the beautiful, detailed canvas everyone saw in an exhibition, you were the opposite; abstract, unpredictable and rough, someone who was overlooked because others couldn’t understand the depths and entirety of you.

finishing the last layer of the painting, you stretched to sooth the numbness. the professor reminded about the last few minutes before wrapping up the class and, he handed the room keys to you. for this tutorial, students have the choice to stay behind or leave. hyejin left with the others, leaving you alone with jaehyun. whether she did that on purpose, she’d do anything to let you be alone with him.

“oh? you’re done with yours?” jaehyun shifted sideways to take a better view of your work. he looked satisfied with the way his dimples hollowed. “hm. my advise is effective.”

“yeah, you’re a life saver.” you sighed as you looked at how completed the artwork was, then trailing your eyes to him again.

“i’m proud of you.” he winked, only to blush afterwards when his stomach growled. “i wish you didn’t hear that.”

coincidently, you tossed your wallet in the air. “good timing, i’m just about to head out to the cafeteria. want anything? my treat because you helped me.” you extolled with your mood in completely positivity. jaehyun became your inspiration and for now you weren’t able to bring yourself to tell him that.

hopefully soon though— when you have the courage.

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the sleepiness in your eyes only needed ten percent more to push your lids down, the queue was unexpectedly long at this hour. it was only until minutes later had you known that another department organised a party nearby. the wait for the order would be troublesome; that’d be in the fact there were girls right behind, their gaze burning into your skin as if you were an enemy of theirs. and somehow you knew,

they might be jaehyun’s admirers.

they whispered to each other, words audible enough for your hearing and you pretended to be listening to music.

and how you wished you should’ve.

“do you know why jaehyun took fine arts?” one asked.

an intrigued response caught you walking on a tight rope. this can’t be good. “sounds like you know the reason.”

“it’s been spreading around recently..” there was a pause that had you wondering even if you knew you shouldn’t believe in any of rumours from them. “i heard the studio has this session to draw the human body and the figures. like y’know.. no clothes?”

sigh, there wasn’t even any classes for those this semester, you thought.

few giggles were heard before they spoke again. “you’re saying he’s perverted?”

“maybe? i wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.”

“isn’t that kinda hot? his eyes starting into-”

you nearly dropped jaehyun’s food and trip over an extension wire hearing that. breathing slowly and steadily, you convinced yourself that what you heard was false. he wasn’t the type of guy they assumed he was.

as much as you wanted to prove them wrong, it wasn’t your place to speak out when the friendship you have with him was not to the level of best friends. so you rushed back to the studio, not noticing your blown-away hair and burning face. what was amusing after hearing the tea, you didn’t know why you reacted in that manner. did you leave because you couldn’t stand eavesdropping any longer? or did you run due to the fact the fantasies they had were about to enter your mind?

the door was opened with a force that jaehyun looked up from his work, smiling at your quick purchase. “whoa careful there. you didn’t have to run.” he chuckled and went to your table. he took his favourite spicy cake and placed it on top heavily. the force he exerted with his hands was the total opposite to when he dealt with art. somewhere in you, you’d say it was a 0.1 percent a turn-off.

“hey, it’s food. handle with care, it’s a blessing.” you said, munching on your share of the dishes.

jaehyun clasped his palms together, bowed his head and closed his eyes. he faced you and you sat there with a confused look. “thank you y/n, you’re an angel for treating me.”

soon after, you received a message from your professor about taking out some of the tools needed for tomorrow. holding the sandwich wrap between your lips, you took a closer look at the right keys before unlocking the storage room, opening the door afterwards.

it was at least the size of two toilet cubicles, not even close to a room’s walk-in closet. the thin cabinets against both sides of the wall were two feet, and the remaining space in the middle could fit a person’s leg, stretched out. the new set of canvases were placed on the top shelf. for someone like you, it wasn’t possible to reach them on tiptoes. you grabbed a chair and stacked two tins of paint for your feet to stand upon.

if you still couldn’t reach them.. eh, bummer. disturbing jaehyun who was enjoying his meal would be rude. you weren’t that type of person to suddenly feel as if you were already close to someone. the icky and dusty feeling on your fingertips nearly had you gagging.

“jaehyun?” you called out, apparently you’ve given up in trying another attempt. “i need a hand.”

there was a long pause as to why he didn’t respond immediately. maybe you should’ve have disturbed him? but you soon rolled your eyes when a mannequin’s hand was thrown to you. his snickers was supposedly an adorable thing to hear, this kind of wasn’t, because you desperately needed help now. “jeong jaehyun!”

he hummed right after you mentioned his name the second time. “i’m just messing around. but does that mean you’ll treat me again? i helped you.” his voice sounding with excitement.

you nodded, your anger long forgotten but he could tell there was conflict in your head. “i’ll consider it, so help me before i smack you with this plastic hand.” your tone slightly straining since you didn’t feel him entering the room.

“yeah. coming.” he said, giggling at your impatience. as you tried to reach out for the canvases again, the light behind you slowly dimmed.

that was weird. “hey, it’s getting dark in here.” you said.

before he could say anything, the door slowly closed and that made you raise a brow. he noticed this too and looked into your eyes when the light within the room soon disappeared. “ah sorry, i must’ve kicked the door stopper.” even in the dark, you could tell he was flustered from his actions. “i’ll open it.”

however his groans and vigorous sounds from the door knob stated otherwise. “what?” you heard him raise his voice.

“what’s wrong?” you hopped off the tins and grabbed the knob, twisting it clockwise then anti-clockwise. “it’s jammed.”

you both panicked because the night wasn’t getting any younger. there were things to finish and deadlines were drawing closer. before, you thought of procrastinating even when necessary. but procrastinating like this wasn’t part of the plan.

how was it possible for the knob to be jammed? the door wasn’t closed in an impact that would cause its components to be broken. sure jaehyun was reckless and couldn’t control his strength but that really wasn’t the issue here.

the actual issue was that you were going be stuck with him for who knows until when. stuck in a sense there were just enough space for two people. jaehyun fumbled his pockets in search of his phone, an annoyed groan told you it was bad news. “call someone. my battery just died and my powerbank’s outside.”

quickly you fished out your phone, only to find that it had the same fate. “ugh i have 10% left.” you slumped your sides to the shelves like there was no hope. “i’ll try to text hyejin.”

“hm i hope she’s not too far from the campus.” jaehyun leaned against the shelves opposite from you, his expression definitely amused with your reaction. a scoff of disbelief escaped your dry lips, sliding the phone to the shelf as you put your hair on one side. “that doesn’t sound good. what did she say?”

for all the things hyejin could do to help you get out of there, she’d rather sit and tease every single nerve of your body. “she said ‘you both just made your own seven minutes in heaven! i’m laughing out loud right now.’”

and for the things you thought jaehyun would disagree with your friend, he didn’t. it surprised you when his held-in giggles came bursting out from his chest. “it’s exciting. don’t you think?” he chuckled. “this is something you see in movies.”

“okay. tell me, what’s exciting about being locked-”

“we can ask each other questions. or any topic you’d like to talk about. i wanna know more about you.” he suggested, shutting you up because if he didn’t, you’d be quite a complainer. jaehyun bent to a squat, later stretching his legs until the soles reached the sides of your hips. “i rarely get the chance to talk to you properly and i guess this is the day, so scoot over.” he gestured you to move aside a little.

“gee i wonder why?” your voice came out sarcastically. “i don’t ignore people unlike a certain someone.”

“just sit down, will you?” jaehyun seemed to take the fact to heart.

you complied and sat exact the same as he did. the tiled floor sent cool to your legs but it didn’t really matter. jaehyun began by asking how you got into art; what motivated you to choose this field. “it’s just a childhood dream of mine to keep expanding my creativity. i wanna teach kids the joy in paint, that we’re not limited to using tools. i started painting with my hands and fingers when i was five.”

“really? i’m the same, except i was three when i painted.” his dimples deepening.

though you did answer him, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the whole story. you were just par in the arts, an average joe and always felt like your professors tied your wings together to express what you really wanted. every proposal you presented were rejected. if lucky, it still wasn’t good enough. not enough to reach jaehyun’s standards and world.

his shoes hit your hips again, the nudges were light and made you look to him. “your turn.” he said.

your eyes wander the dark room, the thin light from the sides of the door showing the outline of his face. “is it good? being called something you never wanted to be? did you know you’re gifted as a kid?”

“do you want my honest opinion?” he brought one leg to his chest, forearm resting on it as he start to ponder. hearing the soft shuffles from you in agreement, he gulped his dry throat to say the one thing he longed to say.

“i don’t like it.”

beyond speechless. you thought maybe he’d like the feeling of being center of attraction, or praised to have a skill that was out of this world. while you’d like to know what it felt like, it already told you enough that he wouldn’t want to be referred to as a prodigy. “not even a single bit?” alarmed, you squinted your eyes and he shook his head.

“i used to like it at first.. now i don’t,” jaehyun admitted but his face had changed the moment you asked him the one thing he never wanted to look back. “..because i was set apart from kids my age and they view me differently, nor have they ever treated me like every kid in the block.“

he continued how parents would tell him he was ‘inspiring’ or ‘i wish i had a kid like you; dedicated, and talented’. the claim have made him proud, yet this caused insecurity to most of his friends, and they distanced themselves from him. what was once the same ground they stood upon, it had quaked the earth and caused a wide gap. jaehyun hated the feeling of isolation by the will of others. though he had tried many times to reach out to them..

the gap continued to widen.

“there’s not much of a difference now.” he whispered yet audible enough for you to hear. ”i still have less friends. countable with fingers.. on one hand.”

probably the reason why he looked like a snob then.

“i see. so am i?.. part of your ‘friends’?” he heard you ask when reality hits you that you shouldn’t have said your thoughts out loud. closing your eyes for a bit, you heard the shift in his weight, he didn’t answer right away. it was as if he was still finding the words.

but he sat right beside you. “you’re already one when we both entered this classroom. i had a hunch you’ll be one i’ll treasure.”

if anyone was told the way he did just now, it would definitely make them smile. that was his honest opinion and you couldn’t help but smile at his words. he seemed to notice this too and let out a chuckle that was always music to your ears. “should we try to open the door again?” you changed the topic to avoid the awkward smile creeping your face. your hands gripped the knob and jaehyun tugged the hems of your jeans.

“y/n, if you do it further we’ll be damned if hyejin couldn’t open from the outside.” he stood that he was already behind you. “i’m not stopping you from trying though.”

“f-fine.” you leaned against the door, soothing your legs that experienced paresthesia. jaehyun pat your head like he always did whenever you unintentionally embarrass yourself, be it art or not whatsoever. “i just can’t seem to stay still.” oh gosh i don’t know what i’d do if i’m alone with him.

“yeah clearly.” he shrugged.

you had a scowled face and glad he didn’t see it. “the place’s so cramped-” you continued, walking to the chair you once stood on, only to lose balance when the shelves you held for support gave in to collapse from the weight it carried. with weight, the whole furniture wobbled to fall.

in a split second you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, a strong arm wrapping around your frame and saw yourself at the opposing side of the room. jaehyun closed into you as he managed to stop the some items from falling. the entire body of the cabinet covered and trapped you both in a tight place. the furniture tilted right behind him. one small move, the items could injure two and he didn’t want to risk that.

he could feel your breath touch his shirt and with the way you held his clothes, you definitely didn’t see this coming. “are you okay?” he thought there was a possibility of squishing you.

“uncomfortable, but i’ll manage.. somehow.” you honestly replied because there was no point in lying to him.. physically speaking, he’d know what you feel since he himself was also in discomfort. anyway, with your answer, this marked the third silence as there was another one creating yet another gap in the conversation.

okay y/n. you told yourself. you made everything awkward than before. first was you asked whether you were friends, which you already were. second was your stupid and careless behaviour that led to the position you’re both in now.

“what about you?” you asked after seeing the huge frame towering over both of your bodies, mostly onto his. so maybe that was another unnecessary question to ask.

jaehyun gulped and fixed his one of his palms that he gripped on the shelf behind you. you could see his adam’s apple move up and down, struggling to breathe. he pushed backwards to be able to see your face. tilting his head down, that movement alone made you look up. “uncomfortable, but i’ll somehow manage.” he smiled even though you knew he wasn’t.

