#and the teachers are negligent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

usedpidemo · 5 months

Text

Plaid (Newjeans Hanni)

Hanni Pham is just about the perfect student: consistently top of the class, perennial dean’s lister, well liked among her teachers and peers, an active participant for every co-curricular and extracurricular activity, and overall just a good person to be around.

And you? You’re the exact opposite. Slow, lazy, constantly in self-isolation—always cutting classes whenever you can, struggling with just about everything. You’re surprised you’re still even attending this university as is, despite the countless talks with your professors.

Which is why when she greets you a good morning as soon as you run into each other in the hallway, the books you’ve been carrying crumble like Jenga blocks.

She immediately jumps into action, picking up your dropped books in record fashion to hand them back to you. The cute, irresistible smile etched on her lips is icing on the cake.

“Here you go!”

Admittedly, you feel some type of way about Hanni. It’s conflicting, constantly changing. A little bit of jealousy because she’s the student you wished you were, but also a bit of allure because of how surprisingly attractive she is. You’ve never felt any kind of attraction towards anyone in college besides her. And she turns out to be an exchange student, and you’ve never seen anyone with the combination of cuteness and beauty before she came along.

You take a moment to look into her eyes. Those gentle, warm irises perfectly capture the kindness emanating from her—God, why is she so damn irresistible. It isn’t that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, but you’re merely apathetic and neutral with her. Outside of the same brief rote exchanges—good morning, what’s your lunch, what are you doing after class later—you and Hanni have been, for the most part, worlds apart.

The universe is doing its part to bring you two together, because you can feel it. Tension so thin, you can cut it with a knife.

She never lets up.

She wants to know you.

“I-uh, thanks,” you say, suddenly averting her gaze to your locker instead as you snatch your books back, then in the other direction. Anywhere but her eyes.

Fuck. She keeps staring, leaning her head forward with a lively smile, her hands behind her back, waiting for you to continue. She talks with childlike passion and energy, “We have an exam in accounting later, did you study for it?”

“N-no,” you say, almost stuttering through the simplest of responses, as though your tongue is wrapped up in itself. It should be embarrassing for you to act this awkwardly in front of a sweet girl like Hanni. Mentally punching yourself to be better. It never happens. “Not exactly, I kinda forgot.”

More like you willingly neglected your studies for a nightlong gaming session. It’s an addiction.

Her eyes widen with amusement, as if she sees through the lie. Does she? You don’t know. Maybe she does. There’s so many layers to her that you never bothered to uncover. That’s the price for your negligence and decision to be a lone-wolf.

Hanni reaches her hand into the pocket of her dress shirt and presents a folded up sheet of paper. “Then this with you. Just make sure to hide it underneath the test paper, got it?”

From bewilderment to amazement—your face goes through every emotion, unsure of what would perfectly suit the situation. She doesn’t know you well enough to casually entrust you with a cheat sheet, yet she’s perfectly fine handing it to you over her presumed friends, which includes members of the student council.

Initially, you hesitate, but she’s steadfast in her position, as if you receiving this paper is doing her a favor. You ultimately fold and accept it from her. She grins as you tuck the sheet away in your coat.

“See you later!” she says, before walking past you to her next class. You slowly turn around, watch her leave and rejoin with her friends, one of whom is the student council head. Alone with nothing but your thoughts, you put the strange encounter aside and get moving again.

—————

The next time you see Hanni again is during world history class, right before lunch. Your rather senile professor, who doesn’t give a shit that half the class is either fast asleep, on the verge of, or doing everything else apart from listening to his monotonous lecture, drones on about Napoleon’s European conquest for the second week in a row. Even the patient student that you are, you’ve grown tiresome of it, especially with the dreadful pacing. You’re way behind schedule. At the very least, he seems to be paid well, so there’s a little silver lining.

Looking at her, you wonder if the gods were in a good mood on the day they made her. She’s as enthusiastic about the topic as if it's her first time hearing it. Listening to every single word intently, taking down notes furiously, taking pictures of the presentation even though she has it projected on her laptop because why the fuck not—she was born to be the teacher’s pet. Compare that to half of the class: even the supposed top student in the class is barely struggling to stay awake, clinging to the edges of her seat out of fear she could collapse from sheer boredom. It’s a miracle, really, that there’s at least one student showing this much interest.

The notion creeps up in your mind: Hanni’s right over there, without a care except for the lecture at hand. Your phone rests on the edge of your chair. Her smile, her shine—you want to keep more than just a mental image of her. Something to actively remind you that someone like her exists. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t matter when no one’s looking, especially not her. Only you.

Little by little your hand crawls toward the phone. Then the moral compass inside you resists. You don’t know this girl—not in the slightest. Just because of a simple kind act doesn’t mean you’re completely smitten over her. Most importantly, you remember one important point about Hanni: she’s not from here. She’s an exchange student with a one year contract set to expire in—wait for it—two weeks. The semester ends before then, and it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be gone from your life just as quickly as she entered it once the page turns.

Right as the inner conflict inside your head reaches a fever pitch, the bell rings. On one side, you’re celebrating this moral victory; on the other, you’re punching a mental wall for not pulling the trigger. Before the professor even realizes the alarm already sounded off, all the students have filed out of the room in quick succession.

You briefly consider searching for Hanni in the sea of students making their way around the halls, but seeing that she’s disappeared into the crowd, you decide to let her go. Perhaps the logical side of your brain might be telling you the truth: that she will be a mere afterthought to you after today.

But then there’s the unshakeable, unceasing part of you that refuses to give in. Even as you eat lunch at the corner of the cafeteria, you’re still trying to single out Hanni to no avail. A hopeless situation gradually growing worse with each passing hour.

A not so subtle tap on your shoulder. Look to your side and there’s your angel, appearing at your hour of need. Hanni.

“Hey! Still have the cheat sheet I gave you earlier?” she asks. A few meters behind her is the student council president, Minji, and her secretary, Danielle, engaged in their own conversation, presumably accompanying their friend.

You scramble to find the folded piece of paper somewhere in your bag, forgetting that you’ve tucked the sheet away deep in your coat. Panicked, you jump from your seat to search within your clothes, still unable to detect its tiny presence hiding in your jacket. “Shit—”

“I can give you another copy if you lost it—”

“I’m sure it’s in here somewhere!” you interject, tonally desperate, repeatedly swiping your fingers on the same pockets with no success.

Eventually, you frisk the deepest pockets of your coat, feeling something rough on the edge of your fingertips. Reeling it out, you present a folded piece of paper in front of her. It should be a small win, but it’s an embarrassing loss, especially right in front of Hanni.

“Good to know you still have it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. You’re certain she was trying to suppress her chuckle the entire time, and based on her toothy smile, it’s not very difficult to jump to that conclusion. “Even if you didn’t lose it, I still would have given you another copy if you wanted it.”

“Hanni.” You turn to face her, a complete juxtaposition from her jolly, outgoing personality. Your expression looks stern in searching for answers. “Why are you like this? We barely know each other.”

Surprised by your sudden change in attitude, she takes a step back, pausing to contemplate her answer. Her usually bright demeanor gradually changes to reflect yours. Her smile remains, except it's hiding a little gloom, a little concern. “I just wanted to be kind to you. I saw you were struggling in some of the classes we shared and thought you needed some help. It’s only right to do the right thing, you know?”

In that moment, you regret showing a bit of attitude. Hand to your chest, as guilt occupies your heart and mind. “Oh.” You pause, stare back into those wanting eyes. “I-I guess you were really being kind to me, huh?”

“I don’t make fake answer sheets, let alone give them to people I dislike.” She leans forward, causing you to stagger back, bumping your thighs against the cafeteria stool. “And I like you.”

Your mouth gradually opens, trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Only air and silent noises come out. You genuinely have no idea how to respond to this sudden revelation. It’s not like you’re a popular name among the student body, let alone the ladies; if anything, you were mostly a ghost, only coming into light when needed—and in most cases, when the professors would ask you questions about the topic at hand.

Blinking rapidly, you needed to do a double take. “Say that again?”

“I like you.” She repeats it for you. Twice. With increasing emphasis on those three words to drive the statement home. “I. Like. You.”

Let that sink in. You still don’t know what to say. “I—”

“We can talk about this later in the afternoon. Meet me at Room 204, okay? I’m in a rush and I just wanted to briefly check on you.” You watch her tone revert back to its beaming, bubbly self with each sentence. Before you even have an opportunity to say anything back, she rejoins her friends and walks away again, waving at you while shouting, “Remember what I told you about the cheat sheet!”

—————

Aside from accounting, where you followed Hanni’s advice down to the letter, the rest of the afternoon kept your thoughts mostly preoccupied with Hanni’s departing words. The two classes you shared with her during that period were opportunities to stare at her, watch her from a distance. Three simple words, and yet there’s layers upon layers to uncover. What did she mean when she said them? You barely interacted for most of the semester, yet she still considers you likable. During those long, painful hours of waiting, your curiosity and anticipation slowly built up.

And then, the bell rings at the top of the seventeenth hour. Time to find out.

While students file out in every direction, celebrating their regained freedom, you make your way through Room 204. Peeking from the outside, you see no one inside, not even Hanni. It looks about the same as when you left it—messy. You’re anxious, hesitant, cautious. There’s a part of you that believes she’s merely playing you in front of her friends, and that she might stand you up as a joke. And you have no reason to believe she genuinely likes you, apart from that one simple act of kindness from earlier.

For the next few minutes, in those crucial moments of waiting, all your thoughts and presumptions begin waging war inside your head. You have one foot on the door, with the other looking to go home. It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up; you can write an entire thesis report going over each terrible experience and the feeling of bitterness and pining that followed. At the very least, should push come to shove, this wouldn’t be the worst of them—not even bottom five.

So you pace back and forth in front of the designated room, look at your phone, followed by your watch. Again and again. Minutes, stretching to hours, into days, into a slow eternity. You’re starting to lose hope.

Which is why when she comes across you in the hallway, you feel like a kid finding love for the first time all over again. You’re not even trying to hide your excitement. The stunned and relieved expression etched on your lips, the growing shade of red across your face, the hitch in your arms as they reach out to her because you couldn’t believe she would follow through on her word—

And when she flashes her toothy smile, her mouth speaking words you end up missing—you just want to take her by the hand and run away with her.

She ends up calling your name. Twice, thrice, a dozen times—you’re not exactly sure, but you can definitely lose yourself to the sight of Hanni’s presence over and over. With a hand held on the door, she’s telling you to join her inside, saying she has something important to share with you. At least that’s the very gist of it.

At her request, you leave your bag on one of the vacant seats; you end up sharing the same chair. The tension is palpable. Hanni paces back and forth in front of the desk, quietly ruminating, hiding her concerned look away from your eyes. A wakeup call for you that this is a serious matter. You have a lot of unanswered questions, but seeing the gravity of the moment, you conclude that it’s better to keep them to yourself a little while longer—at least once all the heavy air has been cleared. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move.

“I just want to say,” she suddenly says, still turned away from you, long streaks of dark hair covering her eyes. What they can’t hide is the frown on her lips. “I’m going to miss this place. All the profs, all the activities, but most importantly, all the people. Including you.”

“Me?” You’re not surprised at that statement; you’ve assumed she wasn’t going to be here for the long haul, considering she’s an exchange student. What does confuse you, is how she specifically singled you out from everyone else. You barely know each other. At best, you only teamed up for two group projects, which she mostly did the carrying for. For you, the bar has been set very, very low. “How come me?”

Hanni finally faces you, using everything in her willpower not to cry. Her usually lively eyes twinkle with tears waiting to be shed, but she refuses. Not even the warmest of her smiles can hide the somber and pained expression she has looking at you. “Most of the boys here are—excuse my language—a bunch of fucking jackasses and perverts.”

Not exactly wrong; if you weren’t part of an athletics club or hanging out at bars after class, you were likely to be one of their victims. You know this because you are numb to their asshole behavior. The girls would usually retreat in a subtle manner once they knew their presence, which wasn’t difficult to pinpoint.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “You’re right. I hate their guts too—”

“But you’ve been kind to me from the moment I introduced myself, you know?” Hanni begins to walk toward you, rendering you even more frozen in place. “Even our brief good mornings meant quite a lot. It made me feel welcome.”

You didn’t really think much of it, unaware that it would have this profound of an impact in someone else’s life. And why would you—it’s a habit you’ve been taught since when you were seven. For a moment, you’d think she was being very melodramatic, as if she were practicing theater.

“And—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “Let’s be honest; I know you like me too.”

When she drops those final words, your eyes pop. Wide. Enough to stretch through your forehead and fly up. It leaves you completely paralyzed. A whole truth bomb dropped just like that. She cusps your hands with hers; you freely allow her. Whether it's from utter shock or the desire to hold her like this for so long, you don’t know, but you definitely want to let this moment linger.

“I-I—”

You can feel her hot breath against yours, her face inching closer, your bodies almost entangling into something passionate and warm. There’s nothing stopping you both from finally bridging the gap that’s been separating you for the longest time. Hanni, the charming, popular girl that everyone either wants to be friends with or to be her, seemingly knows you like a book read from left to right. More importantly, she likes you. Tells it straight to your face.

Her arms snake around your neck, leaving you even more suffocated. No longer in her grasp, you find your hands pressed around tiny, fit waist. Her glinting eyes encourage you to let those innermost desires run wild. The suppressed thoughts you’ve been hiding slowly pull you under their influence. You shouldn’t be doing this, yet they’re right there: those sweet, puckery, inviting lips, waiting to be marked, yours and yours alone.

Instead, you end up in a tight embrace. It’s not as romantic as you envisioned. If anything, it’s bittersweet. Deep down, this is her way of saying goodbye, and you’re only realizing what this is really all about. An opportunity to bid farewell on amicable terms. It’s almost cruel that your first substantial interaction outside of school-related activities has to be like this.

You hold on to her tighter. She does the same. You’re unwilling to let go. She doesn’t want to, either.

Resting her head on your shoulder, Hanni whispers in your ear the most calming and soothing tone, “I’m going to miss you.”

You don’t believe you’ve earned the right to say those words back. So the only thing you can do is hold on to her the best you can—for dear life.

Outside, the setting sun is gradually fading away, and so does the natural light it brings. You can stay here, from dusk to dawn, comfortable in this position if she wants to.

She opens her mouth again, and she continues to hum and speak melodies in your ear. “I have one thing I want to do before saying goodbye. Can you help me?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, you nod, saying, “Anything for you.”

Hanni breaks the bear hug then leads you along with her to the desk. With the other hand, she lifts it back to her waist, placing herself in a new and unexpected position: her back arched against the table, with one knee bent beside yours. Her eyes glinting with utter desire, she couldn’t be any more obvious.

Before the realization fully dawns on you, she does the unthinkable.

A simple irresistible kiss, pulling you down by the collar of your coat. Next thing you know, you have Hanni’s back crooked further against the edge of the desk, your lip-lock turning more and more passionate. Nothing overly dramatic and sentimental—only passionate love making.

She wants it. Deep down, you want it too.

“I can’t—” you mutter, drawing your breath, pulling your lips away. But not your hands. It’s in Hanni’s custody now. Your coat halfway down your arms, she sneakily tosses it aside. “Not here.”

Surprised by your sudden change of heart, she leans forward, her fingers now pulling at the hem of your sleeves. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean—look around, Hanni. We’re in a goddamn classroom.”

If only you could throw your arms around in protest to prove a point, but even that wouldn’t save you now.

“This is what I wanted from the start.” Hanni pulls you back in, her eyes hypnotic and irresistible, shining like gold. “You wanted this, too. Don’t play.”

“Hanni—”

She stops you right in your tracks with an impulsive peck on the lips. Curling them through the kiss to form a smile, she murmurs, “Don’t think, just do.”

And you do just that. Kiss her, make out with her as if your life depended on it.

Hanni’s lips taste like they’re meant for you. Sweet like honey. Divine. Heavenly. If it were possible, you’d want to choke on your own breath holding onto them for dear life. Not to mention the hums coming out of her mouth, those subdued mewls that she releases whenever you bite on her bottom lip—you can’t help but sink back in whenever you consider the thought of letting go.

There’s no reason not to; you have this pretty little thing, Hanni Pham, all to yourself. Even your body knows how rare of an opportunity this is. With one hand quietly slipping between her pencil skirt, you navigate your way to the depths of her heat without breaking the kiss. In a flash, she throws her head back, snapping her mouth wide at the new sensation. All that cool, calm expression, gone in an instant.

“Fuck—”

“God, Hanni. You’re so wet.”

She grabs your wrist—that mischievous hand newly buried in her pussy—and urges you further, “Keep doing that. That felt so good.”

And God, does everything about finger fucking her feel incredible. The satisfying squelch of her cunt as your digits press against her warmth, the continuous twisting of her features as she crumbles from the pleasure, leaving her neck exposed for your lips to newly conquer, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing all over Hanni’s body. Seeing her, this usually larger than life figure, fall under your spell pushes you even further.

Like Hanni, you’re still young; there’s only pleasure and the thrill of moving too fast and reckless. One day you’ll end up regretting this, ruminating over memories that could ultimately end you before you even started, but you’d rather take this memento than leave with nothing at all.

You’re both already past the point of no return. Hanni’s underwear hangs casually between her ankles while they’re wrapped around your waist, her neck filled with bite marks and deep shades of red that no piece of fabric can hide. Her dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white camisole desperately seeking to be removed, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s made the crucial decision not to wear a bra today.

Fuck, that bulging ache in your pants is so agitating—both physically and mentally.

“Wait,” you say, suddenly turning around and locking the door quickly, letting her panties fall freely to the floor. It proves to be a little struggle when you unknowingly use your slick-coated hand over your dry one.

“Should have done that first,” she playfully chides, chuckling at you.

Returning to her with your drenched fingers pointed in the direction of her pussy, you respond, “Should have chosen anywhere but the classroom.”

“You’re saying you’d rather do this during our Christmas party?” Hanni lifts an eyebrow, taunting.

“Only if they allowed it.”

“And all those cheat sheets I handed you, all that for nothing?”

“Shut up. Didn’t need them, anyway.”

Hanni can’t help but burst into boisterous laughter. There’s no use locking that door now.

Even with the little time spent together, there’s clearly magic between you, the signs of what should have been a beautiful relationship. If only you both knew that. But now’s not the time to go over what ifs—only what’s next.

She stops you right as you ready yourself, grabbing the top button of your shirt. Using only her expressive eyes for approval, you steadily watch on till they’re completely undone. You’re left with the job of removing your undershirt and helping her toss your clothes aside. On the other hand, you’re in no rush to undress her completely; she’s a perfect mess as is with her unbuttoned uniform, her panties somewhere between your feet, and her taut nipples poking through the fabric.

And Hanni wants it that way. You’ve barely entertained the idea of running your fingers through her skirt when she interrupts your train of thought.

“You haven’t done it yet,” she says looking at your greedy, grubby hands, directing them with hers underneath her garment. “Make me cum. Please.”

As if you had any other intention. Maybe with something better, but that’s usually saved later—and for good reason.

You’re trying so hard not to curse through gritted teeth. Fuck. This. Damned. Skirt. Admittedly, it’s cute and perfectly suits Hanni; it adds to the appeal of seeing this usually meek, well behaved student asking for something more than naughty—it’s downright criminal—but you need to see what makes her really tick. Hanni’s clicking her tongue, growing more frustrated by the second than you are, anxiously waiting for you to come through. Carefully, you push a finger into her, then another, moving in delicate and systemic motion.

Then, it all clicks in perfect harmony:

She releases this pent-up moan from the depths of her chest, as though it were a heave of relief. The initial plunge from earlier makes plunging between her slick folds so much easier. You take a moment to let the satisfying sound sink in: the wet slop of her cunt as it reflexes against your fingers, unable to keep yourself from moaning with delight before you slowly draw back, then in again.

From there, everything takes care of itself.

Hanni dissolves into a whimpering mess, under the hypnotic spell of your fingers fucking her pussy in tempered, intricate strokes, effortlessly and handily. Body shaking, desk quivering under the pressure of her weight, her hands struggling to find reprieve from the overwhelming sensations thundering all over her. She can barely breathe, let alone find the words to speak. Only quick curses. Each and every word so gratifying to hear.

“Fuck—fuck—its—its—so—good—more—”

You don’t give her any breathing room. In the brief moments when you lax, with your fingers either motionless deep within her cunt or pull back, leaving marks on her inner thighs with her own slick, you’re all over her, gently fondling her and kissing her. Half her uniform’s sleeve has fallen down her shoulder, giving you more of her body for you to claim as your own. With every little touch and thing you do, you continue to set her nerves ablaze with nothing to quench her lust.

