#but i don't think it's supposed to be a 1-to-1 au
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The Forest On The Other Side
Chapter 1: I want to go home.
Ver. [ENGLISH / SPANISH]
A girl gets lost in the forest and finds a misterious gate in the middle of nowhere. At the other side she meets a... very peculiar individual who seems to only want to befriend her and play. Everything seems fine.
Until night falls and someone else joins to play...
Again, I appreciate feedback about the english adaptation. English is not my first lenguage and I still mess up sometimes.
This is in some way a more "joyful" story than BIOMáquina, still with its dark themes. I wrote this a year ago. By this I mean I forced myself to get it written down and ended up hating it and burning myself out. A couple of weeks ago I decided to reread it and I though it was pretty ok actually, so I edited it a bit to make it flow better. It used to be written more as a script for the comic I wanted to draw buuuut that didn't happen (cough stressed myself out cough forced myself cough don't force yourself to make content out of a hobby, a hobby is supposed to be for your own fun). I'm not completely satisfied with the final draft but I think is good enough for my first ever fic written.
I originally planned to make it a Y/N thing but that didn't last long. But I keeped the original idea of the first person POV. The Y/N stories I've read has always some narrator telling you what you do insert you in the story. I thought of making the MC the narrator, this way the reader can insert themselves like it's their story or they can read it as if someone else is telling them a story. This is also a bit limiting, since the narration is also the MCs thought process and sometimes I may skip details MC couldn't have seen.
AU, Magical forest, DCA centered, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Elves Sun & Moon, OC, Selfinsert, Character & OC, platonic, friendship, slowburn (kind of), Moon is agresive at first, Moon is also a bit of a gremlin, Protective Sun (I think), OC is a potty mouth, Female Main Character, First person, Angst.
The first post where I showed this AU and my first sketches ideas.
Tumblr archive with all of the art, ideas and anwsered asks.
Youtube Playlist which I'm pretty proud of how it turned out :] It's in a specific order but you can put it on mix.
Note: even though I try to keep things light some things may be triggering for some readers.
CW: Anxiety, Suicide ideation, Implied death, Choking, Non sexual abuse.
Wordcount: 9,700 (It's not rounded, that's literally the number Word tells me it's at lol)
Welp.
Here we are again, in the old village house (yey...). Well, 'I am', my family won't arrive to settle in for another week. They brought me here beforehand a few days ago for organizational reasons. They took a quick look inside before they left to see the state of the house, if it needed any repairs and such, and they headed back to the city. While they finish preparing everything, I take care of the house and text them messages about anything that may be needed for when they return.
We haven't been here in years, the house needs some repairs, and I'm sorry for the spiders, but it could use a deep cleaning. We can't do a deep cleaning but I have been cleaning what I can these last few days, at least so that it looks decent... at first glance.
Well, it's not like anyone is coming to visit.
It's a quiet town, until the kids from the town next door come to make a racket with their bikes. They play in our field, scare away the cats and throw cans around. They are assholes.
Anyways, the people in the village are nice. The adults I mean, the kids I used to play with, I don't get along with them anymore. Some of them aren't kids anymore, we have grown up and are going down different paths. But those who are still kids... they're still interested in the only older kid in the town who listened to them and let them do whatever they wanted, to a certain extent.
I don't want them to come looking for me to go out and play. I've been avoiding them by saying that I'm busy cleaning the house and getting it ready for when my family arrives, but I feel like interacting with them less and less. That's why I'm going out to the woods behind the house to get lost for a while, as always. The kids don't go near the forest so they won't bother me there.
There is an area for tourism and hiking but not many people come, some police cars border the forest from time to time but they never go inside. The reports of missing people in this forest have been coming in for decades, only some lost children have returned but there is no trace of any of the adults who disappeared along with the rest of the children. The areas marked with signs are safe but you can't go out of bounds unless you want to disappear with those people.
And I, who right now am alone and with no one to notice my absence if I go missing, am going to head straight to the forest. Don't you think, I don't want to disappear, I just don't like people and I usually go into the forest but I don't go too far away. As long as I see my house in the distance, I know how to return.
I grab my bag with my sketchbook and pencil case, in case I feel like drawing (probably won't) and step out to the back porch. The outer sliding metal door that protects the inner one is rusty and difficult to open. It would be better to oil it but I don't know when it will be done, considering that the broken railing has had a wooden board tied to it for years. I already sent my mother a message talking about it.