“you know you’ll earn zero marks if you copy my answer.” you giggled, remembering the professor’s words at the beginning of the semester.

he flicked your forehead as he agreed with the obvious statement. “i heard him. anyway, it’s my turn to ask.”

“are we really playing the game now? can we at least try to figure how to get out of this position?” you began to whine and threw your head back where you hit your head, and you didn’t care how shameful you felt. you knew you wouldn’t stand any longer, your legs started to weaken because of stress— stress from everything jaehyun managed to make you feel, that included the little smiles and especially his hand around your waist.

jaehyun didn’t know why he put his palms behind your head before the incident happened but he knew he had to, with the way you flustered so much. he figured that you weren’t used to situations like these.

however a memory slipped into his mind that you were always your usual self with other guys around. he noticed how you held or hiccuped a breath whenever you both conversed. you and him weren’t particularly close to begin with, just enough to pass as friends and maybe it was his love for art that brought that gap closer to you.

right now? perhaps too close. literally.

“why not? it gets more fun.” he tried to hide the smile creeping his lips; at the sight of how irritated you were beneath him and he actually considered your plead to get you both to safety. but maybe he’d like to enjoy a little bit before doing so. “besides, there’s no way we can move properly with a lot of things blocking our surroundings.”

on both sides, the two of you were encased with large items and materials that were affected by the impact. “tsk.” you tilted your head to avoid looking at him. “at least try to push the huge cabinet?”

he did as he was told and from the grunts and exhausted voice, jaehyun gave up trying. “i don’t think i can. something’s probably caught in the gap between the wall and the furniture.” he tried to look over his shoulder to see if he was right.

“i thought prodigies don’t give up.” your voice sounded challenging to him.

“within the spectrum of our skill, we don’t. but outside our gift, we have the choice to.” jaehyun flicked your forehead again. “we get tired too.”

there was less force against your torso, he was trying to push the furniture again and you bubbled out a giggle. “wow you aren’t as cool as i thought you were.”

jaehyun wanted to hit you as you were being too playful at the wrong time. but as he brought his hand up, you closed your eyes shut to brace for the sharp impact. he sighed and his stomach growled in the most embarrassing way yet. “ugh, it’s because i haven’t eaten enough. i don’t have any strength left.” his stomach then growled louder.

maybe it was due to your bodies against each other’s and the heat starting to roam around the room. jaehyun clicked his tongue at the continuous mimicking of yours. “c’mon y/n i can’t be the only one doing the work here. help me push this heavy thing behind me.”

“uh no? do you think i could even help? don’t make me uncomfortable than i’m already am.” you moaned at the pain starting to grow along your spine. arching your back to avoid the discomfort from the shelves wasn’t really a good idea.

“ah you’re uncomfortable?” he implored with a smirk, his voice quite menacing as he leaned in to squeeze you between the cabinet behind you and himself.

for the whole time jaehyun knew that you didn’t mean whatever you said. he loved how you surprise him everyday and tonight he found you quite cheeky, and adorable too. by quite, it meant that you were like a child wanting to go home. a huff from him felt like the gust of wind. “‘i don’t have any strength left’.” you copied his words. seeing his lips pout, it was alright to give in. “will you treat me food if i help?” you returned the question because you treated him.

“you’re lucky you’re cute.” he suddenly said, with a soft chuckle, you knew he was smiling. it had gotten you speechless that it was hard to tell whether he said knowingly or not. “we can buy what the other wants after we get out of here, okay?” his attempt to get the wood off him yet again failed.

you clapped your hands quite hyperactively and squealed as if he asked you out on a date. “oh yay! okay. i wouldn’t want to be rained on for another hour anyway.” you teased, in which he exhaled heavily from his nostrils.

“i’m not that sweaty.” he grumbled, almost vibrating with the exertion of his energy.

“just perspiring.” you added.

he hit your head with his, for sure you’ll have a prominent bruise and that would make you a victim for hyejin for the next few days. or tonight, if she would get you both out. “that’s the same meaning.”

it took less than two minutes to take the weight off his back. jaehyun saw everything in slow motion— he was falling backwards and you, frontwards. “whoa!” for a moment you thought you hit yourself on a wall. that was for a brief second before the impact was replaced by a warm hug.

you checked if he was okay, he became your safe fall and again he saved you when you didn’t ask for it. “i didn’t expect.. i’m sorry.” you pressed your lips realising you were in between his legs.

he hissed at the pain and sat tiredly on the floor, using all of the fabrics of his clothes to wipe the sweat. “it’s okay.” he patted your back.

“right.. this is awkward. i better get off..” you chuckled and dusted your clothes awkwardly but what he said next really caught you off guard.

“do you want to do it?” he queried, taking you back as your head shot up and hit his chin with your forehead.

you blinked several times. “d-do what?” is this another question i won’t be able to answer?

there was a shaky grip on your waist, your heart hammered and you were afraid that he would hear it. “y’know what i’m talking about.” he put the hair strands away so he would be able to see your face under the lines of slim light.

“i don’t?” you choked on your own saliva. what was he talking about?

jaehyun’s breath made you freeze on the spot, along sudden silence. he giggled softly. “such a waste, you even have a perfect body.”

then the conversation from the two girls at the cafeteria entered your mind right when you thought deep. hold on, the rumours can’t be true..

he stood up shortly, cornering you by the door and the lights revealed his eyes, smiling shyly. “you have perfect proportions.” as of now, you were a little nervous. you couldn’t process what you were hearing from your crush’s lips and looked away where you could see hyejin’s figure closing the studio’s door.

finally hyejin’s here. i have to tell him. “uh jaehyu-”

“can you be my model?” he held your hands.

oh shoot it is true?

“i need someone to pose for my next art portrait and you’re the only one i can ask.”

‘well aren’t you quite the deep thinker~’ you could imagine hyejin’s voice telling you off at the back of your mind. you shook your head and shut your eyes for her imaginary presence to go away, making you miss seeing jaehyun’s expression turn to a small pout.

suddenly you felt like your soul left your body. what were you thinking y/n?! erase the thought! cleanse your mind from what you heard from the girls!

now you stopped being an embarrassment, you looked at him. however, before you could answer, the door swung open, causing you both to fall over and adjust to the lights above you. hyejin looked down at the two of you, her bubblegum popping with brows raised. “girl, i texted you back and said i’m opening the door. didn’t you see- oh, did i come at the wrong time?”

jaehyun quickly got on his toes, ears turning red while you covered your face in embarrassment. “this is a misunderstanding hyejin!” he stuttered and fixed his collar. you dug for your phone to check the message, but it died long before.

she blew another bubble and popped. “mhm, i can see that.” she winked at the both of you and turned to leave.

“hyejin!” you whined and clung on her legs.

“i’m leaving!” she singsonged and shook her ankles like you were a bug. “i’m giving you more alone time with your muse!”

“oh my g- you!” you chased her down. “quiet!”

she laughed cheekily and managed to exit the studio, sticking out her tongue and pointed behind you. ‘walk home with him!’ hyejin mouthed, and you couldn’t be more annoyed with her because that was indeed true. what was once a wishful thinking became reality. she knew you more than you did yourself.

as you sighed heavily, it got you hitching a breath that jaehyun might’ve heard and saw the whole thing. you turned around and he was packing his stuff, yours included. the artworks were left untouched since you both would be back here tomorrow. he gave your bag and you chose to not talk because you didn’t have the audacity to do. “so, uh. what were you saying earlier?” you hoped he would forget what he just saw.

“oh y-yeah. lemme just-” he took a deep breath and looked into your eyes. “..rephrase it- wait i’m your muse?”

of course he wouldn’t forget, it just happened. damn you, hyejin! you slouched on a nearby chair and wore your hood. “i was hoping you wouldn’t find out so soon.”

“i’m flattered. thanks.” his dimples hollowed. “i was asking if you could be my reference for my next art piece..” he trailed off recalling that you declined. “..though you shook your head quickly than i thought.”

“huh i did?” your voice affirming. “oh gosh i think i did.. i’m sorry i was hearing hyejin in my head when you said that.”

jaehyun’s eyes widened when all he heard was pure honesty from you. “so will you do it for me?”

“as long as i wear clothes while at it.” you consented with your arms crossed and began to feel heat spread your whole body at the thought of the rumour.

walking along the hallway, only the sounds of shoes grazing the carpet echoed the area. you didn’t know what else to say. he brought you to the nearest convenient store where the campus’ one was closed at the hour. the food you bought turned cold and you couldn’t afford to get sick because of it.

he pulled the chair for you to sit on. “you heard them as well.” he placed his bag down. he was aware of the rumours found around and was shocked to know you knew them too. “they’re not true.”

you propped your chin as he went back to the topic. “i know.” you agreed to his words. “they don’t describe you at all.”

jaehyun sat comfortably, a smirk appearing. “me being your muse fits the description-”

this guy.. “please don’t bring that up.” you pleaded with hands clasped.

“i’m teasing.” he chuckled. “i don’t mind if you refuse want to be my model.” he said. “but i assure i’m not like other artists who paints their naked model. i have a better plan for you.”

he was trying to convince you into his world and you were slowly getting into it. “that’s like saying you really want me to.” you took your wallet and he followed suit.

“what’s wrong with wanting to paint my new muse?” he slid his chair closer to the table; closer so he could see your reactions to his honesty.

when he said that, you never turned away so fast in your life. your chest never thumped so loudly and your eyes fluttered while he continued to press onto his question.

an assuring smile showed on your lips and he mirrored it, already knowing your response. “nope, nothing wrong at all.” you shyly accepted his request.

jaehyun then stood to get the orders, his fingers warning you that the late dinner would be on him. your heart experienced blossoms and giddiness you hoped it’d stay forever. who knows? maybe being each other’s muse could turn into something more after tonight.

#nct 127 #jaehyun oneshot #jung jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun writings #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun #nct #jaehyun nct #jaehyun x reader

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puppywritings · 3 years

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sometimes they come back - qian kun (ft. huang renjun, dong sicheng, wong yukhei & johnny suh)

⇢ synopsis: kun was distraught when he lost his brother sicheng at a very young age. sixteen years later, he’s moved on from his trauma and made a living as a high school literature teacher. however, with the entrance of a troubled young student, along comes reminders of his brother’s gruesome end and somehow, kun feels a daunting link.

⇢ word count: 9.3k ⇢ trigger warnings: swearing, nightmares, trauma, mental illness, death of a family member, demons, blood, murder, one instance of semi-graphic gore.

⇢ a/n: so this is the longest thing i’ve ever written and i worked pretty damn hard on it. quick disclaimer that although i made renjun very evil i still love him ❤️ (and evil renjun is kinda sexy but u didn’t hear that from me) anyways this story definitely fits in the horror genre and may be disturbing for younger readers!! based on stephen king’s short story sometimes they come back but deviates from the actual plot. see the trigger warnings above and proceed with caution.

⇢ part of @takitaro and @starryqian‘s stephen king collab! thank u for allowing me to be part of such a fun project:)

⇢ taglist: @badwithten @sandaigdigan-reads

masterlist

Sunday.

The clock read 03:26 when Qian Kun woke up from his nightmare, panting and covered in sweat. Long ago, this was a familiar occurrence. Long ago, it was strange if he didn’t wake up like this. But, long ago, this all ended. It had been fourteen years since the nightmares stopped - so why were they happening again now?

Shaking, Kun got out of bed and trudged downstairs to the kitchen in the house where he lived alone, and had done for many years now. He flicked the switch to boil the kettle; there was no way he was getting back to sleep any time soon. His toes tapped anxiously on the tile floor while he sat at the table, picking at a hangnail on his left thumb. Why now, all this time after he had recovered, was he being forced to relive his brother’s murder as he slept?

The kettle boiled with a click, and Kun jumped. He huffed, hand on his chest, and went to prepare his drink. Coffee, black. He couldn’t take anything light or sugary, not that night. The sharpness of his beverage bit at him, and it was what he needed - a sensory distraction from the images currently filling his mind. His brother Sicheng, just thirteen years old; the light leaving his eyes as he went limp in Kun’s arms; the blood flooding out of his stab wound, bathing them both in crimson; the greaser gang dispersing, leaving Kun alone to yell, bawl, and beg. Kun shuddered, swallowing back nausea. God, he wanted to forget. But he knew he never could.