It’s no wonder she’s such a teacher’s pet; she loves to follow along without any resistance or objection. A fact proven when you lift her undershirt to expose her taut nipples, and your free hand impulsively takes them. You give her left tit a twist, and from her needy lips comes a sharp whine.

“Do it again,” she says, panting, nodding her head wildly, visibly overwhelmed. She doesn’t know what hit her, but it feels fucking amazing.

Of course, you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if she hadn’t asked. Hanni’s body, all yours for the taking. Not everyone can say they fucked the top girl in the class in the classroom of all places.

And you let your body do all the talking. No amount of words nor their depth can adequately describe the sensation of tasting and feeling her figure. First your free fingers, then your tongue—they make their mark on her chest while your other digits crawl to a lazy pace inside her cunt. Not that she minds—she’s too engrossed in the blissful sensation to remotely care. Her hands find their way around your neck and back, scratching and digging away at your skin in an attempt to pull you even closer.

It aches—but not as much as the ache in Hanni’s core. As you inch her closer to climax, you can feel her tremble, propping her head on your shoulder now as her outlet, whimpering, crying, mewling. “Almost—” she mumbles, before she’s caught up again in the sea of her own pleasure. Knowing this, the rest of your body moves like it’s second nature. Faster and deeper, you continue your endless assault on her body, until—

Suddenly, Hanni freezes up, moans over your ear as a moment of silent calm follows. In the succeeding moments, you both remain clung together as her orgasm hits. And by god, it hits her like lightning. Sharp and brutal. Fingers stuck deep in her core as she gushes, quivers all over them. It lingers, leaves you both incapacitated.

Minutes that could easily stretch into hours, stuck on a desk, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated bliss. Eventually, she lifts up her head and lets out a deep breath of relief. Her hands remain entangled with your hair as she pulls herself back. A scope down gives you a short but telling extent of the damage: copious amounts of slick dripping on the edge of the table, down to the floor. You’re a little terrified of what your fingers will look like.

Through half-lidded eyes, Hanni flashes you a smile as she slowly realizes the mess she has become. Cheeks flustered with embarrassment, she quickly pushes down her undershirt, but they can’t hide her nipples’ rigidness. You’re both grinning at each other like mischievous pranksters. Something tells you that despite everything, it’s not enough. The fire in her eyes and the confidence in her laugh says it all: she’s looking for more trouble, and one way or another, you’re gonna be her accomplice.

Before you can even utter a word, you both hear a knock on the door. Through the casted silhouette, you recognize that it’s a janitor. Spent energy be damned, you’re brought back to reality. You quickly turn to Hanni in a state of alarm, “Shit. I told you not told to do this in the classroom—”

Reaching out her hand, she replies, “It’s gonna be fine! Give me my bag and I’ll get us out of this.”

You immediately rush Hanni her bag, and while you hastily put yourself back in one piece, she grabs a pack of tissues to clear all evidence of your little escapade. In no time, you’ve somehow returned the place in nearly the same position you found it. Only one difference: her panties are left on the floor, and she hasn’t bothered to pick them up.

“Wait, your underwear—” you tell her as you pick them off the floor. She’s already on the edge of the classroom, opening up one of the windows to escape. It’s not a suicide jump; only someone with brittle bones could possibly break their legs doing the drop, and there’s really no other choice: run away with her or find yourself at the dean’s office on your first day back after the holidays.

“Keep it if you want.” Hanni shoots you a playful wink and a cheeky grin as she lifts one leg over the open window. “We don’t have much time, so unless you wanna explain yourself to the profs—”

“I’m already in trouble regardless,” you reply as you join her on the way out. You didn’t need to think about what to do. “Got eight missed phone calls from my fam. I’m fucked regardless. Might as well make the most of our time while we’re here.”

—————

A/N: Happy new year! I never thought I’d write something for NewJeans, but never say never. Hanni was easily the scene stealer for me at the Asia Artist Awards, she and the other members constantly waved at us from beginning to end, and they were killer performers! I can see why she’s so adored; she’s both talented and adorable. It’s been difficult getting back into writing after one month away, so this definitely is a feel-out attempt, but I hope it’s still good anyway. Here’s to the coming year and hopefully more to come. Thanks for reading!

P.S. I sincerely want to take this moment to apologize for my slow production. As previously mentioned, I got hit with a severe case of the flu, which kept me down for almost two weeks. Since recovering, I’ve been experiencing weird cases of brain fog, where sometimes my mind ‘isn’t there’ and it feels like my body’s been moving on autopilot. I’ve been getting healthier since then, but the so-called absentmindedness still remains. I’ve tried writing a few times since then, and it honestly feels like I’ve forgotten how to write. Hell, this fic was supposed to be out on Christmas day and I’ve struggled to put it together! It’s been very rough. I don’t wanna make promises because I’ll just end up breaking them, so I’ll just say that I’m trying my damned hardest to get back to that level I had been moving before my momentum stalled. I always want to deliver the best possible fic for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for being patient with me as always <3

#smut #kpop smut #newjeans #hanni

1K notes · View notes

moamidzyism · 3 months

Text

the seven stages of you and i (c.sb)

summary. when you first met soobin, you knew he was going to play a lead role in your life. you were going to make sure of it. you just didn't know what to expect.

or: the story of a boy, a girl, and the turbulence that fills the space between them.

wc. 14,444 words

genre. angst

tags. soobin x fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers to ???, best friends to lovers, minors DNI, negligible amount of smut (implied virgin!soobin x virgin!reader, first time, protected sex) featuring beomgyu, taehyun, and kai from txt, yuna from itzy, and arin from oh my girl

a/n. repost; this was also finally edited!!! classic quintessential fay angst!! we're so back!!! i’ve been writing this story for two months. it’s the longest thing i’ve written and i’m super proud of it. please let me know if i missed any warnings or made any typos. i really hope you all enjoy it.

playlist

more of my work

you can vividly remember the first time you ever saw soobin.

it was the summer before third grade started.

it had been an unbearably hot summer and with the school year looming just a month away, you were dreading going back to school and trying so hard to not think about having to meet your new teacher and make new friends.

so to take you mind off the soul crushing pressures of elementary school, you begged your mom to let you go to the park. she refused, claiming she had to work, but the two of you made a compromise and you settled for riding your bike around the cul-de-sac where she could still see you from the dining room table.

you had been riding for thirty minutes, quickly growing tired of the rays of the sun beating down on your skin. you were about to call it a day, but that’s when you saw it.

the gray honda civic driving past you, the sun reflecting on the hood of the car. the woman in the front seat, slowly waking up from her slumber. her husband tapping her shoulder excitedly, looking at his new home in awe.

and him.

the young boy staring out the window with wide eyes as the car pulled into the driveway of the house beside yours.

you darted inside to tell your mom you had new neighbors.

at dinner time, she took you over with some food. “hello, we live right next door.” she introduced herself to the woman that opened the door. “i just thought you guys could use a warm meal with moving and everything.” behind her legs, you could see the little boy peeking at you.

she invited you in and you remember the way their house looked so devoid of life. what was supposed to be the living room was a sea of boxes. your mother sat beside his mother on the old brown leather couch that sat in the back of the room.

you caught soobin’s gaze, watching you taking in the sight of his new home. he looked away when he noticed you looking at him. you moved to sit beside him on the floor.

“i saw you,” he said when he registered your presence beside him.

“what?” you were slightly taken aback.

“outside.” he clarified. “you were on your bike.”

“oh,” you muttered. “my name is y/n.” you reached out to shake his hand. he looked at you, a bit puzzled, yet mirrored the gesture, his grip gentle and feeble.

“i’m soobin.”

“how old are you?”

“i’m almost 10.” he answered, glancing down at his hands.

“why did you move here?”

“my dad got a job.”

“do you want to ride bikes tomorrow?”

“i don’t know how.” soobin looked at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, his shy demeanor even more pronounced.

“i can teach you.” you offered.

and the next morning, at 11 sharp, soobin showed up in front of your house ready to learn. after that afternoon, you decided that you liked him and he was going to be your best friend. he didn’t talk much but he always listened to you, with a goofy smile plastered on his face. when he did talk, he answered all your questions thoughtfully. and most importantly, even after he fell down multiple times, he still showed up at your house the next day, waiting to learn.

by the time you got to middle school, everyone knew that you were two peas in a pod. from the day you met, everywhere you went, soobin wasn’t far behind, following you like a lost puppy. you always carpooled together; you always ate lunch together; you were even in all the same clubs.

and so when eighth grade began, you two were separated for the first time in five years and it was so hard for you to adjust to not seeing him every second of every day.

the first morning of the school year, you stopped yourself from asking your mom where soobin was when he wasn’t at your car waiting for you. you wandered through the halls to your regular lunch table a little surprised and mostly disappointed when you didn’t see him sitting with an extra cookie he always got from the lunch lady. after school, you sat awkwardly, alone, on the bench outside of the school building waiting for your mom to pick you up.

when you got home, you didn’t even bother going up to your room. you threw your backpack on the couch and made a beeline for his house. you flopped onto his bed with a sigh as soon as you got to his room, the softness of the mattress cradling you. he didn’t look up from where he sat at his desk doing his homework, but he acknowledged your arrival with a quiet hello.

“how was your first day of high school?” you asked, emphasizing the last part of your question.

“it was okay.” he scribbled something in his book.

“just okay?” you pressed.

“it was kind of weird.” he turned his chair around and finally looked up at you.

“did you miss me?”

“yeah, a little,” he confessed. a soft warmth bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“i think i might try out for the football team,” he blurted out of nowhere. “or maybe basketball? i don’t know yet.” you bursted out in laughter.

“did i say something funny?”

“you have no athletic bone in your body.” you countered, still chuckling.

“we don’t know that.”

“oh, we do,”

he moved to join you on the bed, books in hand, and you watched him with a fondness that didn’t need words as he made himself comfortable.

“i always tell you not to wear your outside clothes on my bed.” he jokingly admonished.

“do you like your school?”

“i mean, it’s only my first day. but it was okay.”

you paused, both to process what he just said and to figure out how to word what you really wanted to say. “i don’t want you to forget about me or stop hanging out with me or whatever.”

“you’re literally going to the same school next year.” he teased you.

“i know, but still.”

“you’re a hard person to forget about, y/n.”

“you’re just saying that,” you felt the blood rush up to your cheeks, and subsequently rushed to hide your face in his sheets.

“no, i mean, you literally wouldn’t let me forget about you.” he laughed and in response, you threw a pillow at him.

but in the back of your mind, you knew he was right – you couldn’t let him forget about you. and as the days rolled on, you made it a point to go over to his house for hours after school. at least for the first month and a half of the smeester. that was until the demands of school grew and he started having to stay after school for clubs and going over to people’s houses for projects. by the time the holidays rolled around, your moments together were reduced to the seconds you saw him in the mornings when you were both leaving for school. and for the most part, it stayed like that going into the summer.

the summer after eighth grade, you saw soobin a total of three times.

the first time you saw him was on memorial day. your dad, not exactly the biggest fan of your plan to stay home the entire summer, pushed you out of the house to go to his family’s barbecue. you went to soobin’s house with a tray of cookies (because you never go to someone’s house empty handed, your mom told you beforehand). he greeted you with a casual wave before disappearing upstairs to play video games with his friends. you lingered around his house for ten minutes, until you felt completely uncomfortable by yourself, when you slipped away back to your room, cocooning yourself in your bed, tears tracing paths down your cheeks, soaking into your sheets beneath you.

the second time was sometime right after the fourth of july. his dad was taking him on a fishing trip and you just so happened to be getting the mail as they were leaving. you tried to pretend not to see him, eyes fixed on the ground, your heart pounding. and you thought it worked. but later that day, a message lit up your phone screen – soobin confessing that he missed you. you deliberated for two hours before typing out a guarded response: “me too.” two weeks stretched out like an eternity before his next message came.

the third time was actually the day before your first day of high school when he came over to your house under orders from his mother. he stood at your bedroom door, a mixture of apprehension and determination etched across his face.

when you opened the door, all the feelings of abandonment came flooding through your mind – every time you cried thinking about how he was ignoring you, every time your parents had to force you to get out of the house and breathe in fresh air, everything came at once.

“what are you doing here?” you spat at him. your words were a shield, sharp and defensive.

“my mom said i should come check on you.” he responded, his hand absently massaging the back of his neck. you yielded, allowing him to enter the room, but he hesitated, lingering by the door, too afraid to sit down.

“are you nervous about high school?” he ventured.

you met his gaze, scanning his eyes for sincerity. “not really.”

“i’m sorry,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “i’ve been pretty shitty to you this year.”

“yeah, you have been pretty shitty.”

“i meant it when i said i missed you.”

“i know.”

“are we good?”

he didn’t really apologize, you understood that. but sometimes, especially in that moment, it seems easier to forgive him than confront him about how horrible he made you feel. and so you concede, not realizing that you’re setting the precedent for you guys to saunter in and out of each other's lives as you please. “yeah, we are.”

you invite him to sit on the bed with you and he joins you.

“so, what is high school really like?” you ask, trying to clear the air of tension that lingered.

“well, it’s nothing like high school musical,” he began.

and although you were apprehensive about forgiving him so quickly, you couldn’t deny how good this felt. sitting here with him, not thinking about the future or the past. just being here talking about nothing and everything at the same time. if you could, you would have captured this moment and put it in a snow globe to look at everyday.

the next morning, you stood at the threshold of the school building, soobin towering beside you. as you walked into the school together, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in the atmosphere. soobin seemed to be a lot more popular than he led on and he navigated the halls with a confidence that belied his usually reserved nature. students and teachers alike greeted him as you walked through the halls.

“okay, mr. superstar,” you teased.

“well, i am class president.” he tells you shyly.

“why didn’t i know this?” you wondered aloud. he offered you a nonchalant shrug but continued guiding you through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the school.

as you approached your classroom, the reality of where you were dawned on you. you turned to soobin, seeking reassurance from him. “i’ll see you at lunch?”

“yeah,” he affirmed.

with a final smile, you slipped into the classroom, taking a seat beside a girl who was looking at you with wide eyes.

“you know soobin?” she blurted out when you sat down.

your brows furrowed in confusion. “yeah?” you answered, taken aback.

“how?”

“uh, he’s my friend.” you explained, scanning the room for an empty seat.

a spark of hope lit up her eyes. “can you introduce me to him?”

you hesitated, your discomfort growing with each passing second. “i don’t even know you.”

a wave of awkwardness washed over the both of you. without waiting for a response, you quickly gathered your things, seeking refuge in a different seat on the other side of the classroom. what the hell was that? you thought to yourself as the other students filed into the class.

save for that strange moment in the first period, the rest of your classes went by completely unremarkable until lunch time rolled around. you arrived at the cafeteria fifteen minutes after lunch started. you were trying to navigate the way between hundreds of bodies in the hallway and found yourself in a completely different wing of the school. why does a high school have to be this big? you asked yourself when you collided with a girl.

“are you okay?” you asked her.

“yeah, i’m just trying to find the cafeteria.” her response came with a note of relief.

“me too. i’m y/n.”

“i’m yuna and this school is way too big.” she remarked, a trace of exasperation lacing her words.

“yeah, i got a tour this morning and i’m still confused.”

should we ask someone for help?” yuna suggested.

“yeah,” together you venture into a nearby classroom to ask a teacher for help.

meanwhile, in the cafeteria, soobin took advantage of your little detour to offer a preemptive warning to his friends about how to act around the freshman girl that was going to be eating lunch with them.

“i’m serious, you guys, don’t be weird.”

“when have we ever been weird?” beomgyu asked, but his playful tone is punctuated by a stray fry launched by kai, which found its target on taehyun’s head.

soobin gave beomgyu a knowing look.

“we won’t be weird, okay?” his friend reassured him. “what’s with the girl anyways?”

“she’s my best friend and i don’t want you guys to scare her.”

you finally make it to the cafeteria with yuna by your side. soobin introduced you to his friends, and you briefly remember them from memorial day. as the lunch period dragged on, you sat quietly, observing soobin in his element. you never felt this way before, but watching the way he interacted with his friends made him a little more attractive in your eyes. there was a magnetism in his confidence and you couldn’t help but entertain thoughts that had never crossed your mind before.

and from them, you found yourself yearning for those stolen glances, fingers brushing in passing and shared laughter that lingered just a little longer than usual.

being best friends with someone older than you had its perks, especially when that person was as smart as soobin. you were pretty good at biology freshman year, and chemistry was okay too. but no one warned you that knowing the powerhouse of the cell or all the symbols of the periodic table was enough to equip you for an honors physics class.

even though you stayed up for three nights in a row, you didn’t expect to do so bad on the unit test. it was embarrassingly bad. like bringing the class average down bad. like being handed back a folded test bad. you opened your test packet hesitantly, only to quickly close it again upon seeing the harsh, red “36/100” glaring back at you. the room seemed to close in around you, the disappointment heavy in the air.

after class, you went to meet your teacher. “are you sure there’s no way i could get some extra credit or something?” you asked, your voice carrying a mix of desperation and determination.

“y/n,” he said, his tone firm. “if i give you extra credit, i have to give everyone extra credit,” he advised. “if you want a better grade, i suggest you study harder.”

“fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you left the classroom. the slam of the door echoed down the empty hallway.

yuna, who was waiting for you outside your class, scowled when she saw your demeanor. “what’s wrong?”

“he’s such an asshole.”

“what did he do this time?”

you handed her your test and slung your backpack onto your shoulder in frustration. her face scrunched up when she saw the red ink that scattered the page. she reached out to gently caress your hair in a soothing gesture. “oh, honey…”

“and he wouldn’t let me do extra credit.”

“didn’t your boyfriend take this class last year?” yuna asked, trying to find a solution.

“boyfriend?” you replied. you knew where she was going with this, but you wanted to see if she would actually say it. but you knew she was never one to back down. “soobin?” she asks.

“not my boyfriend.” you remind her in a singsong voice, causing her to roll her eyes.

“well, i’m pretty sure he took this class last year. just ask him to tutor you.”

you hum, pulling out your phone to text him.

to soob: i hate to ask you this but i really need your help

from soob: you know i’m always gonna help you what do you need

to soob: one quiz away from failing physics can my bestest friend in the whole entire world help me

from soob: you know you don’t need to butter me up but i’ll take it

to soob: you know i love you so much right? can you come over tonight?

that evening, you meticulously laid out your physics notes and textbook on the kitchen island. you were stressing a lot, and in an attempt to calm your racing thoughts, you decided to bake. the sounds of the mixer and the clinking of the measuring cups was always something that soothed your anxious thoughts.

as the timer chimed, you pulled the tray of cookies out from the oven. just as you set them on the cooling rack, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt of nervous anticipation back through you.

you open the door to soobin.

“thank you again for doing this,” you said as you welcomed him inside. you guided him to the island. “i made cookies, so please feel free to take some.”

his eyes brightened with surprise. “you made cookies? i didn’t know you could bake.”

“i started in middle school,” you confessed, a hint of vulnerability crept into your voice. “my therapist said it was a good way to process my emotions. i don’t know.”

“you’re in therapy?”

“yeah, since middle school.”

“oh.”

the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. you both settle into your seats. the tutoring session began, but despite your best efforts, you found it hard to focus. the equations and diagrams that soobin so easily drew out seemed to blur together and your mind drifted elsewhere. the only thing you could concentrate on was soobin’s long, veiny hands as they gracefully navigated the pages of the physics textbook in front of you.

“should we take a break?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

you blinked, realizing that you had been staring at the same problem for a little too long. “i’m sorry. long day.”

“no, don’t apologize,” soobin reassured you. “it’s getting late anyways. we can always try again tomorrow.”

the next few tutoring sessions followed a similar pattern, but today you managed to gather yourself and focus, determined not to get lost in the small smile that graced soobin’s face whenever you correctly answered a question.

“you know what you’re doing?”

“what?”

“you know what you’re doing. just don’t overthink it.” he was referring to the problem set in front of you.

“oh, yeah,” you replied, your hand moving swiftly across the paper. in your mind, even if you got the question wrong, he would patiently explain it to you. this way, you wouldn’t be trapped in your head, thinking about how close he was to you, close enough to pick up hints of his shampoo, or how pretty his eyes looked with the kitchen lights dancing in them, or how soft his hands felt as they brushed against yours when he took the paper from you.

to your surprise, you managed to avoid any embarrassment for the rest of the session.