I enter the forest and start walking around. It's hot, of course, it's early summer, but it's quite noticeable after being in the cool inside the brick and stone house. That's the good thing about coming here in summer, the houses are made to stay cold inside and it's great, sometimes I even need to wear a jacket. But outside I'm dying, the trees don't provide enough shade. In fact, some trees are missing. I used to have my routes memorized but time has passed and some paths have changed, some have disappeared and others have formed. I admit that it makes me a little sad... I began to walk absorbed in my thoughts not paying attention to where I was going.
I'm walking away, I should go back. I'm not going to draw anything here anyway, and it's hotter outside than inside so I'm gonna to turn around-
I hear screams and laughter in the distance, the sound of the voices produces me an immediate disgust. It's those kids from the next door village. They must have come to 'investigate' about the disappearances or maybe they don't care and they just came to be idiots-
They're getting closer.
I don't want them to see me. God. Don't let them see me. Anyone but them. They're getting closser. Don't let them see me. I can't go back home now. They're cutting me off. Of all the people who could have found me. It had to be them. No, please. Don't let them see me. I have to go further into the forest, I can't let them see me. They're getting closer. Don't let them see me. I want to leave. I want to leave. I'm getting too far. I want to leave. I don't see my house. I want to leave. I don't see the village. I want to leave. I don't see the kids.
...
...
...
Where am I?
Fuck.
Where am I?
I want to leave.
I want to leave.
I want to leave.
I want to leave.
…
—
Now I'm wandering through the forest. I don't want to go back. I want to get out of here. Even though I'm walking in a straight line I feel like I'm going around in circles, and I'm not going to get out of here now. Great. I'm lost. Now what? People who get lost in this forest don't return, no one has returned except for some children.
...
I'm going to disappear.
...
For now I keep walking until something happens. Maybe there's an animal that kills people who get lost, or maybe it's a group of kidnappers, or maybe I should stop giving myself anxiety and focus on getting out of here. Maybe if I find a field or road, or even the tourist area, I'll be able to get out of here and return bordering the fores-
...
There is... colorful graffitis on the trees. Someone has painted eyes, hands, stars and more on the bark of the trees...
What's this?
I don't know where I've come to, I didn't know this was here, in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The trees have red leaves like in autumn even though summer has just started... The first thing I thought was 'climate change's fault' but there is something that stands out in the middle of this entire flat area and it is disturbing me.
In the center there is a kind of circular gate made of stones supported by roots.
Okay, maybe it doesn't sound aaaaas disturbing as, I don't know, a totem with a human figure being impaled or something, but it's giving me a bad vibe. What is this place? Who built a stone arch in the middle of everything and why?
A bird appears flying from behind me and goes through the gate, but nothing comes out on the other side... wait what? how? The bird has crossed the gate, and disappeared behind the stone arch? ...I had to imagine it, it's not possible that that happened. I approach the arch but not before picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it to the other side of the gate.
It's still there.
…
For some reason the thought of going through the gate makes me uncomfortable, so I go around it.
...
...And the rock? It's not there.
I go back and look from inside the portal.
The rock is there.
...
I look from outside. The rock is not there. I repeat this multiple times. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock... What?
Alright, this is weird, this is VERY weird.
Even though it is clear that this isn't normal, I have to go back, pick up a fallen branch from the ground and pass it through the portal. This time I don't throw it, I've grabbed a branch long enough to see it peek out from the other side of the arch.
...
Welp.
I should be seeing not only the branch, but also my hand sticking out of the side, but I'M NOT SEEING IT. OKAY. OK. ALRIGHT. IT'S CONFIRMED. THIS IS WEIRD.
I'm asleep, right? Or unconscious. I must have passed out from exhaustion from endlessly wandering through the woods and I'm delirious or something. No, wait, it can't be, in my dreams I'm not this aware of what's around me. Where am I?
A breeze begins to pass through the gate. It's getting stronger but not enough to push me. The leaves rise from the ground and float towards the portal, none slipping outside, all entering through the stone arch. Suddenly the breeze that had become wind stops. The leaves fall to the ground.
...
I look back for a moment, as if there was something behind me that could help me make a decision. Grabbing with both hands my bag strap I look back at the portal again. Okay. Alright. This is possibly the death of me. I'm going to cross. I'm going to go to the other side. I'm just one step away from crossing. I wrinkle my face and narrow my eyes before taking the last step.
...
Nothing has happened. Everything seems the same. However, I know it's not the same... Or at least it doesn't feel the same!