(Timeskip - 16 years earlier)

The weather had been fair on the afternoon that Kun lost his brother; the sky was blue, cloudless, and the air was practically alive with all the opportunities for young boys to find fun. The afternoon had begun much like any other. The young Kun and Sicheng, revolting against the idea of spending any time inside while the sun was shining, had set off towards their favourite diner, just a few blocks away. Kun remembered every detail exactly - he had relived the event every time he fell asleep for years afterwards - his brother’s bright blue t-shirt, the freckles scattering his cheeks, the frayed laces in his favourite sneakers. Sicheng was still small at thirteen years old, not yet having hit that growth spurt he was waiting for. In their neighbourhood, plagued with crime, bullies, and greaser gangs, Sicheng’s size put him at a disadvantage. Kun, though not huge himself, always felt protective over his younger brother, and had gotten into many a fistfight in his defence. That fated day felt perfectly normal, up until the moment they turned onto the diner’s street.

Fourteen-year-old Kun sighed. Swarmed around the entrance of their beloved diner was a group of greasers, complete with coal-black leather jackets and huge, hulking motorcycles.

“Come on, let’s go,” Sicheng said, hands tucked in his pockets. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“No,” Kun said abruptly, and Sicheng looked at him in surprise. “I’m sick of living my life in fear of these idiots. They don’t own the diner - we can just walk right past them and go inside. They can’t stop us.”

“Are you sure? What about little Shotaro?”

This made Kun pause. Everybody knew the story about little Shotaro. In the next town over, a boy a few years younger than them had been beaten to a pulp, almost killed, over a ridiculous turf war that he hadn’t even been involved in. Kun clenched his jaw, angry at the injustice, thoughts of the incident only spurring him on. He had more confidence that day than perhaps ever before.

“They won’t touch us.” Kun truly believed this. The group in question, a few years older than the brothers, had never caused them harm before. The most they had done before was chase them, and once spat on them, which had been an awful humiliation indeed, but Kun didn’t think they’d be bold enough to hurt them - it was all an act, a front to look tough. “Let's go,” Kun said with an edge of determination, and Sicheng followed him closely down the street.

As predicted, the greasers weren’t happy when Kun and Sicheng approached them - far from it. A boy, around seventeen or so, eyeballed the boys as soon as they got close. He scoffed when he saw that they weren’t stopping. “Yo,” he barked. “Diner’s ours today. Turn around.”

Kun puffed out his chest despite his nerves. “No.”

The greaser laughed incredulously, elbowing his buddy in the side as if sharing some ridiculous joke. He turned to Kun and Sicheng, looking down at them as though they were ants on the sidewalk. “Hold up. The fuck did you just say?”

“I said no,” Kun held his ground, fists clenched to keep them from trembling. Kun bravely chanced a look up at the greaser and was unable to read his expression. It was somewhere between disbelieving surprise and rage; his eyebrows were pulled tightly downwards, and his mouth was agape, showing a snaggletooth.

Kun felt Sicheng tug on the back of his shirt, holding onto his brother to ease his anxiety. He spoke up, following his older brother's lead. "We only want to get some milkshakes," he spoke with a tremor to his words. "Let us in."

There were sniggers and sneers from the group of greasers. "No means no, kid. Get lost," the ringleader spoke, leaning in close to Sicheng where he stood huddled behind Kun. "Before I make you wish you were never born. You don’t wanna fuck with me today."

Kun scoffed. "You wouldn't hurt us."

The ringleader raised a skeptical eyebrow at Kun, before stepping back, rolling up the sleeves of his leather jacket. "Grab him, boys."

Before Kun had the time to process the instruction, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He pulled, trying to break free, but it was to no avail. With the older boys being bigger and stronger, Kun's struggles were useless. Terror flooded his system; he had been wrong. The greasers weren't afraid to hurt him. They hadn't even hesitated. He had gravely misjudged their threat levels. As Kun grappled with the older boys, Sicheng watched. As if in slow-motion, Kun saw a fist, tightly curled, thrusting towards him, marked with a dark birthmark.

He heard the crack in his jaw before he felt the blinding pain. The pain was white-hot; it spread throughout his face, scalding his bones and making him groan. The greaser hit him again, and again, busting his nose. Kun felt dizzy with the pain, and his vision blurred.

"Let him go!" Kun heard Sicheng stick up for him as he went limp in the greasers' iron hold. "Let him go, you… y-you…"

The greaser laughed. "Spit it out, kid."

"You bitch!" Sicheng managed, almost panting with the effort.

Kun looked up to see the greaser gaping - Sicheng had managed to genuinely shock him. There was a fire in his eyes that Kun noticed despite his hazy vision. Still detained, Kun watched as the greaser reached into his leather jacket. He saw a silver flash, and naively wondered why he would wield a comb in such a threatening way.

It wasn’t until Sicheng was on his knees, crouched over and clutching his abdomen, that Kun realised it hadn’t been a comb.

“Jesus Christ,” gasped the greaser holding Kun back. He stepped back, releasing Kun, who fell onto his hands and knees.

“S-Sicheng,” Kun gasped, unable to breathe. Sicheng’s blood poured onto the pavement, and Kun felt it on his hands, warm, as he crawled towards his brother. Distantly, Kun noticed the crowd of greasers disperse, fast, but all he could focus on was Sicheng.

“Ambulance-” Kun choked out, unsure who he was calling to. “Somebody get an ambulance!”

Kun caught his brother as he collapsed, wheezing. “Sicheng, no- I- you can’t-”

Sicheng’s eyelids were heavy and they struggled to remain open. Kun knew it was too late - there was too much blood on the ground, on Kun. Sicheng went limp in his arms, his eyes went glassy. Kun screamed.

Kun suffered from a dark and heavy grief after losing Sicheng. The world seemed bleak and pointless for some time. He couldn’t understand why he was being made to live in this world, a world without his brother and best friend. What cruel hands of fate would ever take away such a young, innocent life? Plagued by nightmares, Kun trudged through the next few years.

However, as is inevitable when it comes to the resilient nature of mankind, Kun managed to move on. He went to therapy, vanquished his demons, and held Sicheng close to his heart. He stepped out of the shadow that grief had cast upon him, and vowed to live a better life than the one Sicheng had, the one that was cut far too short. He worked hard, went to a good college, and moved out of the area that was haunted by nightmares of gangs and crime.

Sixteen years after losing his brother, Kun had made quite a life for himself. He taught literature to wealthy children at a prestigious private school. The school was nothing like the one he and Sicheng had attended in their youth. Kun taught the children of politicians, CEO’s, people with money. The students Kun taught were free of leather jackets and motorcycles, and their pockets had never seen switchblade knives. They thrived in an environment that nurtured its students, looked after them and educated them. Kun lived a calm life, a stable life. He went to work each day and there wasn’t a steel-toed boot or studded leather glove in sight. He was in peace -

Monday.

Until that week. Kun rubbed his eyes as he yawned, stretching his legs, stiff from sitting at his kitchen table for such a long time. Not a single nightmare about his brother’s death for fourteen years, and now, out of the blue… Kun had dreamed of Sicheng’s death every night for a week. It was as puzzling as it was concerning. Kun blinked tiredly, looking up at the clock on the wall of his kitchen. He jumped - he had been sitting there all night. He stood, going to his window and pulling back the curtains. It was true; morning light illuminated the dew drops on his lawn, which was littered with small birds twittering away to each other. He put on another pot of coffee; it was only an hour until he had to leave for work.

Kun had had the week from hell. Each dream had been different; in some, Sicheng roared at Kun, blood gurgling from his mouth as he cursed his brother for failing to save him; in others, Kun was stabbed alongside his brother. Some dreams were a perfect replica of the actual events. One thing remained unchanged, though. Kun never saw the face of the attacker. He knew it was just a matter of his brain blocking out details to protect him, but it frustrated him at times. Kun could never hunt the man down, not even if he wanted to. He could walk past the man on the street and be none the wiser.

His house had begun to feel like a prison; he had spent each night either waking in a cold sweat, or sipping coffee at his kitchen table when the threat of nightmares was too daunting for him to even lie down. And he had spent his days recuperating. A dreadful headache had been afflicting him, and he had taken the whole week off work. Now, however, he knew he had to return. Though still exhausted, and with a dull pounding tormenting his head, Kun was very aware of how easy it was to slip back into a depressive slump. He believed that the normalcy of his work environment would soothe him, and that the darkness that had built up in his home could be shed by a nice, regular day at work.

Or so he thought.

Kun felt uneasy throughout his day at the school; there was a darkness hanging in the air, albeit a darkness only himself picked up on. He coasted through the day, serving mediocre lessons and dodging his students’ questions of, “Where have you been, Mr Qian?” and “Were you sick, Mr Qian?”

Something was off. There were dark clouds that lingered at the edges of his vision, always staying in his peripheral, never quite coming into view. There were cold spots that sent chills down his spine, and whispers that were too distant to decipher. Kun tried to brush off his paranoia as a lingering side effect of the built-up sleep deprivation he was facing, but he simply couldn’t deny the fact that something just felt wrong.

All too soon, the school day ended. Students filtered out of the building, and Kun was alone with his thoughts yet again. Resting his forehead on the cool wooden surface of his desk, he allowed himself a very self-indulgent groan, an attempt to release his frustration and restlessness. It didn’t work - not that he actually thought it would. Kun knew that he could use the excuse of catching up on work to remain in his classroom for a good few hours. However there was a limited amount of work he could stay behind to carry out, and he would have to return home soon enough, back to the darkness and the nightmares.

Kun stood, stretching his aching muscles, and idly looked out of his classroom window. Winter was approaching - though only just past four in the afternoon, a grey gloom was already beginning to fall as the sky darkened. He would go home now, he decided. At least there he could set the fire going, change into a warm sweater, and make himself dinner as he worked. Kun donned his favourite brown coat, picked up his worn briefcase, and departed his classroom.

“Mr Qian.” Kun stopped on the way to his car when he heard his name. His head whipped around at lightning speed; one could say he was a little on-edge.

“Principal Suh, hello,” Kun greeted his boss.

“You’re feeling better, I hope?” the principal spoke as he caught up with Kun, who faked a smile and nodded. “Great. I was hoping to catch you tomorrow morning but since I’ve got you now; there’s a transfer student, he’ll be in your first-period class tomorrow. I only feel the need to warn you because…” the principal paused, taking a measured sigh, as if trying to find the best words to use. “Well, he’s a bit of a problem child, it seems.”

Kun nodded and smiled at all the correct intervals, clenching a fist inside his pocket to cope with the frustration of how badly he wanted to get home.

“Nothing we can’t handle,” the principal continued, “Nothing we haven’t seen before. Rich kid lashing out to get daddy’s attention.” Kun gave a cynical laugh. “Huang Renjun. I’ll give you his file tomorrow morning.”

Huang Renjun.

Kun recognised that name from somewhere. He began to think back, but was pulled sharply from his thoughts by a searing pain in his jaw. It was deeply reminiscent of the injury he suffered from all those years ago, during his brother’s accident; the dislocated jaw he sustained when the wretched greaser had hit him.

“Right,” Kun commented distractedly, plastering that fake smile upon his face once again. “See you tomorrow, Principal Suh.” The man smiled, giving Kun a hearty pat on the back before departing.

Kun hurried to his car. The pain in his jaw was worrying, and it only became more intense with each passing moment. He couldn’t think what could’ve brought this on - surely not repercussions from his previous injury, which had healed fine and hadn’t shown a single problem in sixteen years. He drove home, the ache hanging over him like a thick fog. Once there, Kun fell into his bed, passing out just as the pain became paralysing.

Tuesday, 6:03am

Kun awoke the next morning, feeling as though he hadn’t slept a wink, despite the thirteen hours he had under his belt. Groggily, he brought a hand up to his jaw, rubbing it tentatively. No more pain. That was relieving. Still, even with the lack of pain, he wouldn’t consider the morning particularly pleasant thus far.

Kun had dreamed again that night. Another nightmare replaying Sicheng’s death. This dream, however, had been different from any other before. The faceless entity who stabbed his brother had a name. The name was never spoken, never outright stated, but Kun knew it to be true; his name was Huang Renjun.

Kun sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. He had a bad feeling. Come on, Kun, be rational, he willed himself. This was just his brain feeding the day’s information into his dream. Obviously there was no link between Kun’s new student and the bastard who killed his brother sixteen years ago - obviously. The logical part of Kun’s brain believed this completely. But he had a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong. He couldn’t shake the feeling, and it laid heavy in his stomach like a stone. He couldn’t shake it as he made breakfast, and he couldn’t shake it as he washed his face and dressed for work. It overpowered even the pounding in his head, which was rather powerful itself.