“when’s your next test?”

“in two weeks, i think,”

“we can meet a couple of nights a week until then,” he suggested.

as time passed, you found it easier to concentrate, the initial nervousness giving away to a growing confidence. you had to admit. soobin was a good tutor and with each passing day, you felt the weight of the test lessen, until the day of the test.

from soob: test day! how are you feeling?

to soob: i think i’m going to throw up

from soob: please don’t you’re going to do great you know i’m always rooting for you!!

you walked into the classroom with your chin held high, determined to “fake it till you make it” your way into a passing grade, but you spent the rest of the week after that a bundle of restlessness and anticipation.

finally, the day you dreaded the most arrived. the door swung open, and your teacher strode in, a stack of papers clutched in his hand. you held your breath, fingers crossed under the desk as he made his way down the rows, inching closer and closer.

“good job,” he smiled at you when he handed you your test.

after class, you practically sprinted to soobin’s locker, eager to share the news.

“check me out! i’m a nerd like you,” you exclaimed, thrusting the test paper towards him.

“har har,” he let out an amused snort, rolling his eyes. “i knew you could do it. maybe next time we can shoot for a 100?”

“i think we should focus on maintaining this 80%,” you chuckled. “i think this calls for a celebration. can you come over tonight?”

that evening, you and soobin set out to tackle the challenge of baking brownies. he was good at a lot of things but admittedly was very useless in the kitchen.

“it’s fine.” you reassured him, “i can teach you.”

“you’re always teaching me things,” he noted, his ears burning as he looked down at the mixing bowl.

“what are you talking about? i’m literally now passing physics because of you.

“not school things,” he explains. “i mean like practical life things. you taught me how to ride a bike; you taught me how to make friends––”

“i taught you how to make friends?”

“yes, you did. being friends with you just made me outgoing, i guess.”

“hmm.”

“anyways, you’re teaching me how to bake, although i think this might be a lost cause,” he quipped, eyeing the ingredients skeptically.

“just crack those eggs,” you instructed.

while you dealt with other things, soobin stood expertly mixing the batter. “can i taste it?” you asked, holding up a spoon.

“wait, this is so good,” you marveled at your own recipe.

soobin’s gaze met yours, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. he edged closer to you. “you have something…” he said softly, swiping your chin with his thumb, then tasting the chocolate batter from his finger.

“oh, uh, th-thanks,” you stammered, turning toward the sink to hide the elated grin that threatened to give you away. inside, you were almost bursting at the seams.

“so, cookies are for nerves, brownies are for celebration?” soobin asked, as you two settled onto the plush couch.

“and cakes are for when i’m sad,” you quipped, fingers deftly flicking the remote to life. “what do you want to watch?”

“i don’t care. whatever you want.”

wrapped in the cocoon of the soft blanket, you both sank into the cushions, the movie’s glow flickering across your faces.

as the credits rolled on the screen, you and soobin sat up, still close, but the proximity was charged with an unspoken confession.

“did you like the movie?” you asked, attempting to dispel the atmosphere.

“we’ve seen it like a million times,”

“yeah, but still.” you press and he just shrugs.

after a pregnant pause, he finally broke the stillness. “i feel like i need to tell you something.”

your heart quickened, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within. “yeah?”

“i, uh,” his voice wavered for a moment. “i like you,” he admitted, his words stumbling out in a rush, eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance.

“what?”

“i like you,” he repeated, softer and steadier this time. soobin’s heart raced, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he awaited your response. you, on the other hand, were filled with surprise and something else, you couldn’t even decipher. your breath caught. it was like the air had grown heavier, charged with unspoken desires and uncharted territory.

“oh.” you managed to let out. “that’s… oh.”

his gaze flickered back to his hands, usually so steady, that laid, slightly trembling in his lap. “it’s fine if you don’t feel the same. i’ve just been dealing with these feelings for a while and i just needed to tell you.”

“soobin, it’s—”

“you don’t have to say anything; i get it.” he interjected, “just forget about this. i value our friendship a lot more, so i don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“soobin!” you exclaimed your voice firm and determined. “i like you too, but we… we can’t do this.”

“why not?”

“well, for starters, you’re graduating in the spring.”

“and i’m probably going to school, like what? two hours away?”

“i don’t want you to feel like you’re missing out on your college experience by being with me or whatever.”

“y/n, you’re literally my best friend.”

“precisely why we shouldn’t risk it,” you insisted. “i cherish our friendship, and i don't want to jeopardize it.”

“i promise you there’s absolutely nothing that could ever make us not be friends.”

“i don’t… i don’t know.”

“sleep on it, okay?” he conceded, rising from the couch. “i should probably go home.”

you escorted him to the door, the gravity of the moment still lingering. “see you tomorrow?” he asked, framed in the doorway. the threshold seemed both a physical and emotional boundary, like a bridge between the familiar present and the uncertain future of your relationship.

“yeah.”

he leaned forward, a gentle breath of warmth preceding the tender press of his lips against your cheek. “goodnight, y/n,” he murmured before fading into the night.

your fingers lightly brushed your cheek, still tingling from where his lips had been. the sensation was still tingling, like a spark of electricity had been left behind. climbing the stairs you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. you felt like you were floating as you made your way to your room, crashing on your bed, kicking your feet thinking about the fact that he likes you.

the next day, you decided to skip lunch in the cafeteria. “please can you tell me why we’re eating lunch in the library today?” yuna asks, tossing her backpack onto a beanbag in the corner of the library where you settled.

“something happened last night.”

“did you and soobin finally kiss?” she asked, a sly grin creeping onto her face. you look up at her, trying to suppress your smile.

“well, not really.”

“not really? what happened?”

“he told me he liked me.”

yuna let out an excited squeal, earning disapproving glances from the other students.

“and he kissed my cheek.”

“shut up!” she was practically bouncing in her seat, unable to maintain her excitement.

“yeah, you should shut up.” some guy at a nearby table griped, annoyed by the disruption.

she rolled her eyes, returning her attention to you. “anyways, i’m so happy for you.”

“don’t get your hopes up.”

“oh, no.”

“yuna, he’s graduating soon.”

“okay? i don’t see what the problem is. you’ve had a crush on him forever and he was the one who said it first.”

“i just don’t want to do a long distance thing.”

“he lives right beside you.”

“and he’s moving away in seven months.”

“he’s moving to a different town, not a different country.”

“hey, you guys are making a lot of noise,” the library assistant reprimanded, approaching your table. “and you know you’re not allowed to eat in here.” she referred to yuna’s food.

“sorry,” you apologized, your voice meek.

she walked away, leaving you both to your conversation.

“yeah, ‘cause my carrots are going to crumb all over the books,” yuna quipped, but she complied, tucking away her lunch.

“i just don’t want to lose my best friend.”

with a multitude of thoughts swirling around your head, you knew you needed to talk to soobin. after school, you made your way to his house. as you walked to his bedroom, each step was weighed down by the uncertainty and anticipation that filled your heart.

the soft knock on soobin’s door pulled him from his thoughts. he swung the door open to find you standing there.

“hey,” you greeted, your voice above a whisper.

“hey,” he stepped back, allowing you in. his heart raced, a mix of hope and fear coursing through him.

you walked into his room taking in the decor. it hadn’t changed much from middle school. his walls were adorned with a mix of posters. a bookshelf stood against one of the walls, filled with a well-organized collection of novels, textbooks, and mementos. his desk, which sat by the window, was decorated with photos of the two of you from elementary school that you surprisingly hadn’t seen before. looking at them gave you the motivation to have the say everything that you wanted to say.

he gestured to his bed. you settled into your usual spots, the silence stretching, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the clock. soobin couldn’t help but steal glances at you, the room charged with tension.

“so, we should talk about last night.” you took a deep breath. he turned to face you, his gaze steady, waiting for your words. “i’ve been thinking a lot,” you continued. “and i do want to give this, us, a try.”

a smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help but melt. “you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

you mirrored his smile, a sense of contentment settling in your chest. “but,” you added, your expression turning more serious, “you are graduating soon, so we need to be realistic.”

he nodded. “we can face it together, one step at a time.”

you reach out, your fingers finding his. “okay,”

“can i kiss you now?”

“yes,” you giggled.

he cupped your face, slowly closing the space between you. meanwhile, your hands snaked their way to the back of his neck, pulling him down so his soft lips met yours. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

the first touch was as light as a feather, but as a surge of emotion overcame the initial hesitation, the kiss deepened. time seemed to stand still and the moment stretched into infinity until you heard a cough coming from the door.

you quickly pull away from the kiss, your heart racing. soobin’s eyes held affection, his fingers still lightly grazing your cheek. you looked to the door to see his mom with her hands on her hips, a playful smirk on her face. “i was just checking to see if you were going to stay for dinner, y/n.” she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

looking down at your hands, that sat in soobin’s hands, you responded quietly. “yeah, i’ll just text my parents.”

“okay,” she left the room with a knowing smile

“that was so,” you squealed in embarrassment, burying your face in soobin’s shoulder. his warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace as his fingers gently traced patterns on your back.

“at least she likes you,” he joked, making you groan. “we should go downstairs,” he suggests, pulling away reluctantly.

as you proceed to stand up, he playfully tugged you back down, his eyes never leaving yours. “wait.” his voice held a soft urgency, his gaze locked onto your lips. “just one more.” he leaned in, the touch of his lips against yours sending a surge of warmth through your veins. his smile melted into the kiss.

“okay, we can go now.”

you followed him downstairs and avoided his mom’s knowing glances throughout dinner.

for the next few months, you spent almost every day with soobin. the two of you were once again attached at the hip, savoring every moment leading up to his impending graduation.

and the dreaded day of the ceremony arrived. soobin, loose tie in hand, entered his parents’ room with a furrowed brow. “mom, where’s dad?”

“he had to stop by the office, but he’ll meet us there,” she responded, finishing up her makeup. as she finished she turned to her son, her eyes sparkling. “oh my god,” she cooed. “you look so handsome.” she pulled him into a hug.

“god, mom, relax.” soobin chuckled, gently extricating himself from her affectionate grip. he smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt.

“is it a crime for a mother to be proud of her son for graduating?”

“no, but i need help with the tie.” he gave it to her.

she took the tie, fingers deftly weaving it into place around her neck. “is y/n coming with us?”

“no, she’s going with her parents.”

“you know, i’m really glad you have her in your life.” there was a tenderness in her voice, her eyes fixed on her son as she put the tie around his neck, adjusting his collar.

“that’s random.”

“it’s not random. i’m just saying you’re graduating and going to college soon, and i just don’t want you to take her for granted.”

“i won’t. i promise.”

“ok,” she declared, a smile gracing her lips, indicating that she had finished. “good to go, we’re leaving in ten minutes so go finish getting ready.”

you arrive at your school’s auditorium thirty minutes before the ceremony began. you quickly settle beside soobin’s mother.

“i’m so glad you guys could make it,” she greeted warmly.

you scanned the hall, searching for your boyfriend in the sea of cap and gowns. the familiar hum of your phone in your lap brought your attention back to the present. it was a text from soobin, asking you to meet him outside the auditorium.

“is my dad there?” soobin’s voice held a note of urgency when he saw you.

“not yet, but your mom said he’s on his way. are you okay?” your hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder, trying to steady his nerves.

“i’m just nervous about the speech and the fact that he isn’t here yet.”

“well, he’s going to be here. who would miss their only child’s graduation?” you offered a reassuring smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “and the speech is going to go perfectly, okay?”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes, i do! you’ve been practicing all week. you’re going to do great.”

“what if i mess up?”

“if you mess up, just find me in the crowd, okay? i’ll be with both your parents and my parents, and we’ll all be cheering on you.”

“alright, thank you.” he took a deep, steadying breath.

you reached up, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “you’re going to do great,” you affirmed, and with that, he headed through the student entrance into the auditorium.

the ceremony flowed seamlessly. pride swelled in you as you watched soobin take the stage. his dad slid into your row just as he went on stage, and you offered him a thumbs-up, met in kind.

you returned to soobin’s house with your parents for the celebration. the living room was adorned with congratulatory banners and balloons, the most bright and colorful you’d ever seen his house.

for most of the party, you didn’t see much of him as he was passed around by friends and relatives that wanted to congratulate him. but eventually, at some point in the night he finds you and the two of you escape from the party to embrace the quiet of his room. the room was dimly lit, and mostly quiet, save for the chatter and the music softly playing from outside the door.

“god, i really needed this,” he confessed, stretching out on his bed. you nestled beside him, resting your head on his chest. he enveloped you in arms, fingers entwined with yours. “talking to people is exhausting,” he sighed.

“you were amazing today,” you reassured him.

“because i had you there with me.”

“and your dad came.”

“yeah, half an hour late. i can’t believe he went to work today.”

“at least he was there.”

“i don’t even care anymore. i’m just happy you were there and that we’re here together right now. i can’t wait for this summer.”

“i need to tell you something.”

“yeah,” he turned to you, fingers gently playing with yours.

“you know how i’m vice president of culinary club?” he hummed in acknowledgement.

“well, our faculty advisor told me about this culinary school that she thinks i should apply to for college.” you explained. “anyways she thinks i need to get a job or internship or something this summer to make my application stronger.”

“yeah,” his voice took on a more tentative tone.

“well, she connected me with one of her friends who owns a restaurant downtown and he said that i could, like, shadow him for the summer.”

“that’s great but–”

“i know. i don’t think it’s going to stop us from spending time together. we’ll still be able to do everything that we planned on doing. it’s just not going to be everyday.”

“baby, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“i just feel bad.” your voice softened.

“why?”

“we had so many plans.” you pouted

“and we’ll still be able to do them,” he assured you. “i think it might be good practice for us when i go to school in the fall.”

“yeah, you’re right.”

you leaned up to kiss him, and he kissed you back.

the two of you lingered on his bed, the world beyond the room fading into insignificance. then, a gentle rap on the door pulled you out of your trivial conversations.

“soobin,” his dad entered the room, voice cutting through the hush. “some of your guests are leaving. go downstairs to say goodbye.”

soobin shot up from the bed. “yeah, i’ll head down now.”

“y/n can i talk to you?” his dad asked. soobin looked back at you before leaving the room.

“yeah, what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong. i just wanted to talk to you about soobin.”

“what about soobin?”

“why don’t you sit down,” he suggested. you complied, perching on your boyfriend's bed. “i wanted to talk about soobin because well he’s going to college in the fall and i just want to make sure that he’s not wasting his experience or losing his focus.”

you weren’t sure how to respond. “i’m don’t know–”

“see y/n, you’re a great girl and you’ve been there for soobin for a long time, but you also distract him.”

“what?”

“i work really hard to make sure that my family can live in this neighborhood and so that my only son can go to a good school. i don’t want to see him waste his life over his high school girlfriend.”

your chest tightened, emotions surging. you wanted to speak up, to yell at him and tell him off for inserting himself into your relationship. you wanted to yell at him for even saying this to you when he couldn’t be bothered to show up for his only son’s high school graduation. you wanted to defend your love and your commitment to soobin. but as the tears welled up in your eyes, the words caught in your throat. all you could manage was a quiet, “okay.”

“i’m glad you understand. i know we both care about him and we both want the best for him.”

he exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your tears. the last words he spoke echoed in your mind. we both want what’s best for him.

you gathered enough composure and strength, wiping away your tears, and made your way downstairs. you attempted to slip away quietly, but soobin caught you at the door.

“you’re leaving?” the dim light from the porch illuminated his face, casting soft shadows across his features.

“yeah, it’s getting late.”

“are you okay?” he noticed the tremor in your voice.

“yeah, i’m just super tired.”

“oh, okay? what did my dad want to talk to you about?”

“oh, he just asked me to send him the videos and photos i took of you earlier.” the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you pushed it out regardless, hoping to shield soobin from the weight of his father’s words.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking hold of your hands. “do you want me to walk you home?”

“no, yeah, i’m fine.” you pull him into a hug for what felt like an eternity. if he noticed anything wrong with you after that, he didn’t bring it up. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

that night, you couldn’t fall asleep. the room seemed to close in around you suffocating in its emptiness. the echoes of the conversation with soobin’s father reverberated in your mind, haunting you.

you grappled with the weight of your fears and insecurities. what if he was right? what if you were holding soobin back? distracting him? the thought had always lingered at the back of your mind since you began dating. and now that he was actually starting at college, that unspoken fear threatened to consume you.

maybe his dad was right. you needed to give him the space that he needed to grow. and it’s not like you had to break up with him. you just needed to keep him at an arm’s length and this summer was a chance for you to learn how to do that with you working. so in the weeks that followed, you found yourself pulling away and creating that distance. the space between you stretched as you took more shifts at work and spent less time with your boyfriend.

“i might move into school a week early,” soobin told you one day when you were hanging out in your room.

you felt your heart sink.

you hadn’t spent that much time together and now you had even less time together. it felt like a cruel twist of fate. still, you masked your disappointment with forced encouragement. “that’s good.” you muttered. “get to know the area better.”

“you think i should go?”

“i mean, if you want to. it seems like a good idea.”

“okay,”

as the day arrived for soobin to leave for school, you felt a void open up within you. the weight of missed moments and unspoken words crushed your soul, suffocating in their intensity. you called out of work but stayed in bed all day, cocooned in the covers, crying about the fact that you couldn’t allow yourself to savor the little time you had with soobin.

when soobin facetimed you later that evening, your heart both leapt and sank at the sight of his face. “hey, let me see your face.”

“i look horrible,” you groaned, but still revealed your face that was covered by your blankets and pillows.

soobin’s brows furrowed when he saw your face with your eyes red and your nose puffy. “have you been crying?”

“no, i’m just sick.” you tried to hide it, to mask the pain, but the cracks in your facade were all too evident.

“please, y/n, don’t lie to me.”

the raw vulnerability in his voice cracked something open within you. “i just miss you and i wish I could have helped you move in.”

“maybe i can come home on the weekend after classes start?” you wanted to revel in the possibility of seeing him again so soon, however the question lingered heavy in the air.

“do you think i’m holding you back from getting the full college experience?”

“where did that come from?”

“what if there’s like… i don’t know, a really cool frat party that weekend? would you miss out on that for me?”

“i think i’d rather see my girlfriend than go to some hypothetical frat party.”

“i’m being serious.”

“do you not want me to come home?” his question hung in the air, like a delicate thread of vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with unspoken tension. your fingers tightened around the edges of your blanket, grasping for comfort and grounding, as you thought over your answer. every second of the silence felt like a weight on your shoulders.

you sighed. “i do, but–”

“then what’s the problem, y/n?” soobin’s voice, slightly raised, tinged with frustration, cut through the hush. “it seems like ever since the summer started you’ve been pushing me away, and i don’t know if i did something wrong.”

“you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“so what’s up?”

“i just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time focusing on your high school girlfriend when you have so much life ahead of you.”

“you’re not just my high school girlfriend.” his voice softened.

“that’s not what i meant.”

“you’re also my best friend. and i don’t ever feel like i’m wasting my time by being with you.”

you contemplate telling him what his dad said, but you ultimately decide against it.

“what are you thinking?” he asked after you didn't respond for a while.

“i don’t know.” you confessed, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“i need you to be honest with me because i don’t know what you need or how much more i can reassure you that you’re it for me.”

“maybe we should take a break?” the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“what?” soobin’s eyes widened, disbelief and hurt dancing in their depths.

“just maybe for the semester.” you rushed to explain, “so you can get your footing in school and i can focus on college apps.”

“so, you want to break up?”

“not like a real breakup. we’ll still talk and everything, just with some space.” he looked away, his jaw clenched, like he was processing the idea.

“i can’t believe you’re suggesting this.” his voice cracks as he blinks back the tears welling up in his eyes.

“maybe it’s what we need right now. we’ll still talk.” you promised, mostly trying to convince yourself.

the call ended and the weight of your decision settled on your chest, like a heavy ache that echoed the emptiness you felt inside. in your head, you were making the right choice for both of you, but that didn’t make it any easier. and as hard as you tried to maintain your relationship with soobin, over the next few months, the calls and messages became less frequent. the space between you was growing wider and each interaction held a bittersweet tinge, a mix of familiarity and the painful reminder of what once was.

the next break from school came quicker than you had expected. you sat at your desk, catching up on homework as the late morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. the creak of your bedroom door announced your dad’s presence.

“how are you doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

a faint smile danced on your lips as you turned to face him. “i’m not going to kill myself dad,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “i’m just doing homework.”