Well, I've already crossed. I'm gonna... keep walking, I guess, even though this is scaring me and I don't know if I'll know how to go back. For now I'm moving forward. The red leaves have disappeared several meters ago. It's starting to look like a normal forest, except for the multicolored drawings and handprints that I keep seeing on the trees. In fact, it seems like the trees are taller with every step I take. So high that I can barely see the top. I almost tripped while looking up. Whether this is the same forest I come from, I no longer know.
This was a bad idea. I just hope to find something that'll help me know where I am, a sign or the road if possible.
*cling*
...?
I hit something with my foot. There is a ball attached to a small chain on the ground. Oh, no, wait. *cling diring ding* It's a rusty bell, I think. It doesn't have the typical cross-shaped hole or slot, rather it has several holes in a pattern. It looks like it can be opened.
There's nothing inside.
?
There's nothing? But I could have sworn it had rang. I close it again and shake it.
*...*
Nothing.
I'm going to put it in the bag, it's totally a good idea. I'll think about it later, for now I'm moving on.
—
I've been walking for a while now and throughout this time I had a constant chill on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes on me.
*din dirring* I hear a soft tinkling in the distance.
Okay, I'm not alone, awesome, what do I do now? Do I say hi and risk the potential danger finding me? Do I ignore the sound of bells and keep moving? It's very possible that whatever made that sound is watching me right now...
“Hello?” Still nervous, I try to say hello looking around “...” “Is someone there? H-hello?”
“-HEEEEELLO!”
“AAAAAH-!” I cover my mouth with my hands as I turn to look at what the hell has greeted me back. I take a few steps back while I look at the figure of earthy and sunny tones who responded, he seems as surprised as I am, I think (with the scream I made, normal), at least it looks like he's surprised. He wears a two toned wooden mask... it looks like a sun, with a crescent moon on its right... It gives the impression of two faces merged into one... Damn, he is tall, he's almost doubles my size. He appears to have two skin tones dividing him in half, his right side being the lighter and the left darker, especially the arm, which also has a light-colored tattoo of lines representing a sun symbol that covers from the shoulder to the pectoral and to the middle of the bicep. The right arm is covered by a long fingerless glove that reaches to the shoulder and is tied around the chest. He's wearing baggy pants with leaves coming out of the waist and legs, some... cloth boots? with a long toe bending sharply and curving in a geometric swirl with a bell at the tips, a bag hangs from the waistband of his pants and falls below his hips. His chest and neck are tied by ropes decorated with hanging stones, metals and crystals, he wears a pendant that ends in a carved symbol of a crescent moon with rays. Some of the 'sunrays' on his mask have ropes tied between them holding them in place and some metal dangling. Some red ribbons along with bells hang from his wrists.
“um... Helloooooo.” He greets again, this time he lowers his tone of voice. I manage to react, I turn around and walk away. “¡ah- eh- Wait!” Nope, I'm not going to wait and see what he does with me, I'm leaving. “He-! Hey!” Nope. I quicken my pace and try to get lost among the trees, changing direction every time he appears in my vision angle. “Human? Human-! FRIEND. Can I call you friend?!” Nope, nope, nopnop, nop, nop, nope. “Friend! Hey!” God, no, god, god, no, why are you following me? “Look, I know what you're trying to look for...! And believe me, you're not going to find it~!” How are you still following me? Where do you come from? “Hey! Listen! Why don't we do something else besides running in circles!?” Noooooooooo... “There are TONS of other activities we could do! Like... HOLY MOLY, look at this stick! Do you like sticks!?” Leave me aloneee... “You aren't looking at it! Okay, alright, you don't like sticks, erm... what might be of interest to you...” If I don't look at it it doesn't exist. “Could you help me a little here?” I want to leave... “Look, no matter how much you wander around, you won't find the portal-!”
“STOP—! STOP FOLLOWING ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The sudden scream startles him again, making him jump in place. He stands completely still looking at me. I'm leaving before he gets angry.
“B-but I- ...okay.” I thought I heard him say before I left him behind.
It seems that this time he's not following me, finally... Although I'm not calm, he could still be following me and simply not be in sight. Anyway, I think I'm coming back? I hope I am. I want to find that portal as soon as possible and go back to the house- what the fu-? “WHY?”
He's there. Right where I left him. Sitting on a rock. Waiting. “...! I haven't moved from the spot!”
“Yeah- but- WHY?”
“Because I knew you were going to come back here!”
“...What?”