Kun knocked back some painkillers; he couldn’t take another day off, as he had used up all his paid sick days until the end of the semester. Even if he did have another sick day available, Kun didn’t think he would take it. He had a real feeling of dread, entirely surrounding Huang Renjun, transfer student and alleged problem child, guest and visitor to Kun’s nightmares. Call it morbid curiosity, but Kun had to meet the boy. He wondered if these feelings would go away once he met the student. Kun imagined it, all dread and darkness dissipating when he saw that Huang Renjun was just a regular teenage boy, albeit a little troubled.

Maybe it was just the pessimistic devil on his shoulder, but he doubted it. Everything lined up just a little too nicely for his liking - the return of his nightmares, the unshakable feelings of both dread and paranoia, the ache in his jaw, and the entrance of this child. God, Kun felt like a madman, but it truly felt linked to him.

A while later, Kun was still pondering these things as he paced up and down the staff room, clutching his coffee mug a little too tightly.

“Morning, Kun.”

The greeting was innocuous, harmless. But Kun, like a skittish horse, jumped out of his skin and allowed his mug to fall to the ground, shattering. Kun sighed.

“Woah, sorry,” Yukhei apologised, surprised and worried. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

“It’s okay,” Kun waved it off with a shaky smile. “Way too much caffeine in my system.”

Yukhei, gym teacher and Kun’s friend, silently helped him clean up the mess. Kun was thankful, and displayed his appreciation with another smile that he hoped seemed genuine.

Kun looked up, after sweeping up some smaller shards, to find Yukhei looking at him inquisitively. “Are you doing okay?” the taller man asked.

“I- Yeah. Yeah, I’m doing fine.” Even to his own ears, Kun didn’t put on a very convincing show.

“Burnout is a real thing, bro. You gotta take care of yourself.”

Kun’s heart raced a little, at the receival of some genuine human concern. He hadn't realised the effect it had had upon him, isolating himself for that week-long period. Kun nodded, trying hard not to tear up. “Thanks, Yukhei.”

“I think Principal Suh was looking for you, by the way,” Yukhei mentioned offhandedly.

The kid’s file - Kun had completely forgotten. In a display of perfect timing, the bell sounded, signalling the beginning of first period.

“Shit,” muttered Kun.

Yukhei gave Kun a supportive pat on the back. “We should have a catch up soon, man. You know where I am if you need anything.”

With that, Yukhei was gone, presumably to teach a class, and Kun followed after him, out into the crowds of tired, blathering teenagers. He supposed he’d just have to read the file whenever Principal Suh was free to contact him.

Kun’s classroom was full by the time he reached it - had he really taken that long? he wondered distantly. His students were a little rowdy despite the early hour, seizing the lack of supervision and taking full advantage of it, chatting to each other noisily. They hadn’t noted his arrival yet, so Kun took the opportunity to stand in the doorway for a moment, unseen and undetected. He glanced around the room, and his eyes fell upon his new student easily.

Huang Renjun. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Where his classmates dressed appropriately in the uniformed navy blazers, Renjun wore a very prominent black leather jacket. Kun swallowed nervously. The boy was facing away from Kun, speaking to his peers, but he knew it was him. Taking a shaky breath, Kun stepped into his classroom, pushing through the panic brought on by one of his triggers. The leather jacket, far too reminiscent of his youth and the traumas he endured there, had had a profound effect on him, but he had the necessary coping mechanisms to deal with it. He inhaled deeply, paused, and exhaled.

Kun cleared his throat as he entered the room, and the chatter quietened. “Excuse me,” he spoke, his voice clear and bold, pointedly avoiding looking at the boy. “I know you’re new here, but you can’t wear that in class.” Still keeping his gaze away from the student, Kun removed his coat and pressed the power button to boot up his computer.

Huang Renjun remained silent, although another student, Haeun, spoke up. “What are you talking about, Mr Qian? He’s wearing the uniform.”

Kun blinked, finally taking another look at Renjun. The boy had turned around and was, in fact, complying entirely with the uniform code. Blazer included. No leather jacket to be seen. A few students snickered at Kun’s mistake. Luckily, he knew he wouldn’t get mocked too much; most of his students respected him highly. He was well-liked, generally. They would let this mistake pass.

Renjun wasn’t looking at Kun. His gaze was pointed straight down towards his desk, face hidden behind long bangs.

“Oh. Right. I apologise, it must’ve been a trick of the light.” Kun gave a sincere apology. Though he was paranoid, exhausted, filled with dread, he wasn’t going to forego his manners.

“No worries, sir,” Renjun forgave him easily. He sounded like a regular teenager, Kun thought, although he wasn’t sure what else he expected. The student looked up at Kun, using his hand to flick his hair out of his face. Kun noted the mark on his hand, the dark birthmark. He began to feel dizzy; he knew that mark.

Out of nowhere, Kun felt that pain again - that white-hot, blinding bite in his jaw. It reached out its burning tendrils, spreading all throughout his face. Kun stepped back, staggering almost, as he cupped his jaw apprehensively. Kun was still looking at Renjun, who moved his stare, looking directly into Kun’s eyes.

Renjun’s eyes were black. No whites, no iris. Pure, solid black.

Though Kun didn't think it was possible, the pain intensified. Grey spots danced across the classroom as his vision went spotty, fizzling like static on a television. Kun swayed, reaching out to grab the edge of his desk for support but missing it entirely, catching thin air instead. Heavy as a stone, Kun fell to the ground, passing out.

The last thing he saw was Huang Renjun glaring at him, a malicious smile on his face.

Tuesday, 9:53am

Kun's eyes snapped open. The fluorescent lights above his head were harsh, and he winced, blinking. He was lying down; where was he?

"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling, Mr Qian?" The school nurse, Joohyun. Right. He had passed out in class.

Kun sat up abruptly. Huang Renjun - that piercing gaze, the menacing grin.

Nurse Joohyun spoke to him again. "You passed out during first period. Do you remember that, Mr Qian?"

"Yes," Kun confirmed, rubbing his jaw and reminiscing of the pain prior to his fainting spell. It was now entirely painless. "Migraine," Kun materialised his excuse on the spot, "They've been bothering me lately."

"Ah," Joohyun nodded in sympathetic understanding, talking as she prepared Kun a cup of water and passed it to him. "Nasty things. You should go home and rest for the remainder of the day. Will you be able to drive yourself home?"

"Yes, thank you." Kun didn't realise how thirsty he was until the water passed his lips. He drank it gratefully.

Nurse Joohyun departed, leaving Kun in the quiet once again. He finished his water and left the school with haste. Once in his car, he allowed himself to fall apart a little, unseen. When he threw his head into his hands, he found that he was shaking, trembling. Was this it? Was he going insane?

No. Kun’s mind was sharp. He knew it was still intact. He always had been a logical man, and so he remained. He only believed in what he saw, what he knew to be the complete truth. And even now, when the very truths of reality had become so dark and twisted, he knew that what his mind believed was the absolute truth.

He kept his eyes trained directly on the road, focused straight ahead as he thought. He had to be rational here. In completely untenable circumstances, Kun had to remain tenable. In this utterly illogical situation, Kun had to think logically.

He laid the facts out in front of him: sixteen years ago, his brother was stabbed. He suffered from terrible grief. He went to therapy, grew up, the nightmares went away. He worked hard, got a good job, and moved on. Everything was okay. Right?

Then the nightmares returned. A new student arrived at his school, Huang Renjun. He started getting splitting pains in his jaw, right where that bastard punched him before murdering his brother. The student featured in his nightmares. He had the same birthmark as that killer. Kun made eye contact with Renjun and passed out. And the student had looked at him with that expression, that malicious smile. A look of pure evil.

And so, illigocial, irrational, implausible, untenable as it was, Kun knew it to be true. Sixteen years ago, Huang Renjun murdered Sicheng. And now, sixteen years later, Huang Renjun was a student in Kun’s class, not having aged a day.

Kun was home before he knew it. He went inside, but didn’t rest. He didn’t sleep, didn’t close his eyes for longer than a blink until the next morning.

Wednesday.

Kun felt unsafe in the school. He was angry; how dare this entity make him feel so uncomfortable in his own place of work? He felt the lingering darkness, even when he was surrounded by students and faculty. It smothered him like a blanket of smoke, impossibly heavy and making him choke.

Kun wasn’t teaching Huang Renjun’s class that day. Yet he was still terrified. Paranoia tinged his vision, altered his very perception of reality; every student that entered his classroom was Renjun, until he blinked and they weren’t. Every sudden movement was a punch flying towards his jaw, until he shook himself and there was no threat. He was completely on edge all day.

While Kun was exhausted, he was also overwhelmed with the energies of a thousand different emotions. He was terrified, paranoid, furious, devastated. He couldn’t believe that he was back here, replaying Sicheng’s death in his mind over and over. This piece of shit, this monster - he was here solely to fuck with Kun. And the worst part of it was that he was succeeding. Kun felt defiant. He couldn’t let this thing ruin him. Not for a second time.

Kun looked around. The sun was shining brightly, but he didn’t feel its warm rays. He stepped on a piece of bright pink bubblegum, flattened on the pavement, but his shoes didn’t stick. He looked up; thirteen-year-old Sicheng was looking back at him.

Oh, fuck. Not again.

Kun wished he could grab his younger brother by the arm and march him back home, stopping the imminent events before they even happened. But the picture was already in motion. Before Kun knew it, he and Sicheng were stood before the greaser gang.

“Diner’s ours today. Turn around,” barked the ringleader, Huang Renjun.

Wait, Huang Renjun?

Surely enough, the boy from Kun’s class was in front of him, in all his greaser glory - leather jacket donned, hair slicked back, snaggletooth displayed in a mean snarl. Slowly, the other greasers melted away, ceasing to exist in this dreamland. Even Sicheng evaporated. Only Kun and Renjun remained.

“What the fuck do you want with me?” Kun asked, his voice dripping with equal parts anger and desperation.

Renjun shrugged, smiling smugly. He looked as though he were playing his favourite game. “You’re fun to mess with, Kun.”

“Fuck off,” Kun bit back. “Haven’t you messed with me enough?”

Renjun laughed. And laughed, and laughed. The hideous melody went on for far too long, and Kun winced at the sound. “I’ve barely even begun messing with you, Kun! Wait and see, how depraved you’ll get. People do funny things when you push them far enough.”

Renjun stepped closer to Kun. Somehow, the child towered above him. “And I- Can’t- Wait-” each word was punctuated by a tap on Kun’s nose, “To see what you’ll do.”

Kun tried to slap his hand away, but missed. “You’re sick,” he spat, “You’re a monster.”

“Well, duh,” Renjun scoffed. “You’re just stating the obvious here, Kunny.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Kun hissed, stumbling backwards. He turned, running down streets that were so familiar yet so distant to him.

“You can run,” Renjun’s voice followed him, “But you’ll never escape.”

Kun woke with a start, panting in his bed. His usual calming mantra of “It’s just a dream,” did nothing that night. Kun knew that it was far more than a petty nightmare. This was real - all too real.

Thursday, 11:12am

Kun had Renjun’s class again that day, and he was determined not to let the child hurt him. He had it figured out, or so he thought; don’t look the kid in the eyes, don’t speak to him, don’t even acknowledge his presence. And then Kun would be safe. This was all a game to Renjun, and Kun would not be playing. He simply would not engage.

The class began relatively smoothly. Though it was late morning, the sun hid behind thick clouds which produced a healthy drizzle, darkening the world and giving the background noise of rain against the classroom windows, pitter patter. Kun worked hard to ignore the heavy weight that hung over him, and the dark energy that Huang Renjun exuded from the back of the room. Nobody else seemed to pick up in it, but Kun sure as hell did. He could've collapsed under its pressure, it was so heavy. But he remained strong, resisting toughly against its darkness.

Kun gripped a paperback tightly in his hand. Macbeth. A text he knew well, and found easy to teach.

"So," Kun explained to his class, "As she desperately tries to rub away this invisible bloodstain, we see Lady Macbeth-"

"Sir." Kun was interrupted by Renjun. He ignored it.