“you’ve been in your room all break. i think i’m allowed to be worried.”

you bristled, the walls rising around you like a fortress. “well you shouldn’t be, okay? i’m fine.”

“okay so you don’t care to know that i saw soobin’s car pull up into the driveway?” he asked. you let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, your gaze shifted to the patch of sunlight dancing on the floor.

“are you going to see him?” he gently suggested.

“i don’t know if he wants to see me,” you admitted, your voice a hesitant whisper. the weight of uncertainty settled around you, and your dad’s brow furrowed in empathy. he approached you to comfort you. “i think i messed up,” you confessed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

he paused to study your face, and then he spoke, his tone filled with reassurance. “i’m sure whatever you did isn’t that bad. who could ever not want to see you?”

a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, grateful for his attempt to ease your worries. “you’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”

he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “you know that’s not true. and you know he wants to see you because he cares for you, and he knows you care for him too.”

“and what if that’s not enough?”

his gaze softened, “then you shouldn’t base your worth on what some guys thinks of you.”

“some guy? i thought you liked soobin.”

“yeah, but i like you more.” he pulled you into a warm embrace, the strength of his love wrapping around you like a shield. as he left the room, a sense of comfort lingered in the air. you sat there, the moment stretching, the decision before you felt like a bridge to cross, but you chose to not let fear dictate your actions.

with a determined exhale, you reached for your phone.

to soob: hey, i saw you just got home. whenever you get a chance, can you come over? i think we need to talk.

later that night, in the quiet stillness of your room, you receive a knock on your door. your heart quickened. you leaped out of bed, ready to face whatever awaited for you on the other side of the door.

“hey,” you breathed, the door swinging open to reveal soobin.

“hi,”

“please come in,” you invited him in. you held the door open, allowing him to step into your sanctuary. “how have you been?”

“good,” he replied, though there was a subtle hesitance in his tone.

“really?”

he left out a soft chuckle, a nervous habit that betrayed the calm facade he tried to maintain. “well, no, but i thought it was the appropriate thing to say.” his hand moved to rub the back of his neck. “how are you?”

“been better,” you confessed.

he settled onto the edge of your bed, and you joined him.

“so you wanted to talk?”

“i’m sorry,” the words tumbled from your lips.

“for?”

“everything?” the raw honesty of the moment threatened to engulf you. “asking for a break, not talking to you. i messed everything up.”

“you didn’t mess anything up,” he countered.

“but look at where we are,” you murmured, your gaze falling to the floor, unable to bear the weight of the truth in his eyes.

“and where is that?”

“here.” you took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “i just want us to be good like before,” you said after a long pause.

soobin’s expression softened, “me too. i’ve missed you.”

“like crying and throwing up every night?” you teased.

“eh, something like that,” a hint of a smile played on his lips, the lamplight catching the warmth in his eyes.

“good to know,” you replied, a smile tugging at your own lips.

“i’ve said this before, but you’re really it for me.”

“is that so?”

“yeah, even though your dad was giving me a stank as i was coming upstairs.”

“he was?”

“yeah, and i thought your parents loved me.”

“they do!”

“that doesn’t sound convincing,” he joked, a genuine laugh filling the room, echoing off the walls.

“they do, they do.” you try to convince him. “they’re just really protective.”

“well, how can i get in their good graces again?”

“maybe by kissing me.” you suggest, teasingly.

“you think kissing their daughter is going to make them not hate me?”

“yeah, i think it might be a start.” you replied, your voice soft, but sure.

“okay.”

he cups your face, pulling you into a tender kiss. as your lips met his, a surge of warmth spread through you, grounding you in the present moment. your hands found their rightful place on the back of his neck, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair. in that fleeting, stolen breath of moment, the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving just the two of you suspended in this fragile, but powerful connection.

when you finally pulled away, the room took a breath with you. in that moment, everything felt right again. you were back to your version of normal, and it was perfect.

soobin sat cross legend on your bed waiting for you to bring up some snacks. it was the first weekend of your spring break and he decided to come down to surprise you. while waiting for you, his gaze fell upon a large envelope on your bedside table, its seal embossed with the emblem of the culinary school that you had told him about.

“okay, this is a new recipe that i’ve been working on.” you announce, walking into the room with a plate of cookies in your hand. “i want you to be honest with me. that being said, if you hate it, i’m going to cry.”

“why didn’t you tell me that you got in?” he asked as he inspected the envelope.

“because i’m not going.” you set the plate on your bed.

“why not?” concern was etched into the lines of his face.

“for starters,” your gaze drifted to the windows. “i got more money from other schools. besides, it’s on the other side of the country.”

“so?”

“so, that’s too far.”

“but you knew where it was when you applied,” he pressed. “and it’s your dream school.”

“that doesn’t matter, soobin.”

“well, why not?”

“because, you’re here.” you admitted.

“so, you’re staying for me?”

“you don’t want me to?”

“no,”

“oh,”

“y/n,” he leaned forward, reaching out to touch your hand. “i don’t want you to give up on your dreams because of me.” his thumb was tracing patterns on your hand. “why is it so easy for you to understand when it comes to me but not when it comes to you?”

“i’m not giving up on my dreams,” you argued, your eyes meeting the boy on your bed with determination. “i just want to be with you right now.”

his fingers tightened around yours, trying to grasp the gravity of your decision. “we can still be together.”

“with 2000 miles between us?” you questioned. “we could barely handle a hundred. we’re finally good again. i don’t want to go to school across the country and have that change.”

“nothing’s going to change.”

“you don’t know that.”

“you’re right, i don’t know that.” he began, “but i do know that we literally broke up six months ago, and now i’m sitting on your bed again.”

“it wasn’t a break up; it was a break,” you interjected, a small smile playing on your lips.

“okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “but my point still stands. we’ve been through a lot and we always end up right beside each other.”

you get your laptop from your desk and log into the admissions portal. “are you going to accept it now?”

“no time like the present.”

five months later, you found yourself getting in a taxi to your dorm with your parents by your side. they insisted on driving you there, but you managed to convince them that a cross country road trip would cause more harm than good to your familial relationship.

as you settled into the backseat of the cab, the familiar scent of your mother’s perfume enveloped you. the engine hummed softly beneath you, and the rhythmic sound of tires on pavement created a comforting backdrop.

your mother’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and a touch of sadness. she reached over and gently squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “are you excited, honey?” she asked.

your father, who sat in the front seat, spent the entire ride bombarding you with questions about pepper spray.

you managed to drown out your parents, looking out the window, watching the cityscape evolve as you approached your dorm. the towering skyscrapers seemed to reach for the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling streets. you felt a knot of nervous energy settle in your stomach.

at your dorm, your parents helped you carry your bags up to your room. the air tingled with the scent of freshly painted walls and the promise of new beginnings. your room was a blank canvas, waiting for you to imprint it with your personality.

as you unpacked, your mother offered suggestions for organizing your belongings, and your father, more practically, made a list of all the necessities you needed to get like extra blankets and a first aid kit.

yuna, whose school went back in session a few days earlier, texted you inviting you to hang out with her and her roommate. you walked your parents back to their hotel, eating takeout from a nearby chinese restaurant in their room.

as the meal came to an end, there was a bittersweet air, as you gathered your things and left their room. you met yuna in a park downtown, sitting with her roommate. you ran towards her, the anticipation and joy bubbling over. she enveloped you in a tight hug. “i’m so glad you’re finally here.”

as you walked through the park, the conversation flowed effortlessly. you felt a sense of peace settle over you. it was like the first taste of the home you were building for yourself in this new, unfamiliar place.

you arrived back at your dorm alone. your room greeted you with a sense of familiarity. your side was a collage of memories and personal touches – framed photos, trinkets from home, and the soft glow of fairy lights casting a warm, golden hue.

you sat on your bed, looking out the window, the skyscrapers now standing in line with you. the city’s pulsed thrummed faintly in the distance. gone were the nerves that accompanied you earlier. in their place, a newfound sense of determination settled within you. you knew you had to do what you needed to make this place your own. it was the beginning of a new chapter, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

and luckily for you, this new chapter did not come at the detriment of your relationship at first. for the first two months of the semester, you and soobin were still talking everyday and about everything – your classes, the new recipes you were working on, how one of your professors worked at one of the most famous restaurants in the world, and about your friends, how much yuna’s presence helped you settle in, how your roommate neither leaves the room nor says a word to you.

for the first time in this relationship, you could almost say that everything was fine.

but as time went on, you felt yourselves shifting into your old patterns of not talking to each other. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that soobin had lied. it seemed like everything was changing. or maybe he was right. maybe this was how it always was. there were never enough hours in the day for you guys to be together and you were coming to find that had always been a pattern throughout your relationship. it was just like eighth grade, or the summer before he left for college, or his first semester of college. the story was almost exactly the same – first it was missing texts because of conflicting class times and time zones. but then hours became days which became weeks and before you knew it, winter break was knocking on your door.

this was the first time you would see soobin in four months and the only thing that you wanted to do was melt into his arms. the familiar sights of your childhood neighborhood rushed past as your dad drove you home from the airport. every turn brought you closer to that one house on the street, the house that held so many memories, and now, the promise of reconnection.

as the car pulled into your driveway, you couldn’t contain your excitement. leaping out, you dashed inside your house, tossing your bags onto your bedroom floor with reckless abandon.

his mother greeted you at the door. “y/n, honey, you’re back!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

growing up, you never spent much time outside of soobin’s bedroom in his home. his father’s relentless work schedule and his mother’s hesitancy to host guests left the rest of the house shrouded in a quiet unfamiliarity. as you walked through the hallways, you thought about how cold and gray the house looked the summer they moved in. it wasn’t much different now.

a deep breath steadied you as you approached soobin’s closed door.

some things didn’t change. the butterflies that swarmed around in your stomach were a constant companion that signaled you were exactly where you needed to be. but then you thought about how lonely you were without him this semester and you decided that maybe everything changing was for the best.

“y/n, you’re home?” his face betrayed him showing confusion. he never had the best poker face.

“yeah,” you affirmed softly, pushing open the door. there, before you, sat a girl at his desk.

or not.

“uh, this is my friend from school, arin. she couldn’t get a flight home for winter break, so she’s staying here.” soobin explained.

“oh,” you responded with a mix of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

arin extended her hand to you. “hi, it’s so nice to meet you. you must be soobin’s neighbor.”

“and his girlfriend,” you added, declaring your place in the room.

awkward tension hung in the air, a palpable shift in dynamics. as the evening unfolded, you settled into a corner of the room, watching the two converse. your gaze shifted between them, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. you marveled at the ease with which they fell into conversation, recounting stories, laughing. a truly unsettling sight. a pang of envy tugged at your heart.

as the night wore on, their voices became a distant hum to you. you felt like a silent observer, a piece of scenery, fading into the background. you did not plan on watching your boyfriend giggle at someone else’s stories for three hours. you longed for his attention, but that seemed like an impossible request.

soobin, engrossed in his conversation, was too oblivious to your discomfort. it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but rather he was just caught up.

you watched them with a mixture of longing and resignation, trying to convince yourself that this was just a temporary moment of disconnect and that soobin would turn his attention back to you soon. but with each passing minute, that hope waned.

gathering resolve, you got up. “i think i’m going to head home.” you announced.

soobin and arin turned their attention to you, momentarily pulling away from their conversation.

“are you sure?” soobin asked you.

you nodded. “yeah, it’s been a long day. i’ll see you later, soobin. it was nice to meet you, arin.” you turned back to your boyfriend, waiting for his response.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offered.

leaving the room, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back at arin, who was now engrossed in something on her phone. the ache in your chest grew.

the two of you stood in front of your house, the chill of the evening air settling around you. the soft glow from the porch light illuminated the path that led to your front door.

“so, she’s staying the entirety of winter break?” you asked.

“yup,” soobin replied, his words punctuated by a casual pop of the ‘p’. “is there something wrong?”

you hesitated for a moment. “no,” you finally shook your head, a small, rueful smile gracing your lips. “i just wanted to spend time with you alone.”

“we can still spend time together,” he assured. “i feel like you two would get along. she’s a lot like you.”

the reassurance didn’t offer the comfort you sought. instead, it settled uneasily in your stomach. you offered a distracted response, your gaze drifting from the quiet street to your front door.

“yeah, maybe.”

“are you okay?” soobin asked, pulling you back to the present moment.

you forced a smile, masking the swirl of conflicting emotions beneath the surface. “yeah, just tired.”

“okay, goodnight, i’ll see you tomorrow.” he said, leaning down to kiss you. the touch of his lips felt foreign, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit quite right. it was an odd sensation, leaving you with a lingering sense of disconnection. like you were slipping away from each other. you didn’t want to think too much about it, but deep down you knew that no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, it would be no use.

“goodnight,” you whispered, stepping back and slipping into the warmth of your house.

the days that followed were a dance of awkwardness and unspoken tension. you yearned for soobin’s attention, for the familiar touch of his hand, but it just seemed so out of reach.

one chilly afternoon, you all gathered at a small diner on the corner of town. the warm scent of comfort food wrapped around you as you settled into the vinyl booth opposite arin. your boyfriend trailed behind you, hesitating for a moment before sliding into the booth beside you, a subtle shift that did not go unnoticed. it was a tiny pang, but it was there.

you smiled and tried to shake off the unease, focusing on the menu in front of you. as you chatted about school and plans for the break, you couldn’t help but notice soobin’s gaze flickering between the two of you. it was as if he was trying to find balance in a delicate equation.

another time, the three of you planned to visit the ice skating rink. when you arrived at soobin’s house, you were met with the unfamiliar sight of arin in the front seat of the car. you hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to sit. the glance you exchanged with arin held a silent question, but before you could say anything, soobin assured you it wasn’t a big deal.

as the car pulled away, the hum of their conversation and the pulse of the music filled the space, leaving you feeling like a distant observer.

you invited soobin over for a movie night, so imagine your surprise when you opened your front door to see both of them. you smiled dropped as you welcomed them into your house. this was supposed to bring back a flicker of normalcy. you were supposed to nestle into your boyfriend’s side. but even as the movie played, there was a subtle shift in the air. every moment spent with arin was a reminder of the growing distance, like a river slowly widening between you and the person you held closest.

then came that one precious weekend, a rare convergence of circumstances. both of you found your parents out of town at the same time. you invited soobin over and unfortunately, arin was working on a project for school so she couldn’t join. you had to stifle a surge of joy that threatened to bubble over.

“i’m so happy that we’re finally spending time together,” you exclaimed, gently closing your bedroom door behind you. soobin sat on your bed, with your computer resting on his lap. “alone.” you emphasized, a smile playing on your lips.

with purposeful steps, you crossed the room. you carefully lifted the laptop from his lap, placing it on your bedside table. then, with a graceful movement, you straddled his lap, feeling the warmth and familiarity of his presence beneath you.

“i really missed you,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his. leaning in, you captured his lips in a tender kiss.

the room pulsed with newfound energy as the kiss deepened. soobin’s touch was gentle as his hands found their place on the small of your back, holding you close, grounding you in the moment.

as passion ignited between you, a fire that had been smoldering for far too long, you hands moved with purpose, fingers deftly working to remove the barrier that separated you from him.

but then, he pulled away, his breaths coming in measured, uneven intervals. “w-what are you doing?”

“i’m ready,” you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper. the air crackled with tension, every beat of your heart echoing in the silence that followed.

he sat up straighter, his gaze locked with yours. “are you sure?”

“yes, soobin, i’m sure,” you asserted, mustering more confidence. “i want this.”

he took a moment, his breath steadying, before he spoke. “alright,” he said softly.

he gently guided you back onto the bed. “it might be more comfortable if i’m on top,” he suggested. he removed his shirt, casually tossing it to a corner of your room. “please tell me if you want me to stop.”

you nodded in understanding.

“i’m serious, y/n. i need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

“okay, i will.”

your heart raced as you laid there, your senses heightened. nervous energy tingled through your veins as his hands caressed your sides. his fingers traced the curves of your hips and thighs slowly. every inch of your body lit with flames as he touched you ever so lightly.

slowly, you mirrored his movements, your hands reached for the hem of your t-shirt. with a deep breath, you took off the old t-shirt to match him, laying eagerly in your pretty pink bra.

he stopped to look at you. “wow.” he breathed out. a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, and you instinctively buried your face in your hands. he pulled your hands down. “don’t hide your face from me, baby.” he murmured with tender eyes. “you’re just so pretty.”

you pulled him down to kiss him. “i need you,” you moaned into the kiss.

soobin’s mouth never left your body as he fumbled with his pants. he licked and sucked on your neck, taking his time with his gray sweatpants. soft moans and sighs kept slipping from your lips as he marked your skin.

“wait,” he stopped. “do you have a condom?”

“top drawer,” you breathed out.

soobin reached into the drawer by the bed, his fingers deftly finding the box nestled amidst an array of trinkets.

“open up for me.” you did as he said, and spread your legs a little wider. he could tell you were nervous as he pulled down your shorts. “do you trust me?” he asked, to which you nodded. “it might hurt for a second, but i promise you, it will only be a tiny amount of pain.” you wrapped your legs around his waist and he slowly rocked his hips against you.

you felt him position his hips so that they were perfectly in line with yours, his tip edging your entrance. he began to work his way into you inch by inch, before steadily pushing in until you were filled with his entire length. he threw his head back in pleasure as he bottomed out in you. your hands still on the back of his neck, you nudged him closer to you. “i know it hurts, baby. i’m sorry. just tell me what you need.”

the pain and discomfort was quickly replaced with pleasure. you gasped quietly, and soobin took it as a sign to finally begin moving. he fell into a rhythm of deep slow thrusts just sent you spiraling. he leaned his face down to your neck for a moment, pressing kisses along your flesh and nipping at your shoulder.

“f-fuck, you feel so good.”

he raised his face again, your noses inches apart. your face was contorted in pleasure and he couldn’t help but groan, thrusting into your harder.

“soobin?” you moaned out.

“yeah, baby? i’m right here.”

“i love you.”

he leaned back down to kiss you, his lips trailing down your jawline to your neck.

every kiss, every thrust progressively getting faster was sending you over the edge, making you pant and moan underneath him. the sounds coming from you were making his head spin and he could feel himself getting closer to his orgasm.

he was hitting you in the right spot, causing a knot to form in your lower stomach as you approached your breaking point. the knot in your stomach tightened and snapped. your walls spasmed and clenched around him as you released all over his cock. your body was shaking from the intensity, as you cried his name out. fueling his organs. his hips stuttered and he joined you in climax.

his movements ceased to slow rolls of his hips before eventually stopping.

soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space and filled the room around you. you stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath. he then carefully pulled out. he held your body close to his chest, his eyes softening as he looked down at your exhausted face.

you nuzzled your head into soobin’s neck, kissing along his jawline. “that was so good.” you said between kisses. soobin responded with a contented hum, his fingers gently rubbing against your arm. the soft rustle of the sheets provided a soothing backdrop to the intimacy you had just shared, cocooning you in a bubble of fleeting bliss

but as the minutes passed, a subtle shift began to settle between you, like a distant tremor foreshadowing an impending quake. soobin’s touch, once tender and reassuring, began to falter. his breath, once steady and calming, now held an undertone of uncertainty.

“i should probably go back home,” soobin said, his arm slowly retreating from around your shoulder. “arin is alone.”

“seriously?” you turned to face him, a mixture of confusion and anger plastered on your face.

“what? she’s a guest.”

“you’re leaving?” you hold onto his arm, desperate to keep him close. “i thought you were going to spend the night.”

“i can’t leave her alone.”

“soobin, i just lost my virginity to you…” your voice trailed off, tears forming in your eyes. your hands dropped to your lap. the room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence.

“y/n–” you could feel your blood boiling.

“don’t.” you shifted away from him on the bed. “i just lost my virginity to you and you want to spend the night with some other girl.”

“i’m not spending the night with her.”

“what’s so special about her?”

“what?”

“why have you chosen to spend every moment of this break with her instead of me?”

“we spend time together.”

“yeah, with her always there.”

the room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your words settling into the air.

“she’s my friend and i care about her.”

“you care about her?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, every word laced with a pain that cut through the silence.

“yes i do. she couldn’t go home for winter break. I just want to make sure she doesn’t feel alone.”

“well what about me?”

“y/n, come on.”

“i told you i loved you.”

“y/n, i–” you could almost hear your heart break. he couldn’t even say it back to you.

you quickly sobered up, your walls rising like a fortress around you. “i think you should leave.”

“hey,” he reached out to hold you, but you swatted his hand away, the touch too little, too late. his fingers hung in the air for a moment before dropping, defeated.

“no. i don’t want you here anymore. you should go home.”

soobin stood up and got dressed. his movements were deliberate and slow as he gathered his scattered clothes. he dressed in silence, every gesture laden with a sense of finality. as he stood by the door, fully dressed, soobin turned to look at you. his eyes held a mixture of regret and longing, a silent plea for understanding that hung in the space between you. you met his gaze, your heart aching with a complex blend of emotions – love, betrayal, and a yearning for something that now felt impossibly distant.

the door creaked open and closed softly, the sound echoing in the hollow space left behind.

putting on a robe, you sat by your window, watching him go into his house, praying, hoping that he would turn around, see you sitting by your window, come back to you. but he just walked into his house, the door closing with a finality that sent a shiver down your spine. your room felt emptier than ever before.

you laid in your bed and let the tears fall freely, each drop a painful release. the weight of reality settled on your chest. a heavy ache seeped into your bones.

the days that followed felt like a slow-motion train wreck. it was as if the color had drained from the world, leaving only shades of gray. every passing moment that you didn’t hear from soobin was a jagged piece of glass, cutting into your soul. each night seemed longer than the last, filled with the silent echo of his absence.

you didn’t even know what hurt more — the raw vulnerability of giving him everything, only to have him leave, or the deafening silence that followed. the unanswered questions swirled like a storm in your mind. why hadn’t he reached out? was he feeling the same heartache that clung to your every breath?

his parents even visited for dinner and you had to paint a smile on your face throughout to hide the storm that raged within. when his mom inquired about your absence, you concocted a tale, your voice steady even though your heart felt like it might shatter.

other than your parents, the only person you spoke to was yuna, who became your lifeline even though she was on vacation with her parents. she was a voice of reason and a source of much-needed laughter. “honestly, fuck him. and fuck her too,” she declared.

“she didn’t even do anything,” you murmured in arin’s defense.

“who the fuck sits in the front seat of someone else’s boyfriend’s car?” yuna fired back, making you chuckle.

"i wish you were here. it's so miserable. i can't even leave my house because i'm scared i'm going to see him," you confessed, your voice a whisper edged with pain.

"if i was there, he'd probably have to file a restraining order against me."

returning to campus was like stepping onto a battlefield, but yuna was determined to wage war against the memories that threatened to engulf you and make you forget about a certain dark haired boy whose name you were no longer allowed to say. “you know what they say: in order to get over someone, you need to get under someone else.” she proclaimed from your closet, picking out something for you to wear tonight.

“i don’t know if i’m ready to get under someone else,” you admitted, fixing your mascara in your bathroom mirror, dressed in your robe.

“doesn’t matter if you actually do. you just need to get your mind off of him.” she hands you a black dress. “wear this. it always looks good on you.”

and so, you allowed yourself to be swept up in a night of bar hopping. the pulsing music and laughter washed over you like a healing balm. for a few precious hours, you were just another college student, drowning your sorrows in neon lights and thumping bass.

between the nights out, you threw yourself completely into your studies, the pursuit of a summer internship becoming your north star. you came to school to do something, and you weren’t going to let your heartache consume you.

spring was always a happy time for you. the air was warm, carrying with it the promise of renewal. it had been months since you had thought about soobin, and even longer since you had seen him. for the first time since that unfortunate night, you felt like you were completely over him. or at least getting there.

as you strolled back to your dorm from class, the world hummed with a quiet energy. the sun hung low in the sky and the air was soft and warm against your skin. but then you saw a familiar silhouette leaning against your dorm building. time seemed to stretch in that moment, the world around you fading into a blur. your heart quickened its pace, a staccato beat echoing in your chest.

"y/n," he breathed, his voice a soft plea that hung in the air. his presence was a sudden gust of wind, stirring the carefully constructed walls around your heart.

your guard was up, a fortress of steel around your heart. you wouldn't let him waltz back into your life just to tear you apart again. "what are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"i wanted to talk to you."

"how did you find my address?"

"your mom gave it to my mom, who gave it to me."

you let him into your building, signing him in with the security guards in the front. the familiar surroundings now felt foreign with him there. in the confines of your dorm room, he looked around, his gaze grazing over the familiar details that now seemed foreign.

“you said you wanted to talk. so talk.” you said to him sitting down. you were so grateful that your roommate had gone to class. you really didn’t need her to be in the room with you now.

he glanced around, his face marked with uncertainty. “i don’t know where to start.”

you met his gaze without a word.

“i guess… i could start with sorry.” he offered with a nervous chuckle.

“i think that’s too little, too late, soobin.” you asserted, matter of factly.

“i miss you.”

“you can’t keep saying that.” your shoulders sunk. looking at him now, you could feel all the emotions bubbling back up — the anger, the hurt, the tears, they were all coming back to you.

“i know, but it’s true.” he rushed to add. “that’s why i came here. i wanted to see you. i know we didn’t leave things the right way.”

“soobin, you were the first person i ever had sex with and you left me right after.” you tried to keep your cool and maintain your composure, but it was getting increasingly harder.

“i-i know. i’m sorry,” he stammered, remorse filling his eyes.

“is that all you came here to say? sorry?” he looked at you apologetically, offering no further words. “you hurt me so much and you couldn’t even say anything to me afterwards. i waited every day for months to see if you would ever call me and you didn’t. it was like i meant nothing to you. it was just so easy for you to forget that i existed.” as the words flowed, you felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness wash over you. the wounds were still fresh, but there was a catharsis in finally addressing the unspoken.

“i’m s—” he stopped himself. “i know i hurt you. i don’t know what i can do to make it right.”

“i don’t think there’s anything you can do to make it right.” you said, wiping the slow tears from your face. you sat up, meeting his gaze squarely. “i spent our entire relationship fighting for you to pay attention to me. i can’t do that anymore. i don’t want to beg someone to care about me.”

“i care about you. you know that.”

“do i?”

“i didn’t think this conversation would go like this if i’m being completely honest.”

“i’m not angry at you anymore. at least i’m trying not to be.” you tell him. “and i don’t hate you, if you thought i did. i don’t think i could ever hate you.”

“i don’t think i can’t not have you in my life.”

“i’m still your neighbor.” you joked.

“it’s not the same.” he admitted quietly, sitting beside you. “y/n, i love you.”

“soobin–” you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign that he understood the depth of your pain.

“i know, it’s too late. i just wanted you to know.” his gaze fixed on his hands, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his jeans. “i can’t erase the past. but i want to try to make amends, to find a way back to some semblance of… of friendship, maybe.”

friendship. the word hung in the air, a fragile bridge between your shared history and the uncertain future.

“i don’t know if we can be friends. not right now, at least. maybe not ever.”

he looked up, pain etched in the frown lines across his face. “i understand,” he murmured, voice heavy with regret.

silence enveloped, broken only by the distant sounds of life outside. after what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke, your voice softer now. “i think i need time. to you know, figure out my shit.”

he nodded. “i want you to know that i’m sorry. truly.”

“i know.”

with a heavy heart, you walked him to the door. as he left, you closed the door behind him, leaning against it for support. alone in the quiet of your dorm, you let the tears come. finally you had a release of all the emotions long held in check. you had tried your hardest to bury them, but now it was time for them to finally come out. the pain was still there, but with each tear that fell, you felt a small measure of healing begin.

in the days that followed, you took each moment as it came, allowing yourself to grieve for what was lost and to slowly rediscover the strength within you. spring continued to dance outside, and you vowed to find your own renewal.

taglist: @boba-beom @dearlyjun @atinyniki @makoto @bunnie-hq @wiisoob @isabellah29 @pluviophile-xxx

fill out this form to join my taglist!

#fay's works #txt angst #txt fluff #choi soobin #soobin fluff #soobin angst #soobin x reader #soobin #choi soobin fluff #choi soobin angst #soobin smut #choi soobin smut #txt smut

411 notes · View notes

tumblingxelian · 1 year

Text

Yang & Ruby's Childhood

Oh how I wish, I wish that people would stop ignoring canon and pretending Yang & Ruby had functional adults who were good parents in their lives after Summer died.

Because the fact of the matter is that they did not and canon has spelled this out again and again for the audience with increasing clarity every single time.

In Volume 2, Yang overtly states that Tai shut down following Summer’s to the point where his neglect became so pronounced a 5 and 3 year old who were grieving were left alone for hours and could disappear into a Grimm inhabited island looking for a different parental figure.

Its re-established again in volume Five when Yang spells out to Weiss in no uncertain terms that after Summer disappeared, Yang, a five year old, was the one who needed to keep the family together and the trauma this inflicted on her alone is obvious. Let alone Ruby, because she was both being neglected and being raised by someone only two years her senior. Something Ruby fully acknowledges was the cast.

There’s a multitude of other things I feel Tai has done wrong as both a teacher and a parent, but these one’s are undeniable, openly stated facets of the household.

And Qrow doesn’t get an out by being the uncle either, oh no.

Ruby makes it expressly clearly despite how much she loves and admires her Uncle she is very much used to him dropping back into her life shit faced drunk and being carted home by a stranger and needing to be taken care of.

Again, by children!

He has his reasons and his problems, but amazingly that doesn’t stop this from being a shitty way to grow up. No matter how much Tai & Qrow might love these two, they were not ‘great parents’, I wouldn’t even call them good.

These two adults were negligent and damaging to the children under their care despite how much they may have loved them, and the fact that is ignored really burns me up inside.

#RWBY #RWBY9 #Ruby Rose #Yang Xiao Long #Parentification #People clowning on this post will be blocked #I am not here to debate how much of a chad you think Tai is #Or how much of a sad meow meow you think Qrow is #They failed these kids and they had to raise themselves #Tai Yang Xiao Long & Qrow Branwen #This is canon

2K notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 1 year

Note

Can you do 58 with Megumi but make it something like enemies to lovers 😊 love your writing so so much

58: Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/On The Bed

**aged up characters!!** ___

megumi didn't think he was capable of despising someone this much. you got under his skin and you knew it. you'd settle in there, nestling- twisting- clawing- seemingly making yourself at home. and it didn't matter if he ignored you or if he'd snap at you with quick, bitter insults, you were an irremovable thorn in his side.

when he first met you, megumi was indifferent. you were a decent enough sorcerer that you handled your own so he wasn't thrown into training with you like gojo had him do with yuuji, and honestly, you were closer with nobara anyways, so you spent most of your time hanigng out with her.

but god, if megumi could take back that first mission he'd been sent on with you, he would. he'd get on his knees and beg that man-child of a teacher not to send him with you.

because as it turns out, he hated being assigned on exorcisms with you. you had a powerful cursed technique and you were quite confident in using it. too confident.

you were reckless.

it seemed no matter the threat you were throwing yourself on the front line, your weapon of choice imbued with the blue energy or your cursed energy, your excitement and blood lust evident. you took almost a twisted joy in exorcizing curses. megumi thinks this is the reason you were always running into the threat of a curse head first, refusing to strategize with him, and refusing to look at the big picture.

this meant that more often than not, you found yourself in the infirmary after your assignments. you always had scrapes and bruises, occasionally broken bones or concussions, too. he couldn't believe that you were so negligent, time and time again. it was like you didn't even care about getting hurt, it was like you almost enjoyed it.

the last time megumi had been partnered up for an assignment, he'd had to carry your unconscious body to shoko himself. after brazenly climbing a rather large second-grade curse, hooking your blades into it's scaly back as if you were rock climbing, you'd exorcized it with a strong swing to it's neck, sending it's head plummeting to the ground- just a few feet in front of megumi, mind you, so he'd been covered in blood so putrid he'd almost thrown up.

in your victorious pride you'd failed to realize that decapitating the beast at your height was a foolish choice, as now you were falling to the ground with a crack! that had a chill going down megumi's spine with fright. when you didn't get up right away, he'd had the manager of this assignment on the phone before he even reached you.

it makes his blood boil just thinking about it now. you'd sprained your wrist from awkwardly trying to brace yourself too late, and you'd hit your head against the pavement, hard. when megumi had lifted you, the blood had already made your hair wet and sticky, and it pooled into his hand at a speed that megumi was sure meant death was imminent. honestly he couldn't believe you'd gotten to shoko in time.

you'd been out for six days. and when you awoke, he'd screamed your ear off about how ridiculous your actions were, how if he could help it he'd never partner with you again. you were conscious for it, still fighting off a splitting headache, but you'd heard every word and you knew he meant it. you'd barely said anything, just let him rant and pace around your cot until he got it all out of his system. however, before he left, you tiredly called him a coward before you drifted back to sleep.

despite your mutual distaste in working together, you'd only been put on a small break from being partnered up- and that was mostly due to your healing period. the last month and a half of megumi working alone, or with yuuji and nobara, was only a vacation of not working with you because gojo made sure to throw a few easier assignments your way while your arm healed and the stitches at the bottom of your skull and into the nape of your neck had begun to properly scar.

once you'd regained full mobility and strength, it was only a matter of time before you were thrown into an assignment with megumi again.

because the truth of the matter, was that you worked perfectly together.

even with you swinging your weapons with abandon, megumi seemed to be able to read your every move before you made it. he chalked that up to simply knowing how to match his partner's fighting style, but gojo always insisted the pair of you shared a synergy like no other.

megumi thinks gojo just liked throwing fancy business words around to confuse people, and maybe that worked with the others, but he always rolled his eyes at that word.

because to him anyone could have synergy if they fought alongside each other for long enough- at least this is what megumi convinced himself of.

he'd never really thought twice about how with one look, you were able to switch off fighting styles- sometimes this even meant throwing your weapons towards one another- and you would take defense while he took offense- etc. he'd never really thought about how even though it felt like he had to keep an eye on you, your exorcism-driven rage meant you were always ready for an attack, and that made you more than capable of watching his back too.

and he especially hadn't noticed how his shikigami seemed to have his same ability of predicting your next move, too.

even if he conjured nue for a surprise attack from the sky, if you happened to be in trouble, the owl-like shikigami was swooping to your aid. if your weapon was knocked out of your grasp, his divine dog was leaping in to cover you with snapping fangs. if he summoned the toads, one always seemed to flutter up to your shoulder to watch your back. and god forbid he went for rabbit escape- damn things loved to swarm you with fluff and nuzzles.

and tonight's assignment was no different. except that you've been sent overseas. and except that maybe that it's the first time he does notice his shikigami's parter

his divine dog is darting out of his sight suddenly, and megumi notices instantly this time, seeing as he'd just commanded it to go after this curse's throat, and instead it's running in your direction.

bewildered, megumi whirls around, watching as it barks and howls as it runs to you.

you, who's laying on the ground.

when did that happen? fuck! what happened? fuck! were you conscious? fuck! had you been there long? fuck!

his mind is operating at a million thoughts in a minute, before he snaps into reality and strategizes what the plan would be now that you're out of the equation and this grade one curse is still trying to tear him in half.

and while he lunges towards it with his blade aimed for the throat, he find he can't help but keep you in his peripheral vision.

his divine dog is standing over you protectively, snout nudging at your shoulder, but you don't move. your arm falls lifelessly to the ground.

as he approaches the curse he sees there already is a deep gash on it's throat, certainly an effort made by you before you'd been struck down. and despite the heavy rage and concern you'd shoved onto his shoulders as soon as he'd seen you rlimp body on the ground- again- megumi's face morphs into a twisted grin.

because you'd just made this all the easier.

it only takes on swing for him to slice through the rest of the way, his blade tearing through muscle and tissue, taking it's head clean off. a signature move of yours, that for a moment, megumi understood why you enjoyed it so much. because it felt fucking amazing.

the moment he relishes in is short lived, and once the curse is taken care of he's racing over to you and his shikigami.

there's no pool of blood this time, is the first thing he notes, which is a little bit of a relief, he supposes.

what does concern him is the fact that his shikigami is whimpering, nose pushing against the back of your head, before moving to lay by your side, laying it's head on the ground as it watches you carefully, protectively.

megumi doesn't know where this action comes from. while his shikigami did hold a certain for him, as their conjurer, but he'd never seen this.

"it's alright, don't worry," he mumbles setting his hand in the space between the dog's ears. before sending it back to it's domain.

he kneels quickly in front of you, carefully grabbing you by your shoulders to move you onto your back and check for your injuries. to his surprise, you let out a groan and are able to twist yourself just enough to flip off of you stomach.

"what happened?" megumi's quick to question you once he realizes you're at least a little conscious.

"i'm fine" you say, but your face is contorted into a wince and there's a groan erupting from your chest.

"can you even sit up?" megumi scowls at you, but you don't see. you're hissing and arching your back to keep it off the ground, and megumi realizes he's going to have to get you out of here- again.

he's not afraid to tell you the whole way back to the hotel you're staying at too. it's a bit of a hassle to half-carry you into the building without alerting staff or other patrons, but still, he's muttering reckless and idiot and stupid like a mantra.

when you get to the conjoined rooms you protest, but megumi's still muttering as he drags you into his side of the room.

"we gotta get you patched up. unless you want to bleed out in your sleep?"

"i can do it myself" you shove him off you, making him scoff as he grabs the medical kit out of his bag.

"knew i would need this," he's still muttering, pointing for you to sit on the end of the bed. "just cause of you of course"

"i told you i can do it myself" you snap back at him, and megumi's not sure why this is the last straw for him but he's tearing open a gauze patch with more furosity than he'd shown exorcizing the curse earlier.

"you clearly fucking can't!" he also doesn't mean to yell, but he get's wrapped up in his irritation and he gets carried away rather quickly. "i mean- you were barely out there for ten minutes, i look over, and you very well could have been dead!"

"you'd like that wouldn't you?" you grumble unde your breath, snatching the guaze pad out of his hand and rolling your shirt up to inspect the slash at your hip. lucky for you, it wasn't deep, but it was a long swipe of claws, so it was a nasty looking thing.

"is that what you think?" megumi snaps, and he's reaching out to get the bandage back out of your hand. "you think i want my partner dead?"

"you sure like to complain about everything i do, so, yeah, megumi, you've made it abundantly clear that you'd have a easier time if i wasn't there!"

megumi huffs at the accusation, beyond pissed with you now. were you really so dense to think such a thing?

and yet while he bandages up your would, his every touch is gentle, and he even mumbles an apology when you hiss at just the wrong amount of pressure in the wrong spot.

"you can't seriously be upset with me," he scoffs. "just cause i'm sick of this always happening"

"what are you talking about?" you furrow your brows as you push your shirt back over the bandage, your hands balling into fists as you stand from the bed.

"i'm talking about you always getting yourself hurt!"

megumi's eyes are wide and his brows are furrowed as he gives you that look. the one that tells you he thinks you're an idiot. something he's good at doing, even without words.

"i swear, i don't know why they pair me up with you. i don't know what gojo sees that i'm missing, but clearly he's as delusional as ever. you shouldn't even be on the field!"

that had your patience snapping (and your heart breaking)

"i shouldn't be on the field?" you scoff back at him, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. "do you even like protecting people?"

"what the hell does that have to do with anyting? of course i do!"

"well it's hard to tell! you're so goddamn stoic all the time, sometimes i can't tell the difference between you and- and-"

"and what?"

you bite your tongue, trying not to say something you can't take back, but megumi's glowering at you and you're so mad just looking at his stupid face that you let it out.

"and the curse" your words are low, but they're just as sharp as when you were yelling back at him.

megumi scoffs. he rolls his eyes.

you don't think he's ever taken you seriously.

"you're so ridiculous. i swear to god- i've dealt with your recklessness for the last time. i won't be pairing up with you for another assignment again. i'm done"

"oh please," you let out a bitter laugh, a snicker that hits his ears and buries deep into his skin. nestling, twisting, clawing. "as if i'd ever choose to partner with you!" you're yelling again, and it makes your head hurt, but you don't care. because he hurt you first. and you're not retreating to your own room before returning the favor. "i only agree to it because gojo knows and i know that it's worth it. even if i have to put up with all your snide comments and- and just rude behavior! you're a child, you know that?"

"i'm the child!?" he's darting in front of you now, before you have the chance to make a break for the door. you have half the mind to push him, to shove him hard and storm out of the room.

hell, if you called ijichi now, you might even have him book your the first flight back to tokyo.

but you stand in place and scowl at him, because you can't have him thinking you're running away from him.

"you run into every assignment without looking both ways!" megumi throws his arms out, and you can see his hands are shaking. "you get yourself injured, every, single, time, (y/n), and it's exhausting"

"exhausting?" you repeat with a scoff.