"We see Lady-"

"SIR," Renjun interrupted again, raising his voice.

Kun looked around the classroom. Nobody else seemed perturbed by the boy's yelling, nobody so much as batted an eyelid. They all looked rather bored, staring off into space or doodling in their notebooks. Part of Kun wondered whether anyone else had actually heard what he did.

He gave a level sigh. "What is it?" he answered the boy. Kun refused to speak his name, refused to even look at him. He kept his eyes directed down towards the book in his hands, and he noticed his knuckles turn white with their grip.

"Why are you staring at me?" Renjun's tone was lazy, playful. He was toying with Kun. Driving him to his limit? Daring him to snap?

"I'm not staring at you," Kun responded, remaining calm. It wasn't easy; Renjun's darkness was overwhelming, pulsating in the air, making Kun's head throb. It brought out the worst in Kun. Oh, how badly he wanted to throw the boy across the room. But he wouldn't. He would stay calm.

"Yes, you are," Renjun argued, and Kun could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'm not," Kun denied.

"You are," Renjun returned.

Kun dropped his book, which fell with a slap onto his desk. "I haven't glanced at you once this whole lesson," he snapped. Kun cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure - if one could consider this shaky state composed. "We see Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Now, can anyone tell me-"

"Well that's strange."

"Can anyone tell me how-"

"Why are you avoiding me, Kun?"

"Huang, go to the principal's office."

As soon as Kun spoke that name, the deep, dark energy that had been smothering Kun for the past twenty minutes permeated his body, penetrating his very soul. He shuddered. It was dark; so very dark. It was as if by speaking his name, he had let the beast touch him. He had let him inside, he had been infected.

"Fine," Renjun said, standing up. His desk was empty, unlike the students that surrounded him. He had no notebook, no notes. No pencil case, no pens. With nothing to gather, he marched straight to the door.

Kun, in a moment of weakness, or perhaps just a moment of pure stupidity, glanced at the boy for a split second before he slammed the classroom door behind him. A split second was all it took.

Again, Renjun's eyes were fully black. He grinned at Kun, but it was very much unlike the menacing grimace he had displayed a few days prior. His teeth were bared, rows and rows of razor-sharp fangs, needle-like in nature. They were sheer white, polished and shining, piercing Kun's heart from ten feet away.

The door slammed, shutting him out, but that split second was long enough to instill fear in Kun's deepest core, absolute terror. The external darkness eased a little once he was gone, returning to a low hum of evil energy, but Kun was shaking as he resumed the lesson.

As expected, Renjun's behaviour had gone entirely unnoticed by the rest of the class. They didn't even seem disturbed by Kun's raised voice - he was extremely glad about this. He had a deep integral belief that it was wrong to yell at his students. He would have been kicking himself. But he knew Huang Renjun wasn't a student. It wasn't a teenage boy, it was something dark, dangerous. a powerful entity from god-knows-where.

Kun gave his students a task to complete at their leisure, and took a seat at his desk. He gripped the heavy oak, trying to still his shaking hands. Maybe he ought to go back to therapy, he considered. But where would he even start? With the death of his brother? With the return of his nightmares? With the entrance of Huang Renjun.

No, he dismissed the idea. No competent therapist would believe him - he would be sectioned and medicated after a single session. Plus, whatever was going on was solely between him and Renjun; it was completely unseen and unacknowledged by anybody else.

Kun sounded delirious, even to himself. Nothing in science or logic could possibly provide an explanation for what was happening. But he knew it was real. He knew. Huang Renjun was something cruel, something sick. Something that had crawled right out of hell, directly to Kun's doorstep to torture him. He would figure this out, he vowed. He would rid himself of this beast.

Thursday, 3:49pm

The end of the day - Kun had made it. He let himself relax in his desk chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. He had to admit, he was rather proud of himself. Yes, he’d had a minor run-in with the boy, but he’d managed to diffuse the situation and rid himself of the problem. And, more importantly, he hadn’t passed out this time. Kun scoffed at the hilarity of it all - what a ridiculously low standard for a good day, reaching 3pm without suffering a fainting spell. He would go home and treat himself, he decided, by cooking a comforting stir-fried beef dish.

Knock, knock, knock.

Kun sat forwards with a jolt, gripping his desk tightly for some form of stability. He hated living in this near-constant state of fight-or-flight - it could easily be a quiet freshman, coming to ask questions they were too shy to raise in class. It could have been a colleague, a parent, any number of harmless guests. Despite all of the possibilities, Kun’s mind went to the worst place. He was certain he knew who it was. God, don’t let it be him.

The door swung open in a dreadfully slow manner. Pale fingers wrapped themselves around the door, which gave way to reveal none other than Huang Renjun; just Kun’s luck.

“What do you want?” Kun asked the boy, hackles raised.

Renjun didn’t respond. He closed the door behind him, and the click sent shivers down Kun’s spine - what was he doing? Kun could only watch, frozen, as the boy moved. He grabbed a chair from behind a desk, and brought it to Kun’s desk. The shiny metal squealed as it was dragged across the floor, making Kun wince. Renjun sat on the chair backwards, facing Kun and leaning his arms on the backrest. He rested his head on his arms, looking up at his teacher. He was the picture of innocence; wide eyes, a small mischievous smile present on his lips. Kun only sat in silence, waiting for the boy to act. He was action-ready, prepared to bolt (or even fight) should Renjun do anything drastic.

Kun wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before Renjun spoke. Until that point, they had simply been staring at each other, Kun with a panicked look in his bloodshot eyes and Renjun clearly enjoying the effect he was having on the older male. “I’m sorry for upsetting you today,” Renjun said. Kun didn’t reply, only moving his hands to his thighs, digging his nails inwards to ground himself. “Why do you have it out for me?” Renjun spoke again.

To an outsider, the scene would have been simply heartwrenching. Renjun, a very obviously damaged adolescent who had been hurt by the world many times, looking his teacher in the eye and asking why, pleading almost, begging to be treated right for once in his young life. He sounded like a sad, broken young man; innocent, confused, curious.

Kun knew it was a ruse.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kun denied, his voice low and flat. He gathered some papers on his desk and shuffled them. He busied himself, so as not to get lost within Renjun’s dark energy again. If he were to pass out here, completely alone in the classroom, he had no idea what would become of him.

Renjun continued his sad little boy pretense, flashing dark puppy-dog eyes up at Kun. “I didn’t do anything to you,” he cooed. “I’m just a kid, right?”

Kun was certain that Renjun was playing games with him now. He knew that Kun knew. “You’re not just a kid,” Kun snapped, snarling at the boy in front of him. He threw the papers back down on his desk, rolling backwards in his chair to put distance between himself and the child. The sky opened up all of a sudden, rain pouring from the heavens.

“C’mon, don’t be mean,” Renjun drawled. “Play along, Kun. I’m just a kid… Right?”

“I’m going home,” Kun stated abruptly, standing up and preparing to remove himself from the situation. Renjun began to cackle, but Kun did everything he could to shut the boy out. He picked up his briefcase and slung his coat over his arm. A dash of thunder cracked through the sky, and Kun jumped.

“I left you a surprise there,” Renjun spoke, his voice playful.

Kun turned, running out of his classroom and sprinting down corridors. What the fuck had that bastard done to his house? He was barely even aware of the rain once he reached the school’s exit, though it drenched him in a matter of seconds. In the mad dash to his car, his hair fell flat with the rain, sticking to his forehead, and his shirt clung to his body, turning see-through. He rifled through his coat pockets, hunting for his car keys.

To the stray students that lingered after school hours, Kun probably looked deranged. But others’ perceptions of him were the least of his worries at that moment. He had no idea what Renjun was capable of - he had no idea what Renjun even was. A ghost? A demon? Something else? He truly didn’t know. He had to get home, and fast.

Kun was panting when he reached his house, worked up into a complete frenzy of anxiety and agitation. He swung into his driveway hastily, not wanting to lose any precious time perfecting his parking. Half on the driveway and half on his lawn, he stepped out of his car, staggering.

His front door had been completely torn off its hinges. Kun’s hands met his hair, tugging in helplessness. The door itself was laying haphazardly inside the doorway - if you could even call it a door any more. It was in two pieces, ripped apart. Shards of glass and wood were discarded all around. What the fuck had the monster done?

Kun dreaded to think what this looked like to his neighbours. The elderly couple to the left of him must have been terrified to see that beast rip through his house like a hurricane - how had the police not been called yet?

Kun gritted his teeth as he entered his house. He knew he had drawn the curtains that morning, but they had been pulled shut since. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness as he fumbled for the light switch with shaky hands. He almost whimpered when the light flickered on. His armchair had been flipped, and his couch was torn, littered with slash marks, made by a knife or even a pair of claws. Kun looked around the room in horror - this was his home. He felt so attacked, so violated.

His eyes fell upon the mirror that hung above his fireplace, and he was forced to hold onto his ruined couch to save his buckling knees. Scrawled across it, in burning crimson, was his brother’s name, “SICHENG.”

Kun couldn’t breathe. He looked through the letters to his reflection. He looked every bit as distraught as he felt. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, which he supposed he hadn’t, not properly. He looked like a man whose life was falling apart.

His home wasn't a safe place for him any more. Physically nor emotionally. Kun darted around his house, grabbing an old duffle bag and filling it with essentials - a change of clothes, his toothbrush, phone charger. He supposed he didn't need his keys, not when any old stranger could wander inside from the streets. After a moment of deliberation, he threw in his largest kitchen knife too.

Fifteen minutes later, Kun pulled up at a dying establishment, parking his car a little more neatly this time. Elliot Motel read the faded sign, desperately in need of a paint job. The place was deserted - Kun wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed rolling past. But it was remote, and it was a place away from his home where he could lay low and hide out until he figured out what to do.

The bored receptionist hadn’t spared Kun a second glance, for which he was grateful. Once in his allocated room, he double-locked the door and pulled the curtains tightly shut. He didn’t even dare turn on the light, for fear of the yellow glow being visible through the curtains. Although it would come as a shock to him if the place even had working electrics. The dark was better; it gave him a sense of anonymity, and it kept the cockroaches hidden from his view.

Kun perched on the end of the bed, resting his head in his hands. He could hear his heart hammering, the pulsating sound rattled around his head and he could feel it. He couldn’t think straight - his only emotion was blind panic. He leapt up from the bed, too much energy to stay seated. He paced back and forth in the dark, almost tearing out his hair in terror.

Hours passed but Kun couldn’t settle. His brain was going a mile a minute, darting from one place to the next. He was frazzled, and he had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do. He was angry, enraged that this demon would fuck up his life and his home like this. He was terrified, and he felt as though he may be ambushed or attacked any minute. He couldn’t think straight. And exactly as the clock struck midnight, the phone in his dingy motel room began to ring.

Kun yelped, the harsh trilling ring boring into his soul and making him jump. He scrambled to the old rotary phone, tightly gripping the handle and pulling it close to his ear. He heard nothing at the other end, other than very faint static.

“Hello?” Kun spoke. His own voice shocked him - he sounded so unstable, like a scared little boy. The same scared little boy who would wake up from nightmares of losing his brother all those years ago.

A rattling noise came out of the receiver. After a few seconds, Kun realised it was the sound of somebody breathing. Even yet ragged breaths, loud and crackly through the ancient telephone. Kun knew exactly who it was.

“I know it’s you, bastard,” he hissed into the phone. He was met with more silence. Kun was furious. This monster was ruining him - look at what he’d turned him into. A grown man, a man who was esteemed and well-respected. Crouched on the floor of a dingy motel, clutching a telephone, his once neat shirt and trousers now rumpled and sticky with sweat. This couldn’t go on any longer, Kun decided.

“Meet me at the school. 3am. We’re ending this.”

Thursday, 2:34am.

Kun was ready. It hadn't been easy - he'd been through hell and back - but he was prepared. He knew what had to be done, and he was willing to do it.

In the hours since the dreadful phone call which had riled him up immensely, Kun had darted all over town.

To the library, where he had left a broken window in his wake (and he could only hope that his makeshift mask would be enough to save him from breaking and entering charges). He had encountered a dusty section he had never noticed before, which was strange in itself. Being a teacher of literature, the library was a place he frequented, though this section he had never happened upon. He was convinced it only bore itself to those in need, but that fact was neither here nor there. He had rifled through the section, leaving pages torn and books scattered, something he never would have done in his normal life. But he did the research he needed to do, and got the exact knowledge he required.