"yeah," megumi narrows his eyes at you. "exhausting"

"oh, i'm sorry," your lips curl into a gruesome smile, a threatening snarl, held by an irritation only he could bring out of you. "i didn't realize that my coma was so hard on you! were you tired megumi? hm? that was exhausting for you?"

he's fuming. you can see his teeth gritting together, his nostrils are flaring, and you've never seen so much emotion in his eyes- much less this much disgust. you've thoroughly pissed him off, and you know you should be giving him faux apologies and pleasantries because he's your equal, your ally, your partner, but you can't help but feel pride blossom in your chest, knowing you've bothered him this much.

"yeah, it was!" he yells back in your face. "can't you wrap your fragile mind around the idea that maybe it was hard on me to think you'd died!?"

you blink, your expression falling from it's sick pride, replaced quickly by confusion.

"when you're my partner, and i'm supposed to make sure you're alright, it's infuriating to turn around and not know if you're even fucking breathing!"

megumi's still yelling, but your ears are no longer pounding with your own rage boiling in your blood. his words echo clearly in your mind now, and you stare at him in bewilderment as he continues to rant.

"did you even ever fucking think about how that makes me feel?" he asks, but he doesn't give you the time to answer. "you were knocked out for a week, (y/n). if i hadn't gotten you back when i- if shoko hadn't gotten to the infirmary in time-"

he begins to shake his head, a humorless laugh falling from his lips as he has to look away from you. you were making him too angry. and worried. the emotions brewed inside of him and it made him sick to his stomach. you made him sick to his stomach.

no, you made him worry sick over you.

and you could see that now. watching him unravel in front of you, it was like the final piece of the why is megumi upset with me all the time puzzle. he cared about you. in his own way, and he had a weird way of showing it, but he cared about you.

and you were a reckless, proud piece of shit that didn't even care about yourself.

"i-" you start, but you're still not given a chance to speak.

"i don't even want to hear whatever stupid excuse you have for acting like that," he turns back to you before you even get a full syllable out. "i mean it, (y/n), i'm done. i can't take it anymore. i- i really thought i let it happen again, you know that?"

you blink at him, your eyes round and focused as you watch his look of anger fall to something else, something sadder. is this what his concern really looked like?

this is why you had been woken up by his divine dog pawing at your arm. it wasn't the shikigami breaking megumi's orders, it was worried about you, because megumi was worried about you.

your heart stutters in your chest at the sudden realization. it's all fitting together in your mind and you find that it makes you feel...

like an idiot.

"if you- if you'd actually died..." megumi trails off, hanging his head back to stare at the ceiling bitterly, as if the old worn paint would give him the strength to walk away from you.

you seize his moment of silence, and you move quickly.

you're darting towards him, your hands grabbing his collar, drawing his attention back to you in a quick, almost horrified manner. his eyes are wide and his brows almost rise into his hairline.

you hesitate, as does he, your eyes moving quickly between one another's, each trying to read the other person's silent reaction, both too afraid to actually say something in that brief moment where you're standing so close he can see the slight scar poking around the curve of your neck. megumi's eyes stay on that spot for a long moment, before he's looking back at you.

and then you're pressing closer, leaning onto the tips of your toes and holding onto his collar so tight it actually yanks him down towards you. he doesn't find his breath to protest before you're kissing him.

he blinks, his eyes wide and still staring at you, and you're kissing him.

a few seconds delayed, his hands fly to grab you by the jaw. but he doesn't pry you off of him. his eyes fall shut and he's holding your face firmly in place so that he can properly slant his lips over yours.

you try to take a breath in between kisses but he gives you no time to do so, making a whimper suffocate and be swallowed down your throat. you inhale sharply through your nose instead.

your hands release the collar of his uniform only for you to throw your arms around his neck, latching on snugly, and pulling him down, down, down, until you're standing flat on your feet and he's towering over you in an attempt to keep your mouths sealed.

you have to admit, you didn't expect so much eagerness, but you can't complain as his lips dominate over yours, melting you down to putty in his hands.

"i'm sorry," you mumble into his mouth, not bothering to break away, knowing he won't let you. "i'll be more careful next time"

you're huffing for air, and megumi does you the favor of pulling away, just a little bit, just enough that you can catch your breath, and he can look at you.

he wasn't expecting you to kiss him, but he certainly wasn't expecting you to apologize to him.

your eyes meet his, full of an emotion he's never seen before. concern? is this what your concern looked like?

"it's alright," he finds himself forgiving you instantly, calloused thumb tracing along the edge of your jaw, while he looks at you like you're something new he'd just discovered.

and maybe to a certain degree, you are, because he's never seen this side of you before. the self awareness you showed now struck deep, and he believed you when you spoke.

"i'm sorry too" he mumbles, brows furrowing as the cruel words he'd said to you replay in his head now, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

you don't say anything, you just reach up on your toes again so that you can keep kissing him, and he seems to understand that you forgive him, too.

and you pull him then, much like you'd wanted to earlier but now you have a new fervor of intention as your feet move backwards and you're tugging him along to blindly follow. neither of you deem it necessary to break apart as he gets the idea and tries to guide you in the right direction.

the back of your heel hits the dresser and you groan in dull pain and surprise, and still, you don't bother to part your lips from megumi's for even a second. in fact, you card your hands through his hair and move even faster.

you're kicking off your shoes in the process, and megumi trips over them as he tries to take his off in the same fashion, although it's difficult without his hands and without looking, he puts up with the task anyways, his mouth straying from yours as his hand pushes your chin up so he could trail kisses down your jaw and then down your neck.

you hum, your hands fumbling as they try to hastily unbutton his jacket. you're still trying to make your way further into the room but you don't exactly have your bearings, but just as you have his jacket open your legs are hitting the back of the mattress.

megumi practically drops you onto it before shoving the material off his arms and following you quickly. his arms brace himself at either side of your head, as he doesn't want to put an ounce of his bodyweight on you, seeing as you were injured after all.

"you'll still be my partner?" you mumble before he can kiss you again.

"we'll talk about it in the morning" he speaks through a heavy breath, about to lean in to capture your lips again, but you put a hand to his chest.

"you know," you raise an eyebrow at him as he looks confused as to why you stopped him. "if you're still my partner, there will be many more hotel rooms in the future"

he blinks, your words processing slowly, and then he's smiling, and letting out a small chuckle.

"you drive a hard bargain, (y/l/n)"

you grin, finally pulling him down towards you.

"i know what i want, fushiguro" ___

a/n: got carried away again no one's surprised ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi brainrot #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi #fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader enemies to lovers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #megumi imagine

1K notes · View notes

faux-ecrivain · 4 months

Text

Yan Bully Victim

(Twenty third Official Post)

(Name’s Thomas Road)

(Enjoy this short post!)

(Trigger Warning; Mentions of violence, negligence, masochism and other triggering topics.)

(This might be a bit confusing..)

Yan Bully Victim who’s been ignored all his life, by everyone who should love him.

Yan Bully Victim who has no friends and is basically invisible. No one knows he’s there, even the teachers forget he’s in class.

Yan Bully Victim who can’t handle being alone and irrelevant much longer, whose mind wonders into darkness and he begins to contemplate thoughts that would make any normal person sick.

Yan Bully Victim who almost acts on his thoughts, then you show up and, despite the fact that you’re making him miserable, he feels seen.

Yan Bully Victim who begins to go out of his way to aggravate you, stepping on your toes, bumping into you in the hall and he’s spilt quite a few drinks on you (accidentally he would say).

Yan Bully Victim who begins to enjoy the attention you give him, despite how much pain it causes him and actually seems to encourage your behavior.

Your frown deepens as you listen to Thomas ramble about something stupid, you weren’t listening and, yet, it still made you angry. You lash out and slap him, an action relatively tame considering all else you’ve done. He bites his lip and a low groan rumbles through his chest, he looks at you in a strange way that makes you even angrier. So, you hit him again, this time the slap was a lot harder and caused some bleeding.

Yan Bully Victim who panics if anyone threatens to turn you in, but he also resents the person saying they would do so. After all, no one’s ever cared before, so what changed?

Yan Bully Victim who does whatever he can to prevent you from getting in trouble, he’s not ready to lose you just yet. Sure, you hate him and hurt him, but at least he isn’t being ignored.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep your attention on him, regardless of the cost.

(So, this is a short one and it’s certainly not the best. But, hey, it’s a Drabble and it’s the post for today. I hope you enjoyed this and I’ll be happy for any advice you give me!)

#Thomas my oc #My oc Thomas #yandere x reader #Drabble #enjoy this short fanfic!#fanfic #gn reader #not the best #yandere oc #my writing #Twenty third official post #yandere drabble

309 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 1 month

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

15K notes · View notes

seoafin · 3 months

Text

everything eats and is eaten

pairing: fushiguro toji x fem!reader warnings/tags: smut, extremely loose prior teacher x student relationship except toji was a bad teacher and nobody respected him that much, background stsg x reader (i guess), cucking (i guess) word count: ~5.7k title from ingydar by adrianne lenker

this is a fic that was commissioned by @stainedglassvariations if you enjoyed the fic please please please take a second to thank them for their generosity and kindness!

You’ll regret this, Toji thinks. Maybe tomorrow, or the next week. Maybe in the far future.

Or maybe you won’t. He never really knows with you.

It’s not like he knows you, really. Not like Ieiri, not like Gojo or Geto. He knows that you faced him with a blade and lost. He knows that you have lived a distinctly miserable life (he is intimately acquainted with misery). He knows that prying teeth is an easier job than getting you to talk about yourself (it is, admittedly, amusing, to see Gojo’s clenched jaw and Geto’s locked, displeased smile when you, once again, tell them that you don’t mind whatever movie they want to watch, as long as they want to, when you shoot down a question about your childhood that you’ve already marked as negligible) (he is half convinced, that everything the three closest to you know about you came from a particularly nosy foray into your personal file, stolen from Yaga’s office when Gojo’s intentions straddled the line between nosy and curiosity).

It’s better like this. He doesn’t need to know you for this.

Your chest heaves, perspiration gathering in places he shouldn’t observe too closely (the junction where your neck meets shoulder, your temple, your thighs). Your expression is somewhat placid as you stare blankly at the ceiling. Who knows what you’re thinking at this moment, as you come down from the shock of your very first orgasm.

A lesser man would be offended. You had been mostly quiet while he had licked and sucked until you came with a keening, choked noise that had his cock swelling in his pants. He had seen teeth digging into your bottom lip as you struggled not to let anything more escape, the inky depths of your eyes before you closed them.

He meets your gaze from where he rests, in between your legs, and lets his tongue run over his lips, wet from your slick. He has half a mind to spend the rest of the night eating you out, to let him show you just how much he can do with his tongue.

You blink, lips pressing together, as you look at him discerningly, as if you’re not sure what to do next. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, and he’s once more reminded of the hardness pressing against the confines of his pants. Shit, it’s been a while hasn’t it?

Toji clears his throat to speak, before you can do something ridiculous like thank him for the orgasm.

“What are you into?”

You stare at him.

He figures now is as good a time as any to ask. It’s a conversation that probably should have come sooner, but you shrugged off your clothes before he could even say a word, and when his gaze had dropped to the mess of scar tissue at your side, you had stared at him blankly.

Then you put your hand on his clothed thigh in an invitation.

He’s never been that good of a man.

“What gets you all hot and bothered? Gets your rocks off?” His voice is husky. Have you ever touched yourself? He wants to ask. A finger idly runs down your inner thigh. You don’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never thought about it,” you say slowly, composure returning.

He quirks an eyebrow. He’s heard what the visiting Kyoto girls have to say about Gojo or Geto, or both. But you’re being truthful. He can feel the steady thrum of your pulse, the honesty telling.

He’s sure there are devout Christian nuns less repressed than you.

“Everyone has something,” Toji replies easily, eyes never leaving yours. He’s long learned one truth of the world: there are some kinky motherfuckers out there. “Handcuffs, bondage—” he grins, the curve of it a little too sharp, “—teacher-student roleplay?”

You refuse to give into his goading, despite the slight curl of your lips. A grimace. “You’ll make me sick,” you reply tonelessly, slightly rising on your elbows. “Take off your shirt already.” You pause. “Please.”

Toji snorts. It’s not a nice sound.

In a single, fluid movement, his shirt is off. Your gaze goes from his chest, his torso, the tent of his jeans. It settles on his chest.

Appreciation, he thinks. This is new.

“I’m not blind,” you say plainly, lips verging on a frown, as if you can read his disbelief. “You’re very attractive.”

He raises an eyebrow, stifling a chortle. “You know how to get a man going, alright.”

And then he lowers himself down, and kisses you.

You’re not used to it, he gathers, but you try anyway. You meet his lips the best you can, let his tongue run over yours, and try not to be overwhelmed despite the fact that this is most likely the most human contact you’ve ever had in your life.

(He’s read your file too.)

Your legs tighten around his waist, the breaths leaving your mouth are a bit more heavier. He’s rewarded when a hand sneaks down to your wet hole and slowly presses a finger into you, and fuck you’re tight, clamping down on his finger like you want him to stay. He’s careful not to imagine too long how tight you’ll feel around his cock when he’s fucking you into your mattress.

Your breath catches as your lips tear apart, teeth making a reappearance in your bottom lip. His thumb circles the swollen nub between your legs, as he adds a second. You moan, body growing pliant, and Toji thinks, right now, as you look up at him, eyes wide eyed and misty, lips swollen, you’d do anything for him.

Instead, he unclips your bra.

It doesn’t take long. You’re almost embarrassingly easy. You come as soon as he finds your lips once more, and sucks on your tongue in a manner reminiscent of how he had you coming all over his mouth. Combined with the curl of his fingers stretching out your walls, and you’re done for, shuddering with a small whimper. Toji likes his women loud, likes his fucking crude and messy, likes it when he can feel the indent of nails pressing into flesh, raking down his biceps, shoulders, chest.

Toji likes—

Your eyes go unclear. For a second you look out of it, until the cognizance returns.

He doesn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t be interested in the usual false platitudes. He settles on: “You’ve got nice tits.”

You stare at him through heavy lidded eyes once more. It’s almost unsettling, the lack of emotion on your face, despite the rise and fall of your chest as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s too old to care, too unbothered to give you anything but a grin in return.

He’s never been with a woman who looks at him the way you do. He doesn’t know what those two loverboys see in you. You’re not exactly what every teenage boy dreams of but he doubts it matters. He’s seen the way they look at you, no matter how odd in the head you seem. No matter how much he tries to forget. Once, he had looked at someone else that same exact way.

You’ve got nice tits and an even nicer, tight pussy. Right. You’re a virgin. He hasn’t taken a virgin since he was fully moonlighting as a gigolo, and even then he preferred not to. Clingy, prone to tears and romanticization. They always wanted him to stay the night, and when he obliged (for the free bed more than anything), it became a day, and then a week. And then it was the constant pleas for updates, the jealousy, as if he cared for anything but the yen they had to spend on him.

Rich widows. That’s where the real fun was.

Your cunt pulses around his fingers in the wake of your second orgasm. His dick is rock hard, too insistent in his pants to focus on anything else. He’s going to have you past tears by the time the night is over. You have no idea what you’ve given him permission to do to you.

Toji brings his fingers to his mouth, licks your wetness from his fingers. He’s not expecting you to ask him to eat your sweet little pussy out again, so he’ll force the words out of you. Make you say ‘please’ real sweetly.

An arm is thrown over your eyes. You’re not sleeping. More like recovering.

“Done for already?”

You look at him blearily. “There’s more?”

“I didn’t do all that prep just to not fuck you,” he replies dryly, easily freeing his cock from his pants. You go still, eyeing his dripping cock with trepidation. “Help a guy out.”

“Right,” you breathe out, like you’re doing him a favor. “Okay.”

In Toji’s opinion you’re already taking the appearance of his dick better than some other girls he’s had. He knows he’s big. Probably not a virgin’s first choice. Not a virgin like you, who’d be more than fine with some fingers, a toy if you’re feeling brave. A good time for the more experienced girls he’s taken, but you look a minute away from the guillotine. He swipes a condom from the nightstand, rips it open, and rolls it down his cock in one smooth movement. You watch him, almost curiously.

“First time seeing a condom?” He can’t resist the urge to poke the hornet’s nest. He’s always been somewhat of an instigator. Just like you.

You shrug. You’d probably never see one, if it were up to those two. Safe sex is never the first thing on a hormonal teenage boy’s mind. Especially when they’ve been blueballed to hell and back. “Pregnancy’s a bitch.”

You give him a look that clearly says: So is fatherhood, apparently.

He almost winces.

“I’m on birth control,” you reply. “You’re clean. Either way, I don’t really care.”

Of course you’re prepared. Gojo and Geto would have a field day with you. He nudges your thighs open, letting the long hard length of him slap against your stomach right above the thatch of hairs at the junction of your thighs. He likes an unwaxed woman.

You stare at it leerily. His dick twitches at the attention, precum spreading everywhere. He’s always liked his women a little mean. “It won’t fit.”

He laughs at that, deep and just as mean. “It’ll fit.”

His thumb roughly catches on your swollen clit, and he’s rewarded with a hitch of your breath, a reflexive roll of your hips at the pressure. The first sign of anxiety crosses your face, teeth biting at your lower lip.

He could reassure you with practiced words, but you wouldn’t appreciate any of it. He wonders what the Gojo brat would do. What words that ever-smiling Geto would reassuringly murmur in your ear if he was the one about to fuck you. They’d hold your hands at the very least. Those two prodigies, gifted at everything, given all they could ever want. Two boys, born to be at the pinnacle, in love with a girl about to be ruined by Zenin trash.

He likes the thought more than he should. Trash like him touching a girl he has no business descrating. Ruining her in ways they can only dream of. You’ll keep this part of him with you forever, despite your feelings towards him. Despite what’ll happen if they find out.

Let them, he thinks. The boy-god can do many things, but this, this is permanent.

Things would be different. If he were a man that loved you.

But that’s something neither he nor you wants. If anything, it’s the one thing he can respect.

Toji lines himself up at your entrance, and without further fanfare, begins to stretch you open.

He almost winces at how tight you are. A virgin through and through. Your eyes are wide, almost comically frozen. Your teeth tears into your lip, drawing blood.

You make a noise in your throat. It sounds like a whimper. It’s muted, like you don’t want to make too much noise. He’ll have to rectify that. He likes noise. But right now your cunt is struggling to fit him, caught between pushing him out and squeezing him in, and all he can think about is how it’s been forever since a pussy felt this good.

“Shit,” he mutters. You’re warm, wet, and tight. He almost wishes he were bare just to feel you even closer. Almost. He could ruin you. Mess you up so well you wouldn’t be able to do anything but take him. It makes him think he hasn’t changed one bit. He’s always liked ruining things. “Gotta go easy on me sweetheart,” you slightly relax as he plays with the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs, “we’ve got all night.”

You make a choked noise, tears springing at your eyes. Fingernails dig into his forearms, and a rush of heat envelopes him. He keeps a steady hand on your scarred side. You don’t notice.

He’s already marked you once. What’s a second time?

A full body shudder wracks you when he fully sheathes himself inside of you. Your eyes are unfocused, glossy, already a little empty headed, and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“You…”

“All me,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”

A slight frown. “It feels…weird. I feel…” you slightly raise your hips as if to gauge him inside of you, walls pressing tight. The pressure makes his cock ache. A lesser man would’ve blown his load already. He’s got the patience of a saint to be this still while he’s inside your pussy. Your eyebrows furrow. “Full. This is supposed to feel good?”

“That’s the idea,” he replies, looking down at you, the way your chest heaves up and down, swaying. You do have nice tits, for what it matters. Gojo and Geto really are missing out.

Your arms come to close around your chest, blocking his nice view.

So you do get embarrassed. It’s almost cute.

“You can move,” you say pointedly, despite your voice being a whisper. “I’m okay.”

“Wasn’t waiting,” he lies. Well, your funeral.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, moving his hips in a way that has you becoming increasingly flustered. You make a protesting noise, but he’s watching the way his cock sinks into you as he tests you with a shallow roll of his hips.

He’ll have you bouncing on his cock next. Or squirming on his face. So many possibilities.

He begins to thrust in earnest. You cry out as he fucks you, one hand encircling your thigh, the other on your hip, bringing you down on him. The room swells with heat, and every single thrust is accompanied by the sound of his balls slapping into your cunt. You can’t help the noises now. You grow louder and louder with the growing mess forming on the sheets underneath you.

Your hips are struggling to match his thrusts, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of every movement. He’s never known anybody so bad at taking cock. It’d almost be funny if his balls weren’t about to burst. He decides he’ll turn you over on your knees, mount you like a mutt next, as soon as you finish.

“I—” your bottom lip trembles, and Toji wants to bite it. Hard. You almost look like you’re in pain.“It’s—”

You don’t need to say a thing, Toji can feel you squeezing around him. He lifts your leg up, higher, hikes them up on his shoulders. A hand encircles your left ankle, brushing his lips over skin, right before his teeth sink into the fleshy part. You yelp.

“‘Atta girl,” he murmurs as you squirm underneath him, single minded rhythm keeping you pinned underneath him. “Gonna cum on my cock sweetheart?”

Without really thinking about it, he leans down and kisses you. He feels the weak push of your tongue against his. Toji licks the blood from your mouth, and swallows.

You’re gushing around his dick, crying out for anybody and nobody, as your body arches high with the force of it all, the violence of it. A milestone, he thinks. You barely have time to come down from the high before he’s flipping you.

On your knees, a choked squeal tears from your throat as he continues. Hands on your waist, there’s that heat in his abdomen, that tightness. He feels electric. You’re crying now, he can hear you, unsteady breathing peppered with short strangled sobs. Toji should know better. You’re a virgin. You’ve never taken cock before. You used to be his student despite the fact that it didn’t really mean anything. You knew what you were getting into. If anything, he’s going easy on you. This is nothing compared to what Gojo and Geto will do to you when they find out Toji’s cock was anywhere near your cunt.

They’ll tie you up, have their way with you while ingraining the dangers of fucking dangerous men that aren’t them into your body. No condom. Geto looks like he’d be into that kind of freaky shit and more behind that smile of his. Toji almost feels bad for you.

Might as well build up your stamina while you can. He’s practically doing you a favor.

He slightly lifts your hips, pushing into you at an angle that his cock pressing into you, in a spot that makes your toes curl.

“Oh,” you whimper into the pillow. “Again?”

A grin cracks his face despite himself. You always were a funny one. He wishes he could see your face.

Hips pistoning into you at a rhythm far too fast for you to keep up with, it’s not long until you’re trembling again, walls growing tight around him. But all he can think of is how warm and wet your pussy is, how long it’s been since he’s come in something other than his hand. A thought nudges at his head, about how you’re not some fuckin’ fleshlight to be used for his pleasure, he’s supposed to be making you feel good, but he’s too lost, reaching for his release with a vengeance that’ll have you sore for weeks.

Your arms are barely holding on. Toji takes your wrists behind your back, and you nearly fall face first into the bed with nothing but a hiccup. He doesn’t stop. Instead he drives into you at a punishing pace, using your arms to bring you back into him like a ragdoll. Your face barely hovers above the sheets.

“Look at you,” he whistles through his teeth, focused on the small of your back, the sheen of sweat covering your body, “milkin’ my cock like a champ.” Your thighs are wet, slick dropping onto the sheets with every thrust, and he can almost see the frothy white of the rings around his dick had he not been practicing safe sex.

He almost feels at home with the sound and scent of sex in the air. You cum again, and cry out, in alarm or panic, as your body tenses.

“Toji,” you say weakly. It almost sounds like you’re pleading. “Toji.”

It tips him over the edge. After a few more thrusts, he buries himself deep inside you, and his cock twitches with his release. White hot pleasure behind the darkness of his vision. He exhales roughly, shifting his hips to nudge himself deeper inside of your walls. If he had came inside, you would be dripping white. A shame. A good creampie always hits the spot.

He drops your wrists, and you topple on top of the bed, face first, uncaring of the way the pillow smothers you.

Ah, shit.

He’d think you were dead if you weren’t still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasms. It’s not a bad sight. Your pussy is swollen and glistening, thighs trembling, and a part of him can’t help but think the sight would look better painted white.

“You alright?” He asks gruffly, reluctantly turning you over. You look disheveled, bruises marking your neck, chest, thighs. Ring of teeth marks around your ankle. Your bruised hips darken with every passing second, turning that scar that runs up your side a dark ugly color.

Now that you’ve been fucked to oblivion, trying to wrangle your thoughts back into something coherent, he can properly observe the mark he left on you years ago without your side eye. You had shrugged at it before, but Toji knows the significance of scars. There’s little that separates a scar from a brand.

Unconsciously, he rubs at the cut at his lips. It burns.

Trash, trash, trash a voice cloaked in venom spits out.

“I’m fine,” your voice is hoarse as you limply observe the ceiling. “I’m fine.” Your gaze slides to him. You tilt your head at him, but your eyes are curious. You know something’s wrong. “Toji?”

First name basis now, he supposes. No more Fushiguro-sensei this, Fushiguro-sensei that. He’ll probably miss it when he’s fisting his cock a week later.

He looks away, picking himself up to the bathroom to rid himself of his uncomfortably full condom.

“So tell me,” he says as he reclines on your bed, tossing you a towel dampened with warm water. You had been lying down, curled into a near fetal position, blankly gazing at the wall. You straighten as you accept it. “Honest. How was it?”

You think about it seriously. “Are you always that rough with virgins?”

Ouch.

“It’s fine.” A ghost of a smile touches your lips. Almost teasing. “I don’t mind rough.” He thinks you don’t quite remember what it means for someone to be gentle either. The thought makes him unsettled.

Your fingers flit to your wrist absently, brushing over where he had been gripping you. Something in his mouth turns bitter. He doesn’t remember what it means to be gentle, but maybe he should’ve tried.

“Thank you for your help,” you add unhelpfully. Unhelpful in the way that you sound sincere in a way that you shouldn’t be.

The two of you go silent. He’s usually somewhat of a decent conversationalist when push comes to shove. He’s also been with enough women to know that a good orgasm can make a woman everything from weepy to sleepy to talkative.

Like always, you throw everything he knows out the window.

“It was good. Better than I thought it’d be.” Very seriously, you tell him, “You’re very good at sex. Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you?”

He scoffs, despite the fact that there was once a time he would’ve taken advantage of your offer. His lips curl. “You callin’ me broke?”

“I think you could use the money,” you say without missing a beat, looking him square in the face.

He could always use some money, but no way in hell is he admitting that.

Toji narrows his eyes, swallowing his retort of occupying your mouth with something else than snarky replies. Then he briefly contemplates laying you flat out and making you squeal for that comment. It’s a pretty picture, but he decides against it. If he gets going now, there’s no knowing when he’ll finish.

“Are you going to spend the night?”

He imperceptibly freezes. He hadn’t thought that far into it. The original plan was to give you a couple of O’s and slink out after, but then you started talking. And for what it’s worth, he’s always somewhat enjoyed talking to you. You make an interesting conversation partner. When he can follow along, anyway. (Sometimes, he can’t). Hours have passed. The night is dark outside your windows. Shadows blanket your body. He thinks about it.

Your bed is pretty comfortable. Some expensive ass luxury mattress Gojo bought for you when he found out you were originally sleeping with a blanket on the floor, according to you. In your words (and defense), it was just until you bought a mattress. But then you had gotten rather complacent with the floor. Gojo, offended, had bought you a dog bed in some sort of crass gesture to convey his dismay. (Toji bets he had wanted to get a rise out of you). You took no offense to it, and left it in the corner. Geto intervened. A bed was bought.

A fine, expensive ass, luxury mattress that you would’ve never bought for yourself.

A sharp smile cuts across his face in dry amusement. To think, he’d be the one christening your bed.

Besides, he’ll be gone for a couple of months at the very least when Gojo and Geto find out what he’s done. Before they find out. Maybe it’ll be Okinawa for the year. Yaga is going to bitch a fit when he finds out Toji up and left again. The man’ll have to understand. Toji’s always played fast and loose with death, but you are something he should’ve left alone for his own good. He’s always wanted more than he’s deserved.

Trash, he thinks. He touched something he shouldn’t have. He put his filthy fingers all over you, and you enjoyed it.

They deity-fied the Gojo brat when he was younger. Put him in the finest silks like a doll and obeyed his every whim and pleasure. Gojo had seen him once, when the two of them were child and adult. There was something in his gaze, even back then, that peeved Toji, the beaten dog he used to be. It was a gaze that promised mutual destruction.

He sees it now, more or less. Geto’s done the impossible: civilized the godboy. Despite painting his own pretty picture of respect and deference, Toji knows Geto couldn’t care less about it all.

Once, the two of them would have disgusted him.

He’s never seen any man want anything as much as the two of them want you. They’ll have you, but Toji had you first.

Toji stretches, putting on airs by settling yourself into your bed as if it’s his own. He’ll leave if you want him to. If even the slightest indication of discomfort mars your face. “Gotta problem?”

The kids will be fine. Megumi’s always liked you more than the sperm donor who only came back because he had to. And it’s not like he’s leaving permanently. Probably, anyway.

“Not really,” you say, meaning it. “It’s just…” you glance at him, unsure. “I thought you’d leave. Sleeping together is…”

He raises an eyebrow. “I just emptied my balls in ya sweetheart, that’s about as intimate as it gets.”

You blink, as if you had forgotten just where his cock had been an hour prior. If anything, you know how to bruise a man’s ego. No wonder Gojo and Geto are desperate to get your full undivided attention before you flit off to some space in your head reserved for something purely nonsensical.

“Then…I suppose they wouldn’t…want to stay the night either…right?”

How you managed to twist his words like that is simply beyond him. He doesn’t think he could survive one miserable day with the mental gymnastics it takes for you to contextualize yourself as desirable. He doesn’t have the brains for it.

You look a little embarrassed, as if berating yourself for having even thought about it. It strikes him once again that the only reason you had even asked him to fuck you in the first place was because of some misplaced insecurity. And you were lonely. The lonely ones always seek comfort and you are the loneliest person he’s ever met.

Geto and Gojo thought you’d wait for them, even if they didn’t. It’s a mistake that will haunt them for the rest of your lives.

Now you look like a kicked dog, even more than you usually do.

“You could ask,” he says lamely. He doesn’t really know what else to say.

You look vaguely sick at that, for reasons he cannot, once again, fathom. You are a being of endless possibilities. So instead he decides to be amused.

You quickly change the topic. “Do you think I can make them happy?” Your voice is touched by an unusual smallness. You fidget with the sheets, not looking at him.

Toji thinks you could kick Gojo in the balls, and he’d be just as enamored with you, if not more. (He knows a masochist when he sees one.) As for Geto, he’s never seen anyone who could be so effortlessly charming one second, and utterly exasperating the next. (He’s seen the chilling tightlipped smiles given to interlopers who encroach on his time together with you.)

“Men are easy,” he says lazily, “especially when they’re thinking with their cocks. Keep your legs open and they’ll do the rest.”

Instead of shying away from his words, you look relieved. “I can do that.”

He snorts.

You fall silent once more, comforter pulled up to your neck.

“Sometimes,” you say quietly, forlornly, “I think Suguru and Satoru forget I’m not like them.”

He doesn’t know if you think he’s asleep. He doesn’t know if you expect a response. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make a noise. It’s the first time you’ve breathed their names into existence since the evening started.

It doesn’t matter, because after a few minutes you curl, making yourself smaller. Your breathing slows, and in the dark of the night you almost look like a corpse. It would terrify anyone who has held your hand, searching for a heartbeat in the pulse of your wrist.

He closes his eyes.

——

You wake up much earlier than you usually do. Morning has only begun to peek through your curtains. You stare at your ceiling for a couple of minutes, gauging every part of your body, from your shoulders to your toes. There’s a throbbing in your thighs and side, a persistent ache that flares even stronger when you try to move.

You aren’t quite sure what you expected. There’s a weight next to you. You look at the ceiling some more, before sliding your gaze next to you.

A lazy eye cracks open. The two of you stare at each other. You aren’t sure if you’re breathing, in the seconds it takes for you to blink. You had always thought the resemblance between him and Megumi was uncanny. Megumi has Toji’s eyes, both the shade of green and the slightly down tilted shape that lends severity to a glare.

Then he rises, without bothering to put on his clothes. You watch him retreat to the bathroom, and then hear the start of water. He comes back, towel low on his hips, water trailing down his neck.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you tell him. It’s the first words you’ve spoken to each other since last night. It might be an invitation, in the way the set of his eyes narrow. Just like that, things are back to normal.

Heat unfurls in your stomach.

You trudge to the bathroom and turn on the water. It doesn’t take long for the water to get hot, or for Toji to come. He fucks you over the counter, and when you step into the water, it’s a near boil. You leave the bathroom, legs still trembling.

You’re drying your hair with a towel when your phone rings.

Your phone is about to die, but it’s Satoru, and by extension, Suguru, calling, so you answer it anyway.

“Morning,” you say lightly, settling back on the bed, next to a reclining Toji. The two of you keep a respectable space between yourselves. Your thighs ache.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up,” Suguru says through your phone. His voice is soft, so close to your ear, that you almost close your eyes.

“—SPEAKER!” Satoru’s voice. You wince, spell broken, as you are, presumably, put on speaker as Suguru sighs and mutters something about broken eardrums.

Rustling. Movement. And then a loud grunt. Your lips twitch into a grin. You can almost see them rolling around on the bed, fighting over the phone.

“How’s Hokkaido?” You ask.

“Cold,” comes Satoru’s voice.

“We’ll be back in the evening.” You can hear the smile in Suguru’s voice.

Satoru’s voice is fainter, evident of distance. He must have gotten up. “Bakery first!”

Suguru’s answering silence is an eye roll.

“Should we get dinner all together then?” You ask, eager. “Shoko’s finishing up early today.”

There's another silence. A pause. You blink, wondering if you’ve accidentally overstepped somehow. You quickly rescind your offer. “Unless you two already have plans. In that case—”

“No,” Suguru’s voice drops an octave. “I was thinking we could order in tonight.”

The implication in his sentence isn’t lost on you. Your face warms. “Oh,” you say, suddenly overcome by a restlessness. Next to you, Toji raises an eyebrow. You ignore him, forcing yourself to swallow, chest tightening. “Okay.” Then. “Tonight?”

You had been planning on asking Toji if he could teach you how to give a blowjob first, but you suppose that’s out of the question now.

“If that’s what you want,” Suguru murmurs.

The panic on your face must be alarming, because Toji snorts.

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “That’s fine. Tonight…works.”

“...Is someone there?”

You blink. “Yeah,” you reply, without really thinking about it. “Fushiguro-sensei.”

Toji’s head is cocked to the side, silent, in a way that tells you he must have overheard everything. It’s not as if you have anything to hide.

Suguru’s voice is measured. The tone he takes on when his face goes eerily blank, perfunctorily pleasant. Something in your chest tugs. “And what, is Toji doing there so early in the morning?”

It’s your turn to go silent. Maybe tonight isn’t the best night after all. You’re a bit tired, and sore all over. They won’t want you, not like this, and the fear or rejection is a sobering thought. You aren’t confident in yourself enough yet.

The phone is snatched out of your hands. Toji gives you a look, meeting your gaze. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes, and it gives you the vaguest sense of a ticking time bomb.

He speaks into the phone, eyes never once leaving yours. “What do you think?”

The phone clicks off as he tosses it to the floor.

He meets your confusion with an easy shrug of his shoulders. “Turns out you’ll be seeing them sooner than you thought.”

#you don't really need context to read this but ifkyk #fushiguro toji x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader

274 notes · View notes

burst-of-iridescent · 6 months

Note

Hey does everyone remember when Aang physically hurt Katara via burning her due to his own negligence with fire because he didn't listen at all to her concerns? But all of Katara's concerns were her being worried for him getting hurt and not herself, and then he hurts her badly, this never gets addressed again in the show, but I remember this vividly.

i actually like this scene on its own.

aang burning katara is a good character building moment because it's a brutal reminder of his own capacity for destruction. he needs to understand that his reckless actions can have horrific repercussions in order to fully realize the weight of his responsibility as both a firebender and the avatar, and it makes the moment where he uses zhao's recklessness against him more impactful. it also sets up the "water = life, fire = death" dichotomy that's part of katara's arc on viewing the world in binaries, which will later be broken down in book 3.

but ultimately the incident is still of greater significance to aang, and he's the one to bring it up in the guru and western air temple episodes, telling both guru pathik and zuko about his guilt over burning katara and his refusal to firebend ever again. this experience is also what leads him to accept zuko as his firebending teacher, and then finally forgive himself when he learns the true meaning of firebending. for the most part, it's a well-sustained arc and one of the few narratives aang has that is actually brought to completion.

do i wish that katara and aang had actually talked about his actions beyond this episode? yes. do i wish the aftermath had been focused a little more on katara instead of showcasing the impact of her physical injuries mostly through aang's continued self-flagellation? yes. but as a one-off incident contained to a single episode, i don't mind it.

what i do mind, however, is that this is not the last time the show is going to use katara as a lynchpin for aang's character development.

in the book 2 premiere, katara is turned into a pawn to propel aang into the avatar state. in the guru, her imprisonment is the reason that aang chooses to go back to ba sing se instead of unlocking his chakras. that is three separate times now that katara has been damselled in order to facilitate key turning points in aang's narrative, but not once does the same apply in reverse. there is never a moment where aang is the only one put in danger solely to drive katara's arc, the way she is in his. the closest we get is katara bringing aang back to life, but even then his death is still the result of his own choices and more integral to his storyline than hers.

now, compare this to the final agni kai.

at first glance, katara being put in danger just to complete zuko's redemption looks like the same tired trope, and had the scene ended at his sacrifice, it would be. but crucially, it's katara who continues the fight. katara who defeats the scion of fire nation destruction at the height of her power. katara who saves zuko just as he saved her.

in proving herself a master waterbender powerful enough to defeat azula and save someone she loves - someone who sacrificed themselves for her - from fire nation aggression, katara brings her own arc full circle. it is in triumphing over azula by saving each other that zuko and katara become the people they were always meant to be, and so their individual arcs are brought to their narrative culmination through bookending the other. the final agni kai works where the kat.aang moments fall short because it is of equal significance to both zuko and katara's narratives.

obviously, this is not to say that it's bad for certain characters to exist just to drive another character's arc. it's inevitable that some will be written solely to fulfill that purpose because a story only has so much narrative space, and it usually can't - and shouldn't - be divided equally amongst every single character.

but if we're talking about two main characters who end up in a lifelong romantic relationship, and it's the female character being repeatedly damselled to drive the male character's storyline within an already imbalanced dynamic... perhaps it's time to rethink a few things.

#anti kataang #zutara

280 notes · View notes

hayakawalove · 21 days

Text

Test of Love (Chapter Four)

All Chapters

Summary: You decide to forgive Suguru, it's too hard -not- to.

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! I really can't wait to start writing nasty smut for this fic. I really appreciate the comments!

CW: Fem Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 5,098

Credit to @benkeibear for the banner

Your class was running you ragged. When Maki wasn’t yelling at the top of her lungs, you heard Panda breaking desks. Calling it a migraine would be putting it lightly. Your skin prickled at the sight of the second years shoving each other, arguing about something or the other. You loved being a teacher, you really did, but damn if they didn’t make it hard sometimes. You plaster on a fake smile and grab Maki and Panda by the scruffs of their necks, digging your fingers in tighter the more they wiggled in your hold.

“Stop fighting before I tie you to a tree and leave you to make up with each other.” You try to contain your anger but it leaks out in every syllable.

“She started it!”

“Why would I stop when-“

Your feet are moving before Maki can finish her sentence. You loved them to death but they were always doing something to rile you up. It wasn’t on purpose, hopefully. Panda was just Panda and Maki was just Maki.

The harsh heat of the sun beats down on your skin as you fasten the rope across their bodies. Panda looks deflated as he sits on one side of the tree while Maki is holding back a snarl on the other side.

“When I come back the both of you better have figured something out and apologized to each other.” You step away and admire your handiwork.

“I’m better sure that qualifies as child abuse.” Satoru walks up to you, looking towards the tree.

“Yeah, well, everything we do counts as child abuse.”

Plus you weren’t doing it to hurt them. If anything you were doing it to help them. Especially Panda; Maki looked as if she was two seconds away from tearing him limb from limb. It was something she could’ve, and would’ve, done. You definitely didn’t want to have to be the one to explain that to Yaga. You were not about to be put on trial for negligence.

You face Satoru and feel a different type of heat crawl up your cheeks. Memories from the night you spent together flood through your brain. His tongue dragging on your skin, teeth sinking into your flesh, it was hard to focus on what he was saying as you stared at his beautiful pink lips.

Satoru says your name, jutting his face closer to yours. The close proximity causes your heart to stutter as you turn your head, unable to look him in the eye.