He had driven back to his house, which no longer felt like a home, to pick up one of the few precious belongings of Sicheng's he had left - necessary for the sacrifice. He had paroled the streets, searching for a stray animal. He never would've harmed an animal but the blood of an innocent creature was needed. He pulled though, apologising deeply to the stray dog which yelped and bit at him.

And there he stood, in the middle of his classroom, clutching his duffle bag which was filled with the most mismatched assortment of offerings. Raising Demons, the book which had proven most informative, Sicheng's red woollen scarf, a vial full of dog's blood, the butcher knife from his kitchen. He looked like a hot mess and he knew it; his shirt was untucked, most of the buttons now undone, and he had lost his tie long ago. He was panting, and he couldn't seem to find his breath no matter how long he stood still.

He looked around his classroom. It was empty, but soon that would change - and that wasn't a comforting thought by far. God, he was wasting time, he thought as he stood there dumbly. But where the fuck did he start?

He ran to action, shoving away the desks that surrounded him, creating a clearing in the centre of the room. He threw open the cupboard at the back of the room and pulled out the old stereo that lay dormant in there. He messed with the dials, twiddling them back and forth until static blared out. He flinched at the sound, but it was no louder than the blaring panic that had been reverberating around his skull lately.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Kun sprinted to the front of the room, grabbing a marker pen and setting to work on the floor. As meticulously as he could with his shaking hands, Kun drew a pentagram, tainting the floor of his beloved classroom. He yanked open his duffle bag, trembling as he placed the items around the pentagram. He picked up the stolen novel, Raising Demons, and jumped to the page he had dog-eared.

Well, Kun thought to himself, No time like the present.

He recited the passage, focusing heavily - he couldn’t get a single word wrong. “Dark Father, hear me for my soul’s sake. I am one who promises sacrifice. I am one who seeks vengeance of the left hand. I bring blood in promise of sacrifice.”

A wind picked up in the classroom, dark clouds materialising and flying around the pentagram in a tight circle, a tornado of evil.

Kun had thought he’d witnessed true darkness in the presence of Huang Renjun; he thought he had seen what evil really was. He had been wrong. True darkness, true overwhelming power, true and pure evil, was what he had summoned before him. Renjun was nothing in comparison to this beast. Kun felt sick.

A voice spoke to him, hissing and spitting, from deep within the clouds. It was deep, grating, abnormal. “What do you ask of me?”

Kun looked down towards the ground. He didn’t want to peer too deeply into this void that had materialised - he knew that anything he saw would scar him deeply. Its energy was horrific enough. This wasn’t a sight he wanted to see. He spoke as clearly as he could, raising his voice to the demon. “Rid me of the spirit that plagues me.”

“Then give me what is mine,” the voice rumbled back.

Kun nodded, trembling. He kneeled on the floor, picked up the butcher’s knife. He placed his hand on the floor, all fingers curled under his fist apart from his pinky finger. He closed his eyes, whimpering as he braced himself. Kun raised the knife and brought it down fast. He yelped; the pain was immense, but he knew he hadn’t yet severed the bone. He took a second hit. A third. A fourth. Again, and again. As Kun screamed, the appendage finally detached.

He reopened his eyes, recognising the blood splattered across the floor as his own. He used the knife to nudge the detached appendage into the pentagram, his nausea intensifying. Blood was spurting from his hand at an alarming rate, and he clutched it close to his chest.

The voice spoke again. “It will be done.”

Kun looked to the clock in his classroom, just as it turned 3. Renjun appeared in the doorway with that now-familiar evil smile on his face. Kun’s vision was spotty, but he could still see Renjun’s grin fall instantly. He couldn’t read the expression on the thing’s face. It could have been rage. It could even have been fear.

“No,” Renjun roared. “What have you done?”

The tornado picked up, and Kun flew flat on his back with the intensity of the wind. A pinprick of light spawned in its centre and Kun had to shield his eyes from it, hiding in the crook of his elbow while his other hand was still clamped close to his chest.

“No! No! Fuck you, Qian Kun!” Huang Renjun shrieked, until… silence. Everything was still. Kun sat up, dizziness wracking his senses. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, he felt something similar to calm. The room was quiet, still, and empty, save for himself. The demon he had summoned was gone. Huang Renjun was gone. The quiet disoriented him; he felt like it had been a while since he truly experienced quiet.

Kun picked up his knife once again and cut along the bottom of his shirt, wrapping the material tightly around his stub of a finger in an attempt to slow the bleeding. He felt faint - he knew he’d lost a substantial amount of blood. He stood, staggering out of his bombsite of a classroom and stumbling into the hallway. He bent, heaving onto the floor, bile burning his throat and mouth. He probably needed to get to a hospital, but how would he explain himself?

Kun felt a pat on his back - a warm, comforting gesture. Wiping saliva from his mouth and chin, he looked up, and found himself staring into a pair of friendly brown eyes, surrounded by aged wrinkles. Something inside Kun simply knew that he was a kind figure, a peaceful figure.

“It’s gone now, son,” the old man spoke, his voice croaky. Kun merely stared at him, wide-eyed, as he talked. “I’ve had students like that one before. They feed on your energy, eat away at you. Look into your past to find the best way to torture you. But it’s gone now. It’s gone.”

Kun stood up straight, or as straight as he could manage in his current condition. He didn’t recognise the teacher standing before him. “Who are you?” he panted, squinting at the other man.

“Don’t worry about me, son, I’m long gone” the man responded with a wry smile. “I taught here long, long ago. Just listen to me - my God, son, if you take notice of one thing in your life, let it be this -” the man leaned in close to whisper in Kun’s ear. Kun closed his eyes, listening as closely as he could despite his faltering consciousness. “When you involve yourself with something like this, sometimes they come back.”

When Kun opened his eyes again, the man was gone.

Kun wobbled outside, breathing in the night air as if he’d been deprived of oxygen for weeks. It was over, the weight on his chest was gone. He could breathe. He could live. All he could do now was pick up the pieces. But the old man’s words echoed in his mind,

Sometimes they come back.

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rhosyn-du · 3 years

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Five

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Five

Jace worried that things would be weird when they got back home. He and Simon hadn’t spoken since New Year’s. He’d thought about texting, had in fact written and deleted at least a dozen texts over the next three days, but he never actually sent one. After all, Simon was the one who left without a word, and Jace wasn’t the kind of guy who chased after a hookup who wasn’t interested.

But when he finally got back to the apartment, it wasn’t weird at all.

He arrived home late afternoon the day before classes were due to start again to find Simon and Maia on the couch playing Overcooked. Simon glanced away from the game just long enough to tell Jace there was pizza in the kitchen if he wanted some, and that was it. The three of them spent the rest of the evening gaming, Simon acting like nothing at all had happened and Jace trying to convince himself that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. If Maia noticed anything, she didn’t let on.

The beginning of the new term was busy enough that they didn’t see each other much over the next few days, and Jace threw himself into his new classes with an enthusiasm he usually reserved for more hedonistic pursuits. Thursday night found him at his desk, deeply immersed in his world history reading. He was in the middle of a very dry passage on the Byzantine-Norman wars when he heard a light knock on his bedroom door.

“What is it?” he answered, not looking up from his book.

“Hey,” Simon said, opening the door. “I was just wondering what you were doing tonight.”

Jace looked up from his book only to have his brain come to a screeching halt. Simon was standing in his doorway, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A small towel. It was disturbingly reminiscent of that first week living together, when Jace had realized exactly how hot Simon was. Except now he knew what it felt like to touch Simon, to kiss him, knew how he liked to have his dick stroked and the noises he made when he came.

With great effort, Jace snapped his eyes up to Simon’s face. Simon, who was still talking like nothing at all was off about him just strolling into Jace’s bedroom mostly naked.

“Because I don’t have any plans, and I was thinking maybe you might want to do something. You know, if you’re free.”

There were many things Jace wanted to do, all of which involved divesting Simon of that towel.

“Were you planning to put pants on?” Jace was proud of how level he managed to keep his voice.

The look Simon gave him was somewhere between flirtatious and challenging. “Do you want me to?”

He didn’t. He really didn’t, but he also didn’t know what the hell was going on, and while Jace would never say he didn’t knowingly walk headlong into bad choices on a regular basis, he tried not to make the same mistake twice. Three times, tops.

“Simon,” Jace said levelly, “what are you doing?”

“Seducing you?” Simon seemed to deflate a little. “Or, you know, failing to seduce you, apparently.”

“Not exactly failing,” Jace admitted, standing to move closer to Simon, who gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. “But I thought you said this was a mistake.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” Simon said, “and maybe I was wrong.”

Hope rose like a cresting wave inside Jace’s chest, and he struggled to keep it from sweeping him away. “I had fun on New Year’s.”

“Me too,” Simon said, taking a tentative step closer. “Like, a lot. And I was thinking, you know, we’re obviously into each other, so maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Wouldn’t be a mistake.”

Jace found himself nodding. This could end in disaster, probably would end in disaster if his life thus far were any indication, but standing here with Simon so close, his smile so bright, Jace thought maybe it was worth the risk.

“I mean, as long as you’re not seeing anyone else,” Simon said quickly, and that rising swell of hope crashed like shattering glass. “Because I don’t really—”

“I get it,” Jace interrupted. He didn’t actually need a detailed explanation of why Simon was only interested in hooking up with him until someone better came along. It was all anyone ever wanted from him, and most of the time it was what he wanted, too. “We’re both hot and single, so as long as neither of us is seeing anyone, there’s no reason we can’t have fun together.”

Simon’s brows furrowed, and for a second Jace worried that he hadn’t managed to hide his disappointment, but then Simon was smiling at him again. “Yeah, of course. That’s exactly what I meant.”

“In that case,” Jace said, taking the last step that put him firmly inside Simon’s personal space, “my answer to your earlier question is no.” When Simon started to frown, he clarified, “I don’t want you to put your pants on.”

“Good,” Simon said, leaning in so that their lips just barely brushed as he spoke, “because I’d much rather take yours off.”

Their mouths met in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, and Jace had to pull away after only a few seconds because of how much he wanted.

“Do you think we can make it to a bed this time?”

Simon glanced over at Jace’s bed, as though he were seriously contemplating the answer to that question. “I think we can probably manage.”

“Good,” Jace said, catching Simon’s gaze and holding it. “Because I really want to suck you, and you’re not going to be able to stay standing when I do.”

Simon kissed him, hard and fast. “If you keep talking like that, we definitely won’t make it to the bed.”

It took them far longer than it should have to make it across the room, mostly because Simon seemed intent on making sure Jace wasn’t wearing any more than he was by the time they got there, but Jace eventually felt the backs of his knees connect with the edge of the bed and pulled Simon with him as he tumbled into it. They landed in an awkward sprawl, half-laughing into the kiss they refused to break as Jace tugged at the towel that was somehow still knotted around Simon’s waist.

Simon made one of those soft, desperate noises that Jace was quickly becoming addicted to as the towel fell away, and Jace stroked a hand up Simon’s thigh, just high enough to tease. He left it there, unmoving, as he deepened their kiss, licking into Simon’s mouth with intent.

It didn’t take long until Simon’s hips were moving, trying to find friction for his rapidly hardening cock. It took only a few seconds longer for him to realize Jace was doing it on purpose.

“Should’ve known you’d be like this,” Simon said between kisses. “Just as much of a dick in bed as you are everywhere else.”

“Not much of an insult, considering that you like my dick,” Jace answered, finally moving his hand to trail lightly up the length of Simon’s cock, eliciting a shaky gasp. “Consider this payback for coming in here in nothing but a damn towel.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

That was all the warning Jace got before he found himself on his back, hands pinned to the bed above his head, Simon straddling his thighs. He flexed his arms experimentally, determined he probably could get free with enough effort and also that he really didn’t want to.

He cocked an eyebrow at Simon. “What are you going to do with me now that you’ve got me?”

Simon swallowed hard. “So much,” he said seriously. “You said you want to suck me and that works out because I kind of really want your mouth, but first I’m going to show you what happens when you’re a tease.”

“You’re one to talk about teasing. Do you ever bother to take clothes into the bathroom with you when you shower?”