“Are you even listening to me?”

His cologne overwhelms your senses. Cedar wood and pine. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you put on a brave face to look towards him. When you turn to him he grins, dropping his eyes to your lips before back up again.

“You weren’t listening. Maybe you just want me for my body.” Satoru teases, before stepping away to his full height.

“Well I certainly don’t want you for your personality.” You quip, feeling the temperature drop back down once he wasn’t invading your privacy.

“You and Suguru are so cruel to me.” Satoru feigns disappointment.

At the drop of the black haired males name the space between you two falls silent. You hadn’t spoken about him in several days, not since the night Satoru and you shared.

Satoru’s the first to break the silence.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

You were sort of dreading that question. Because the truth was, you hadn’t talked to him. You didn’t know how. There wasn’t a rule book for this situation. Were you supposed to reach out first? It appeared like he was stepping back to give you breathing room, but you didn’t want breathing room anymore. You wanted to be suffocated by him.

“No.” You speak under your breath, looking away again.

You can tell Satoru understands. Whether or not he agrees with you is still up for debate. He appeared unbothered by the situation. It seemed like he thought the whole thing was funny, which you couldn’t really disagree with. It really was absurd, wasn’t it? Plus, you had a hard time believing much would cause a real fight between the two. Sure, they bickered, but you knew true fights were few and far between.

Satoru hums and follows you back to your classroom. His students were out on a mission. Yuuta and Inumaki had just left, effectively freeing up your schedule. There had been no word of the recent attacks lately, it appeared like the new strategy that Yaga came up with was working. For now, at least.

“For what it’s worth, he won’t stop talking about you. It’s even starting to annoy me, and I’m the annoying one.” Satoru speaks and sits on a chair in front of your desk.

You make yourself comfortable behind the table, getting your things ready to go.

“I’ve never seen him so distraught before.” Satoru goes on, grabbing one of your desk decorations, fiddling with it before you snatch it from his hand.

“Why is he the distraught one?” You ask, trying to not pay attention to the churning feeling in your gut.

Satoru shrugs and kicks his legs up on your desk, ignoring the dirty look you give him. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to piss you off.

“Good question. Probably because the guilt is destroying him from the inside out. Or something.”

Satoru was dramatic.

Even so, part of you believed what he was saying.

You sigh and cross your arms on the desk, laying your head down. Suguru was nice, there was no doubt in your mind that he felt bad for what happened. At first, you enjoyed it a little bit, knowing that he felt bad because what he did was wrong. But that turned into guilt. You weren’t sure which of you was more remorseful now.

“If he had it his way he would be smothering you. He’s like that, you know. But he respects space so he isn’t going full mother hen on you yet. Although the second you come around he definitely won’t hold back again.”

You tap your forehead against your arms several times. Smothering you, huh? You’re reminded of the actions he did on your date, the ones that struck you as parental. It would make sense if he was overwhelming. Not that that was a bad thing.

You almost had to laugh, the two men were so opposite. Suguru was overwhelming on the inside but tried to hold back, while Satoru was overwhelming on the outside, but was more reserved the closer you got.

“Where do I even start, Satoru?” You peek out over your arm, catching a glimpse of a smile when you say his name.

It was still taking you time to get used to it, but you liked the way it rolled off your tongue.

You liked his name.

“Don’t know. Whenever I piss him off I just annoy him till he gets over it. He doesn’t piss me off very much so I’m not sure what I’d do. But you could just start over with him. A redo.”

A redo?

You think about the idea for a moment before you hear your name being called from the courtyard. Satoru remains seated as you stand up, making your way towards the doors. Maki is yelling at you but you’re having a hard time hearing her. When you get closer, you see that the two of them look much more calm. Maybe it was a bit harsh, but it worked.

“We forgave each other, can you let us go now?” She yells.

You crouch and begin working the knot, thoughts floating back to Suguru.

After work, you should do something after work.

When you stand back up you stagger behind your students, head in the clouds as you think about Suguru. Pink covers your vision as flower petals dance to the ground in front of you. The splash of color reminds you of the butterfly wings you saw with him. It was such a magical date, you truly hadn’t been on anything like it.

The door slams behind you as you enter your classroom and you feel your heart sink. Satoru had left. It was a shame, you were enjoying his company. You couldn’t be that upset, though. He was constantly being dragged away for missions. You needed to leave soon anyway, so you tried not to let it get to you.

~~~

The sun blurs your vision as you make your way to the old bookstore. You planned on stopping in after work to gather your thoughts before heading to Suguru’s (and Satoru’s). You find you always did your best thinking when in the confines of the book shelves. An overwhelming smell of old paper and black ink hits your nose as you walk through the threshold. It was quiet today, everyone was probably enjoying the nice weather outside instead of staying in to read.

You wander the halls and find yourself down an aisle, looking for a specific book. Your eyes glaze over the different titles until you find the one you’re looking for. ‘In the beginning’. It was a book Suguru had told you about over text late one night. He said it wasn’t nearly as good as the one you were reading previously, but that it was still decent. You wrap your fingers around the spine and pull it out, clutching it in your hand while you go to your favorite seat.

It was the same seat that you had met him in. You plop down and open the book, turning to the first page. You allow the words to whisk you away.

The space around you is completely silent, save for the sounds of the fragile paper between your fingers. You don’t notice a man walking up to you.

“That’s a good book.” A voice softer than silk reaches your ears.

Hold on.

You know that voice.

You tear your eyes from the page to see a man standing in front of you. Hair deeper than obsidian and an angular face tilted down towards you.

Suguru.

“I think so,” you attempt to keep your voice steady.

You’re reminded of your first meeting with Suguru in the cozy building.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just saw the book you were reading.”

“It’s okay, in fact someone recommended this to me.”

His lips twitch into a slight grin as you play along with him. A redo, Satoru’s voice plays back in your head.

“Is that so?” He questions, sitting on the chair across from you.

The same chair he sat in when you met.

“Yeah, the guy has really good taste.”

Suguru’s mouth parts as his tongue drags across his bottom lip, the action slow, vaguely reminding you of the night you saw him last.

“What’s your name?”

You say your name, watching as his eyes glisten at the sound.

“You have a pretty name.” His arms rest lazily on the chair, tendons littering his hands. “My name is Suguru.”

There’s butterflies in your stomach now, just like the butterflies you saw with him at the observatory. The discussion feels like a carbon copy of the initial one you had, minus your feelings. Back then, you were nervous. But now, you were only giddy.

“What is it you do for a living?” He asks.

“Actually I’m a teacher.”

“Really? I’m curious if you know my boyfriend. His name is Gojo Satoru.”

Your face cracks into a grin as Suguru opens himself up. In addition to him revealing Satoru, you could also see a wave of blue surrounding his form. Cursed energy.

“I do, for better or worse.”

Suguru lets out a chuckle at your words, crescent eyes locked closed as his chest rumbles. His laugh was soothing.

You were so glad he came up to you first. Even though you were planning on going to his house after this, you still weren’t sure what you were going to say. Obviously he would know what to say. The world around you disappears as your gaze focuses on Suguru.

It was comforting to be around Suguru. It was hard to be without him, even if you hadn’t known each other that long.

Even though you enjoyed Satoru, and you really did enjoy Satoru, it felt right to have the two of them balance each other out.

“I hope I’m not coming off too strong, but would you be interested in going out?” He asks.

Yes, yes, a hundred times yes.

“I don’t know, would your boyfriend mind?”

“Something tells me it wouldn’t bother him.”

You grin.

“What’s your number?” You say this, knowing full well his contact is already in your phone.

He reads it to you and you go to his contact, finally saving it under his name. You read your number out to him, no doubt in your mind he already has it.

“I’m looking forward to it.” He slides his phone in his pocket.

You watch as he departs, until you can no longer see him. You should be getting home too.

~~~

Your feet hit the pavement as you start your walk home. You were relieved that Suguru reached out to you. You were hoping he would text you soon for details about the date. You wondered what the two of you would get up to. The last time you saw him things got heated very quickly. It felt like things had reset though, and you were glad for it. You wanted to do things right this time.

Although you didn’t want to forget everything that happened.

Suguru’s laughter, smell, and the way his voice sounded pressed up against your ear filled your mind.

You see a single butterfly overhead, a rare occurrence for the bustling streets of the city, and you stop in your tracks.

You couldn’t wait for him to text you.

Your feet move before you have a say, and you’re running to Satoru and Suguru’s apartment. You were still by the bookstore, so it would have been faster to catch a cab, but you weren’t thinking straight.

You had wasted time being mad at him. You needed to see him again. All rational thoughts leave your head.

You stop running after thirty minutes, once their tall building stands before you. It was a bit daunting. You force yourself to step inside the building, and goosebumps immediately crawl over your skin. There was a sheen of sweat layering your forehead and your hair was a crumbled mess. The attendant eyes you, only looking away when you meet her gaze. You looked crazy. You almost thought about turning right back around, the absurdity of the situation hitting you like a freight train.

No, you were here and you were going to do this.

Your feet make their way to the elevator, and you thank god when it opens and there’s no one inside. You feel antsy as the elevator carries you to their floor, mind flailing as you try to come up with something to say.

I know we just saw each other, but I want to see you again.

What if he wasn’t home yet? That would be awkward.

You walk towards their apartment, your fist knocking the door once you reach it.

You’re still out of breath as the door creaks open. Suguru’s standing there, brows raised in surprise as he looks down at you.

“Who is it?” Satoru calls from behind.

Suguru says your name, watching as you breathe hard.

“You here for part two?” Satoru says, a playful tone filling his words.

Suguru’s face scrunches up as he looks behind him before turning back towards you.

“What’s up?”

“I want to talk to you.” You pant.

Suguru steps out, closing the door behind him to gain some semblance of privacy. You knew Satoru probably had his ear pressed against the door, if there was anything that bugged him it was not being privy to some information.

“I’m sorry for overreacting to what happened. I was stupid. And I just wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date soon, like tomorrow.” Your words rush out, watching as an indecipherable expression lights up Suguru’s face.

He stops you, placing a finger underneath your chin. He tilts your face up and plants a kiss on your lips.

“I would love to go out tomorrow.”

Your hands grip his shirt, biting your cheek as relief washes over you.

~~~

When you meet Suguru for your second first date it was dusk. A pink orange hue had settled over the city, the bustling metropolis more quiet than usual. The sky reminds you of cotton candy and your thoughts drift to Satoru, his sweet tooth making a smile break out on your face.

“What’s got you smiling?” Suguru breaks you from your trance when he reaches you.

You look up at him, eyes trailing down his unwavering figure. His hair was half up half down, and he wore lazy clothes with a jacket. You liked this look on him.

“I was just thinking of Satoru.”

Suguru stops short in front of you, offering his arm up. You graciously accept, threading your elbow around his. A smile quirks on his lips as the two of you start off.

“Thinking of another man on our date?” He’s poking fun at you.

You nudge him with your shoulder, and your ear picks up on soft laughter escaping his lips. The two of you decided on dessert, agreeing that you deserved as much after a long day of work.

Your feet carry you down a sidewalk until you reach a small dessert shop. Cakes, cookies, and ice cream were advertised on the windows, the thought of it making your mouth water.

It’s relatively slow when you step inside. There’s several families and a group of friends, but all of them are keeping to themselves. The sweet scent of sugar fills your senses, fueling the excitement that was beginning to boil in your stomach. It seemed like such an odd place for him to take you. Honestly, it was more fitting for an idea for Satoru to pitch, not his black haired counterpart.

You stroll up to the counter, eyes the size of the moon as you glance down at the display of sweet treats. The cakes were looking the most appealing, so you decide on that. You lift a finger up to point to a triple chocolate cake, your body shimmying slightly as the worker slices you a piece. You think you see Suguru out of the corner of your eye watching you, but you decide not to say anything. There wasn’t much of a point in getting embarrassed in front of him, he had already seen so many sides of you. Suguru requests a slice of vanilla cake and pays, shortly following you to a table in the back of the shop.

You don’t feel nearly as nervous as you did when you had your first date. There was already this calm understanding between the two of you (something that probably happened after you grinded against him in the club).

The two of you talk about your days, the conversation flowing just as easily as it did whenever you talked to Satoru. Suguru told you he was off today, and spent most of the morning cleaning his apartment.

“I was a bit surprised you didn’t reach out first, Satoru said you tended to be smothering.” You laugh to yourself, sliding your fork through the cake.

It tears like paper, the texture moist and fluffy. Homemade chocolate icing decorated the outside, spirals printed into the cake.

“Did he?” Suguru asks rhetorically, crossing a leg over his other, taking a bite of his dessert.

“He did. Although I’m a bit surprised. I would have thought he would be the smothering one, just based on his personality type. But at times he seems a bit guarded.”

Suguru remains quiet as you speak, his eyes remaining downcast as he thinks.

“He is. He just isn’t used to opening up around people. From what I hear though, he has no problem talking to you.”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip and grin, dragging the fork to your mouth. The dessert melts onto your tongue, tainting your lips brown.

“I would like to think so. I mean, he’s not always guarded. He told me he gets needy after-“ you stop yourself, staring into your cake. You drag your eyes up and see Suguru watching you, an intrigued look on his face. After looking down once more you finish your sentence. “Sex.”

Suguru’s brow lifts as his eyes stay steady on you. The hair on the back of your neck raises.

“When’d he say that?”

Your eyes are glued to the table in front of you as your body heat rises twenty degrees. When did it get so hot? You can feel Suguru’s eyes staring into you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You’re really glad he can’t, because if he could he would see your night with Satoru replaying over and over.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of telling Suguru you and Satoru had sex (sort of), he knew you were also seeing him. Hell, he almost had sex with you first. So why did it feel like you were caught red handed?

“Oh um, a couple days ago.”

Suguru’s head tilts as he continues looking at you, obviously not satisfied with your answer. You feel a bit like a mouse, with Suguru seeming like a cat who had his gaze set on you.

“How’d that come up?”

Surely he was fucking with you. He knew exactly what happened. Satoru must’ve told him, right? The fucker couldn’t keep anything to himself, you wouldn’t be surprised if Satoru bragged to Suguru as soon as he could.

“When we,” you fiddle with your fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

You were an adult for Christ's sake, so why did you feel so small under his gaze?

Those fucking eyes of his.

Suguru lets out a chuckle and raises his fork to his mouth. Your chest feels lighter at the break in tension, your shoulders sagging in relief. He takes one more bite before pushing his plate towards you.

“Come on, try it.”

You look up at him and grin, grateful he was letting you off the hook. You pierce your fork in his cake, dipping it in your mouth. The vanilla compliments the chocolate well, the mixture making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“You can have the rest of it. If not, I’m just gonna give it to Satoru, he practically begged me to let him join us but I told him you weren’t ready for that yet,” Suguru rests his head on his hand, watching you eat. “You aren’t, right?”

That is what you told Satoru. You wanted to take it slow, and enjoy your time with each man separately before diving head first into a polyamorous relationship. You probably should wait, it was already overwhelming to spend time with them one at a time, you weren’t sure how you would be able to handle both at once.

You did, however, know you wanted to.

“Yeah, not yet at least. I do want to, it’s just,” you cut yourself off.

How are you supposed to tell him that both of their presences make you feel like you’re drowning?

“I get it.” Suguru’s voice soothes you.

Of course he would. You remember what Satoru had to say about Suguru. Nice and understanding. They were the same words you would use to describe him as well. It was sort of weird, though. For years you had heard small bits about this man through Satoru or Yaga.

You knew he would sometimes snore when he was starting to get sick. You knew he was smarter than Satoru in all subjects besides math and science. You knew what his breakfast order was. But you just had never known him. You never knew what he looked like, how he smelled, how your name sounded off his lips.

But now you did. And you were so grateful.

You nudge the plate forward back towards Suguru, feeling as though your stomach may burst. There were several bites left, and you were sure that Satoru would chide Suguru for not leaving him more.

“I can’t eat anymore, you might just have to roll me out of here.” You rub your hand across your stomach, leaning back into the chair.

Suguru smiles at that. You’ve decided you really liked his smile.

It’s dark when the two of you step outside, a cool breeze causing a chill to run up your spine. You shiver, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru. He shrugs off his jacket and carefully drapes it over your shoulders, and moves a piece of hair out of your face, sliding it behind your ear. Smothering. The word runs through your mind again. Suguru was doting, that much was obvious. But you could see how it may come off as overbearing. You wouldn’t mind being smothered by Suguru. You doubt Satoru minded it either, in fact you were sure it must have contributed to the reason Satoru was a spoiled brat.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He squeezes your hand.

You rest your head against his arm as the two of you walk back to your house. You had only gone out to eat, yet somehow it had felt magical. Not only did it feel magical, but it felt normal. You liked that about Suguru. Being with him felt like you were in a fairytale, and at the same time you felt like an ordinary girl. You never spoke about work with him, he allowed you to just be.

Not that you hated that about Satoru. In fact, you quite liked it. It was nice having someone who understood you and the work you were doing, someone you could bitch to whenever Yaga got on your nerves. They really did balance each other out well.

The moon lights up your path as you walk besides Suguru, the low sounds of the city a low buzz in your ears. It was never quiet here. You didn’t really mind it. You probably would’ve been paranoid if it was quiet. Anytime you had a mission in a small town it felt like you were waiting for something to jump out at you.

You decide you want to hear Suguru’s voice some more.

“Hey Suguru?”

He hums, eyes flickering down at you before returning to the sidewalk.

“What do you like about Satoru?” You’ve been meaning to ask.

For years you heard Satoru talk about Suguru, so you were interested in hearing what the other man had to say.

Suguru stops and looks around a bit dramatically. He’s looking at the bushes that line the pavement, and over the parked cars.

“What’re you doing?” You stop and watch him.

“Seeing if Satoru’s hiding somewhere. Did he put you up to asking that?”

You start to laugh, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. You close your eyes as you chuckle. It really is something that Satoru would ask.

When you open your eyes you see Suguru looking down at you, watching as you laugh. Your heart skips a beat at the way his eyes shine in the moonlight. A soft smirk is painted on his face while he looks at you.

“No, no he didn’t. I just wanna know. He’s talked about you a lot, you know.”

Suguru dips his head and turns forward again, starting to walk. You follow after him and look up, watching as he talks.

“He’s just Satoru. It’s hard to explain. He’s annoying, noisy, cocky-” Suguru lists off.

“Pretty sure I asked what you like about him.” You stop him.

“-but he's also intelligent, funny, and caring. He cares so much for people, even though he has a weird way of showing it.” Suguru uses a tone you've never quite heard him use before.

“I never really felt understood by people. I come from a family of nonsorcerers, so for a while it just sort of felt like I was the only one who existed. I love my family, but they never really understood me, still don’t.”

You come from a family of nonsorcerers too, so you knew the feeling all too well. You were so damn lonely as a kid.

“And then when I met Satoru it was like my world shifted. Not only was he a sorcerer as well, but he was the strongest one. Or, on track to become the strongest one at least. I didn’t feel alone anymore. And I haven’t ever since.”

You feel weightless at his words. The love the two of them had for each other was unbreakable. The kind of love you could only read about, the kind of love you weren’t sure really existed until now.

Your heart aches at the possibility of them loving you in the same way. It was something you had dreamed about since you were little. They might not love you in the exact same way, but they might love you just as much. You begin to feel dizzy at the prospect.

Your apartment comes into view and you feel a little sad that your date was over. You would be seeing him again, you remind yourself.

“Don’t tell him I said any of that, though. His head is big enough as is.” Suguru murmurs.

You laugh and agree. Satoru would not shut up if you told him what Suguru said. Something told you that Satoru knew how much Suguru loved him, though.

Your feet stop as you reach your apartment. Suguru faces you and smiles as you begin to take off his jacket.

“Keep it, what if your apartment is cold too?”

You bite back a smile, wrapping it around you once more. He wanted you to keep it.

“Smart, I wouldn’t want to catch a cold in my house.”

“I would never forgive myself if you did.”

Suguru’s eyes lock with yours. He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Warmth blooms across your skin, crawling down your body. He pulls back and pushes his lips against yours, the taste of him seeping through you. He tasted like vanilla.

Your eyes flutter open when he steps away. You tug his jacket around you tighter, waving as he turns to go home.

Those two boys were going to be the death of you.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @constawrites, @spookysoowpprince,

@reosnagi, @faerie-soirxx, @platrom, @oownowonwoo, @megumisdivinedogs,

@sakui1, @maskedpacific, @riri-twix

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know, and specify if you only want to be on the taglist for this fic or all my works

132 notes · View notes