Anything else Jace might have said was lost in a startled gasp as Simon’s mouth closed over his left nipple, a swirl of tongue punctuated by a sharp nip of teeth. Simon repeated the treatment on the right, and it was enough for Jace’s hips to give a tiny, involuntary jerk. Against nothing at all, since Simon was sitting far enough back to keep him from getting any kind of friction.

Jace managed to bite back the frustrated whine that wanted to escape. He wouldn’t give Simon the satisfaction.

“I wasn’t sure you noticed,” Simon said, before returning his attention to Jace’s nipples, and it took Jace several seconds to remember what they were even talking about. When he finally did, he lost any hope he’d had of keeping quiet. Simon had thought about whether Jace was watching him, had maybe wanted Jace to watch him. And that was…that was a lot.

“Fuck,” Jace gasped. His hips were moving again, unable to keep still. “Fuck, Simon.”

“Hmm?” Simon asked innocently as he finally ceased his assault on Jace’s nipples. “Something I can do for you?”

“You could try not being such a—” His words were cut off, lost into the ether with any possibility of coherent thought as Simon’s teeth sank into the skin just beneath his clavicle, hard enough to leave behind a pleasant ache. He wondered if there would be any hint of a mark left by morning. He hoped there would be.

Jace let his head fall back against the bed, baring his neck in invitation. Simon’s hands weren’t pinning his to the bed anymore so much as holding them. Simon seemed happy to take him up on his invitation, worshiping Jace’s neck with tongue and teeth, and finally sucking a deliberate mark into his skin, just above his collarbone, where it wouldn’t be obvious unless he wanted it to be.

“Simon, please.”

“Please, what?” Simon asked, all amused faux-innocence. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“Want you,” Jace growled, finally breaking free from Simon’s grip to tangle a hand in his hair and drag him into an impatient kiss. Simon kissed back, just as desperate, and made absolutely no protest when Jace pulled their hips together to finally get some friction. The kiss slowed, no less wanting, but a little less frantic as they rocked together.

“You have me,” Simon murmured against his mouth, and Jace shuddered with the weight of those words, with how much he wanted them to mean so much more than Simon intended them. But he did have Simon now, and he was going to make the most of it. Which reminded him that he’d gone into this with a plan.

Simon made a noise of protest when Jace pulled away but quieted immediately as Jace moved down his body, tongue following the line of dark hair that led from his chest down to his belly button. He got distracted there for a minute, tracing the lines of Simon’s abs with his tongue, reveling in the way the skin tensed and relaxed under his mouth.

“What did I tell you about teasing?” Simon asked, breathless.

“Don’t remember,” Jace lied, sliding down so that his breath ghosted over Simon’s cock, making his hips jerk. “But you seem pretty into it.”

He didn’t give Simon the chance to respond, sliding his mouth over Simon’s cock and taking him down to the hilt in one smooth motion, swallowing around the head. It was almost too much, too quick, and Jace had to fight back his gag reflex, but it was totally worth it for Simon’s broken-sounding, “Holy shit.”

Jace backed off, tonguing at Simon’s slit and sucking at the head of his dick before sliding back down, then repeating the pattern. It wasn’t the first time he’d deep-throated a guy, but it wasn’t something he had a ton of practice with either, much as he enjoyed it, and he knew better than to rush himself. It got easier every time he took Simon into the back of his throat, spurred on as he was by Simon’s near-incoherent stream of curses and praise. He lost himself in the sound of Simon’s voice, the weight of him on his tongue, the taste of him as he leaked steadily into his mouth.

After a few minutes, Jace realized that Simon was holding back, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his hips still, one hand fisted in the sheets beside Jace’s head. Jace pulled off Simon’s cock with an audible ‘pop,’ and Simon’s whole body jerked.

Jace met his eyes. “You don’t have to be gentle with me.”

Simon opened his mouth, closed it again, stunned into silence for once.

To illustrate his point, Jace took Simon’s hand from where it was tangled in the sheets and placed it on his head. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Not gentle,” Simon repeated, eyes dark and steady as his hand tightened in Jace’s hair. “I can do that.”

Jace lowered his head back to Simon’s dick, never breaking eye contact, letting the head just rest against his parted lips. Simon gave a shallow, experimental thrust, and Jace moaned around him, relaxing his throat so he could take him deeper. Simon thrust again, and Jace let his eyes flutter closed as Simon began to fuck his mouth in earnest.

“Fuck,” Simon panted. “Do you even know…know what you look like right now? Like, you’re always hot, but this is just…fuck. Wish you could see yourself. Wish I could have you like this all the time, except…except I’m definitely not going to last that long, and you’re just. Fuck, Jace, you’re perfect.”

Jace would have been embarrassed by the noise he made at Simon’s words, except that Simon seemed very into it, thrusts picking up speed as he continued in a broken voice, “Oh god, you— So good. I can’t— Shit. Your mouth—”

With a half-voiced gasp that might have been Jace’s name, Simon thrust deep one last time and came in hot spurts down Jace’s throat. Jace swallowed it all, dizzy from arousal and lack of air. He didn’t think he’d ever been this turned on in his life.

And then Simon was tugging Jace up by his hair, kissing him hard and deep like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of himself in Jace’s mouth.

“Perfect,” Simon repeated as his hand closed around Jace’s cock, and all Jace could do was hold onto him and make desperate noises that he would absolutely deny later into Simon’s mouth as Simon expertly jerked him off. It would have been embarrassing how quickly he came, except that Jace was beyond embarrassment, beyond anything but the feel of Simon’s hand, his body, his mouth.

After, they lay together a while longer, exchanging lazy kisses until it became so much that Jace had to pull away. He couldn’t let himself get used to this.

Simon watched him, that tiny thoughtful furrow that Jace found so endearing forming between his brows. When he opened his mouth to speak, Jace cut him off.

“I was thinking, if we order Chinese now, we’ll have just enough time to wash up before it gets here. And after, I want to ride you until you can’t remember anything but my name.”

“I…” Simon blinked at him. “I think I am literally incapable of turning that down.”

“Cool.” Jace rolled off the bed, refusing to look back at Simon, all sex-tousled and sweaty in his bed. “I’ll grab the takeout menu.”

~~~

The Hunter’s Moon was busy for a Tuesday night. Not packed like it would be on the weekend, but definitely more than the usual crowd. Rock Solid Panda wasn’t a big enough name to draw a huge audience, but it was clear they were finally starting to make a name for themselves. It probably helped that they’d finally decided on and stuck with a name for more than two gigs.

Maia was working tonight, and Jace joined Lily and Bat at the bar so they could chat with her when she wasn’t too busy with other customers. It was the first time they’d all hung out together since they got back from break, and Jace had been both looking forward to and dreading the show. Looking forward to it because, despite anything he might say to the contrary, he’d actually kind of missed his friends. Dreading it because his friends knew him, knew Simon, and he really didn’t want to have the conversation he knew would happen if they figured out he and Simon were sleeping together. He wasn’t sure which would be worse, them making the same assumption they had in the coffee shop, that he and Simon were actually together, or them recognizing what was actually going on and knowing that Simon could so much better than Jace, realizing that Jace was willing to take whatever Simon would give him.

“You starting with beer or vodka tonight?” Maia asked as he slid onto a stool.

“Beer,” Jace answered. “I’ve got eight a.m. Latin this semester.”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Lily told him, “that you insist on studying a dead language for fun, that you’re willing to be in class at eight in the morning to do it, or that you’re letting it keep you from getting properly drunk at your best friend’s show.”

“I took Latin in high school, and it just makes sense to stick with it for my language requirement, and Simon isn’t my best friend.”

“Oh, sorry,” Lily said, “your fake boyfriend’s show. Speaking of, seems like none of us has won that bet, yet. I’m impressed.” She looked up at Maia, who set a frothing pint in front of Jace. “Unless you’ve been holding out on us, Roberts.”

“Nope,” Maia said, shaking her head. “They both made it through the entire break without my assistance.”

“We’re proud of you, buddy,” Bat said, patting his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jace said. “We were fine. Minimal family drama, and Simon charmed the hell out of my entire family.”

Maia’s eyebrows climbed almost to her hairline. “Even Maryse?” She’d never actually met Jace’s adoptive mother, but she’d heard more than her share of stories.

“Even Maryse,” Jace confirmed. “I think starting dating again has mellowed her out a little.”

At Lily’s prompting, Jace gave an abbreviated—and entirely sanitized—rundown of his visit home. Maia gave him an odd look when he mentioned Magnus’s party, but she didn’t say anything. Jace brushed it off, but it left him with an unsettled feeling.

“Hey, you,” Maia said to someone behind them just as Jace was finishing up his story.

“Hey,” Simon said. Jace could hear the smile in his voice even before he spun around to face him. “We just finished setting up and wanted to come say hi before we start our set. Becky says ‘hi back,’ by the way,” he told Maia.

“Did she say anything else?” Maia asked hopefully.

“Nope,” Simon said. “Well, she told me to stop being dumb when I suggested she, you know, actually talk to you. You guys know that’s an option, right? Talking to each other directly?”

Maia ignored him, turning to Maureen. “Excited about the big show?”

“Holy shit, you guys,” Maureen said, her own smile tempered by just a hint of panic, “there are so many people here.”

“Yeah, because you guys are awesome,” Maia said. “Seriously, you deserve this.”

“It’s true,” Lily said. “I don’t even like indie rock normally, but you guys are alright.”

“Ooh, ‘alright,’” Simon repeated archly. “High praise from the great Lily Chen.”

“And you better bask in it,” Lily told him. “It’s a shame you didn’t get here a little sooner. You just missed Jace telling us all about your New Year’s adventure.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Wh-what?” He threw a panicked look at Jace, who could only give a tiny head shake.

“Yeah,” Bat said. “We heard you got your ass kicked at Land Mines.”

“We lost by one shot!” Simon protested, visibly relaxing despite his scowl.

“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” Jace told him, smirking.

“Really,” Simon said, turning to look at Jace with a calm intensity that Jace had gotten to know very well over the past several days, one that had his dick twitching with interest. “I’ll remember that.”

“Let me know if you need a reminder,” Jace said, leaning back against the bar. He saw Simon’s eyes flick to his collarbone, where the fading mark he’d left was just visible above the open collar of Jace’s shirt. It was light enough now that no one looking at it would know what it was at a glance, but Jace knew. And more importantly, Simon knew.

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs a reminder,” Simon said, and Jace had to actively suppress a shiver.

“Anyway,” Maureen said pointedly, giving them both a dubious look, “we should probably get back on stage. We’re on in five minutes.”

“Right,” Simon said, tearing his gaze away from Jace. “Playing music. That thing that we’re doing in front of, wow, so many people.” His grin was back as he looked at Maureen. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit!” she agreed, pulling him toward the stage.

“I’d ask what that was about,” Lily said, “but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Jace said, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

“Wow,” Bat said. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of a shitty liar?”

“If Jace had to explain every time he did something weird, he’d never stop talking,” Maia said, and Jace wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful. He was saved from having to decide by Simon stepping up to the mic and introducing the band.

Rock Solid Panda’s set was mostly music Jace knew, mostly their early songs with a few covers thrown in. As they played, Jace found himself paying less attention to the music and more to the way Simon’s hands moved as he played, the way he lost himself in the music. It wasn’t the first time Jace had found himself watching Simon, but it was the first time he let himself keep doing it.

“So, this last song is new,” Simon said. Over the course of their set, the crowd had gone quiet. “I just finished writing it a few days ago, and we’ve only played it a couple times in practice, so it might be a little rough. But, um. Well, I hope you like it. This one’s called Random Afternoon.”

As Simon plucked out the opening notes, Jace recognized it as something he’d heard vague snippets of over the past couple weeks, just the guitar line as Simon worked through it in his room. This was the first time he’d heard any of the lyrics, though.

It was a love song. Melodic and melancholic, it spoke of a love that didn’t sweep you off your feet but bloomed in a thousand tiny, mundane moments. A love that started as the faintest flicker and grew to a consuming inferno before you realized you were in danger of getting burned. A love that was wholly unrequited, because those moments didn’t mean the same thing to them as they did to you.

Jace drained the last of his beer, trying to settle the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy. He didn’t get jealous. It was just a song, and he and Simon weren’t even together really, so even if Simon was harboring feelings for someone he couldn’t have, it wasn’t any of Jace’s business.

He turned to the bar, intending to ask for another drink—something stronger this time, maybe—only to find Maia already there, sliding a glass of water over to him. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told him, shaking her head like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she did. She was the only person he’d ever talked to about…any of this. But at least last time she’d given him tequila.

He looked back to the stage, sipping his water and wishing he’d insisted on tequila.

~~~

“Thanks for staying and helping us get all the equipment loaded back in the van,” Simon said when they got back to the apartment several hours later. “You didn’t have to, and I know you’ve got early class tomorrow.”

“It was wholly self-serving,” Jace told him. He still felt unsettled and far too sober. “You would have woken me up when you got home, anyway, and it would have taken you longer without my help.”

“Well, whatever your reasons, I appreciate it,” Simon said. “I still can’t believe so many people showed up.”

“I can,” Jace said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch. “You played a good show.”

“You really think so?” Simon looked genuinely surprised, and it only added to Jace’s feeling of disquiet.

“Yeah,” Jace said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It should have been. Maybe he wasn’t as effusive in his praise as Bat or Maia, but he’d been to basically all of Rock Solid Panda’s shows over the past two years. “You put a lot of yourself into your music.”

As soon as the words were out of Jace’s mouth, he was thinking of the new song Simon had played. Maybe he’d been thinking about it the whole time. From the way Simon froze, Jace knew he’d hit a nerve.

“Sometimes,” Simon said. “But not always,” he added quickly. “Sometimes, I write songs about, like, random thoughts that come into my head, or stuff that’s happened to other people, or, you know, Maureen and I even collaborate on writing sometimes, so some of the songs are hers.” Simon was babbling. He was kind of a terrible liar.

“It was a compliment,” Jace said with an amusement he didn’t feel. “You should learn how to take one.”

“Oh,” Simon said. “Right.” He forced a smile that almost looked genuine. “Thank you.”

Jace shook his head. “I give that a C-plus at best. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“You know what?” Simon said, raising his chin. “I take it back. I shouldn’t be thanking you, because Rock Solid Panda is awesome, and our music is awesome, and you should be complimenting us, like, all the time.”

“That’s more like it,” Jace said, grinning.

“No, now I just sound like you,” Simon said, shaking his head.

“Exactly.” Because I’m awesome and people should be complimenting me all the time.”

Simon gave him an unimpressed look. “Remind me why I’m friends with you again?”

“We literally just went over this,” Jace said, lounging against the wall. “Because I’m awesome and people should—”

“Oh my god, stop talking,” Simon said, but he was obviously fighting back a smile now. “Seriously.”

“You going to make me?” Jace challenged, and this was probably the kind of thing Maia meant when she told him not to be stupid, because he knew now that Simon was in love with someone else. Or hung up on someone, anyway. And Jace was at least honest enough with himself to know that he was just asking to get hurt if he kept having sex with a guy he was maybe into as more than just a friend with benefits who didn’t feel the same way about him.

He was also honest enough with himself to know he was going to do it, anyway.

Simon shook his head. “Nope. That’ll just encourage you.”

“See, you say that.” Jace stretched his arms above his head, very deliberately arching his back and making his shirt ride up to reveal a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. “But this is totally doing it for you.”

“I really kind of hate you sometimes,” Simon said without heat before stalking over and pinning Jace’s still-raised wrists to the wall above his head.

“Oh yeah?” Jace said, rolling his hips shamelessly against Simon’s. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

The kiss was hard and bruising, Simon’s body pressing him into the wall like he was trying to erase every millimeter of space between them. Jace kissed back just as hard, exerting just enough pressure with his arms to make a show of protest, but not nearly enough to break Simon’s hold. Maybe he’d never be the kind of guy Simon wrote love songs about, but like this, he knew what Simon wanted, what he liked, and he planned to give it to him.

They were both breathing hard when Simon broke the kiss to say, “Bedroom, now.”

“Yeah,” Jace agreed, a little dazed.

“Mine, not yours,” Simon added seriously. “I want you in my bed.” He put just a little more pressure on Jace’s wrists before releasing them entirely.

Jace felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs. They hadn’t actually done anything in Simon’s room. They mostly ended up in Jace’s room, or on the couch, and there had been that one time in the bathroom when they had decisively concluded their shower was not big enough for anything other than getting clean. But never in Simon’s room, and the idea that he wanted Jace there, in his bed, made something inside Jace tremble.

Simon didn’t give him time to dwell on it, kissing him again before turning to walk down the hall toward his room, expecting Jace to follow. Knowing Jace would, probably, because somewhere along the line Jace had apparently lost any ability he once had to say no to Simon.

As soon as he made it to the bedroom, Simon was kissing him again, deep and filthy and full of promise as he quickly and efficiently divested Jace of his shirt and pants.

“Eager,” Jace observed as he kicked free of the pants that had pooled around his ankles, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer-briefs.

“You wanted me to show you how much I hate you,” Simon said. His smile and tone were teasing, but there was something else in his eyes that Jace couldn’t quite identify. “So that’s what I’m doing. Get on the bed.”

Jace made a show of stretching out on the bed, reveling in how Simon followed his every move with his eyes.

“You just planning to look?” he asked when Simon made no move to follow him.

“You kinda deserve it,” Simon said, pulling off his own shirt. “But no.” He kicked off his pants and crawled up the bed until they were face to face, his knees bracketing Jace’s hips. “Because you’re right. This totally does it for me.”

He leaned down to bring their mouths together, and it was slow and gentle in a way Jace wasn’t expecting, wasn’t prepared for, and he felt like he was being unraveled by it, all the loose threads that made up the tangled mess that was Jace being pulled apart by Simon’s lips and tongue and breath.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Simon told him, mouthing along the skin of his jaw. He took one of Jace’s hands and wrapped his fingers around the slats of the headboard, then did the same with the other hand. “You’re going to keep your hands right here like this, and I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to take it.”

As close as they were, there was no hiding Jace’s full-body shiver at Simon’s words, no hiding just how much he wanted, but he still put on a cocky smile and gave his best shot at seeming unaffected. “Bossy. What makes you think I’m just going to go along with it?”

“Because you like me bossy,” Simon said, running his hands up Jace’s arms from his shoulders to where his hands still gripped the headboard and grinning down at him. “This is totally doing it for you.”

Jace’s denial was cut off by Simon reaching a hand down to cup his cock through his underwear, thumb dragging across fabric wet with pre-come. Jace bucked up into the touch, gasping. His hands stayed where they were.

Simon’s grin was smug as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Jace’s boxer-briefs and pulled them down and off in a single motion. Jace made a soft noise—half relief, half impatience—as his cock sprang free from its confines to lie hard and leaking against his abdomen.

Simon’s smugness turned to something almost like awe as he sat back on his heels and just looked, and Jace started to feel that unraveling sensation again even as his cock twitched under the weight of Simon’s appreciation.

Jace licked his lips. “If you want me to take it, you’re going to have to give it to me.”

“I’d tell you to be patient, but I know that’s a lost cause,” Simon said, reaching over to grab condoms and lube from his nightstand. This meant leaning over Jace, close enough that Jace could feel the heat of Simon’s body, but still not quite touching. Until Jace rocked his hips up, rutting against Simon’s hip for the few glorious seconds it took Simon to pull back.

Simon sat back on his heels once again, his free hand moving to Jace’s hip and pressing it firmly into the mattress as he gave him an unimpressed look.

Jace smirked back. “I wouldn’t need to be patient if you weren’t taking your damn time about it.”

“You say things like that,” Simon said, uncapping the lube, “but I don’t think you’ve really considered the full implications of what you’re asking for.” He poured some lube out into his palm, coating his hand, before moving the bottle to spill directly onto Jace’s dick.

“Fuck, fuck.” Jace arched off the bed from the unexpected cold, and before he could even find the words to tell Simon what an absolute asshole he was, the cold was replaced with the heat and delicious pressure of Simon’s hand.

“And anyway,” Simon said, continuing to stroke Jace’s cock with one hand while the lube-slick fingers of his other hands circled Jace’s hole, “this is supposed to be about how much I hate you.” He pressed one finger just inside, teasing Jace’s rim. “So I’m going to take exactly as long as I want to.”

Then that finger slid all the way in, and for a while Jace’s entire world narrowed down to the feel of Simon’s fingers—around him, inside him—and the sound of Simon’s voice, teasing and praising in turn.

“God, look at you.” Simon had three fingers inside him, and Jace had long since lost the ability to form coherent words. Or do anything, really, besides cling to the headboard and writhe under Simon’s touch.

“You’re so hot like this.” He curled his fingers, stroking over Jace’s prostate for what must have been the hundredth time. “And everyone thinks they know how hot you are, but they don’t because most of them haven’t seen you like this, and that’s almost a kind of tragedy except that I do get to see you like this.” He sounded almost as wrecked as Jace felt. “I get to make you like this.”

“Simon,” Jace gasped, and he wasn’t sure whether it was Simon’s words or the curl of his fingers that brought him there.

“Okay,” Simon breathed. “Okay, yeah.” And then Simon was taking his hands away and Jace let out a desperate whine because Simon going away was the last thing he wanted.

“Shh,” Simon soothed as he tugged off his own underwear and fumbled open the condom wrapper. “I’m not going anywhere.” He dropped a quick kiss on Jace’s knee, then leaned back again so he could roll the condom on and slick up his cock. “I promise.”

“Don’t want promises,” Jace said, managing to drag the words out from somewhere. “Just want you in me already.”

Simon let out a faint growl, and then he was hooking Jace’s knees over his shoulders, pinning Jace to the bed with his own body, pushing into him in a single, relentless stroke.

“This what you wanted?” Simon asked when his hips sat flush against Jace’s ass.

It was. God, it was.

“Want you to move,” Jace said.

Simon did, fucking Jace like he wanted to break him, kissing him like he wanted to own him. It was everything, and Jace took it. Because Simon told him to. Because he wanted to.

“Feels so good,” Simon panted. “God, Jace, I just—”

He reached a hand between them to wrap around Jace’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and Jace keened.

“Come for me,” Simon said. “I want to feel you come for me, baby.”

Jace didn’t know whether it was the command or the endearment that pushed him over the edge, but he was shaking apart with Simon’s next upstroke, spilling between their bodies as Simon swallowed the desperate sounds of his release. Simon fucked him through it, not slowing until Jace was trembling on the edge of overstimulation.

“Don’t stop,” Jace told him. “I can take it.”

“Jace—” Simon’s voice was wary, but Jace could feel how much he wanted in the way his body trembled, the way his hips never quite stopped moving.

“Want you to come with your dick inside me,” Jace said, locking his ankles around Simon’s back. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon swore as he started moving in earnest again. “How are you even real?”

Jace wanted to respond with something pithy and clever, but he’d lost all capacity for words, for thought as Simon fucked into him, chasing his own pleasure. It teetered on the edge of too much, would be too much if Jace let it, and all he had it in him to do was hang on until finally Simon’s hips lost their rhythm and Jace felt his dick pulsing inside him as he whispered nonsensical words of affection into the skin of Jace’s shoulder.

They lay like that for what felt like an eternity, yet still not enough time at all, until Simon finally sighed and pulled his softening cock out to deal with the condom. He looked at Jace as he tied it off and tossed it in the trash.

“You can let go now,” Simon told him. When Jace just frowned in confusion, he leaned over and tapped Jace’s biceps, grinning.

Jace felt himself flush as he uncurled his fingers from the headboard and lowered his arms, rolling his shoulders to ease the faint ache. He’d forgotten he was even still holding on. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything that would save him from having to think about how easy it had been to do what Simon told him to do, how much he’d wanted to.

“So, you hate me that much, huh?”

Simon’s bark of laughter was incredulous. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, exactly that much.” There was that look in his eyes again, the one Jace couldn’t place, but Simon tore his gaze away before he could tease it out.

“You could stay in here tonight,” Simon said with deliberate casualness, and Jace felt his heart stutter in his chest. “You know, if you want.”

He wanted it so much it was almost a physical ache.

“I’ve got early class,” he said instead. He was keenly aware of all those loose threads Simon had inadvertently spent the last couple hours pulling apart, ready to unravel him completely with just the right tug. He rolled out of Simon’s bed. “I’m just going to take a quick shower and head to bed.”

“Sure,” Simon said. “Of course. That makes total sense. Um. Sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too,” Jace said, grabbing his clothes from the floor as an excuse not to look at Simon. He knew he wouldn’t be able to say no if Simon asked again.

Simon didn’t.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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