“Is what I was trying to tell you! You can't leave! No matter how hard you try to find the portal, it won't appear before you!” The Sunman exclaimed.
“…” I'm just about to turn around. In fact, I'm already turning around.
“N-No, wait! Please don't go!” I stop in my track and look back at him. He gets off the rock he was sitting on but remains squatting, almost at my height, a little below. I move back, keeping my distance. He puts his hands up. “Look, I'm not doing anything! I won't chase you! Just- ...don't go.”
“…”
“L-look, listen, there's no way it's going to show up! Well, not to you at least. But even if you find it back, it won't work! It only works when it wants to work.”
“...” Let's imagine that I trust what he says “Ok... and when does it want to be working?”
“...” “No idea!”
“...”
“...”
I'm about to collapse on the spot. At least he doesn't seem hostile, for now. “...” “Okay... Good... Great...” “...” “FanTAS-tic.”
“...” “You don't seem like it.”
*ಠ_ಠ* I could only look to the side in frustration in response to that. I looked back at him with concern showing on my face and grabbing the strap of my bag with both hands. “And... what... do you plan to do with me?”
He took his hand to the chin of his mask and with the other he held his elbow in a comical thoughtful pose. “MmmmnnDUN know! What do you plan to do?” He asked so nonchalantly. He ended up sitting on the ground crossing his legs. “You have a good while until the portal opens again...!”
“...”
“...”
“...”
He started swaying. The silence has become uncomfortable for a while now, but I can't organize myself on what to say, and I don't know if I trust him. I don't even know if he's human, although something tells me he's not.
“You could wait here.” He suggested, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Or anywhere else, if you want. I would recommend somewhere high like the treetops (for no particular reason)! If you're going to wait... But wouldn't that be really boring?” There was something in his tone of voice... “Being there... at the top of a tree... waiting... alone... with no friends to hang out with (can I call you a friend?). Aaall on your own until the portal opens again.” He looks aside for a moment “...” And back at me again. “With no one to be with you.” He repeats the head motion “...” “alone...” Wow... I wonder what he's implying, ahem. “Wouldn't you want to have someone...? ...Someone...keeping you company?” Yeah, yeah...
“...” I guess... “I-I guess I wouldn't want to be alon-?”
He rises to his knees. “That's what I thought! Do you want me to accompany you? Only if you want! But can I?” He clasped his hands together as if asking a favor.
“um...”
“Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?” He approaches, dragging his knees on the ground.
I'm starting to miss personal space. “Okay! Okay, alright...”
“REALLY?” He started hopping and jumping around me. “OH, ohoho hO! Great! Oh, there are TONS of things we could do! Like... Like...!” He moves faster, doing bigger and bigger flips and jumps, it almost seems that he is very light, as if the breeze of air lifted him. “We could paint and decorate trees! Or we can also paint on rocks! Or paint leaves! Or paint us! Oh! We can tell stories! I'm very good at making shadows and puppets.” He moves from place to place with each sentence he says. “We can also play something!” It's moving so fast all I can see is the wind and the leaves it stirs up as it moves. “Anything! Whatever you want!” Finally he stopped in front of me half crouched. “What do ya say?! Hmm! Friend!?”
“Don't... call me like that.” Makes me feel awkward.
“Oh...why not-? Oh true, true! How silly, I don't know your name! What do you call yourself, potential friend?”
“...”
“...” “Aren't... you gonna tell me your name?”
I twist the bag strap “Depends...” I must say I'm a little skeptical about this. “Are there any consequences for telling you my name?”
“...Consequences...?”
“Like... I don't know... Mmm-by telling you my name I become your possession and cannot regain my freedom until... certain conditions are met...”
“...”
“...”
“Why- how-? Where did you get that from!?” It did sound a bit stupid when I said it out loud.
“I dunno- that's what they say in old children's stories about elves and fairies!” I just hope the embarrassment isn't showing on my face.
“Really?” I could feel his deadpan expression behind the mask.
I shrugged.
“...” “Okay... Oh, what if I tell you my name first? Will you tell me yours? It's only fair, I'm Sun!”
“...”
“Can I know your name now?” He asked expectantly.
“...How do I know you're not trying to trick me?”
“...” I must be driving him crazy with this “The only thing I can do with your name is treasure it in my memory.” He put his hands together as if he was carefully holding something and brought them to the forehead of the mask. I gave him a distrustful look. It doesn't seem like it made him desist “Please?”
I grip at my worn out bag strap “...” “ Fern...” I ended up murmuring.
“Hmm? Fern? OH, I like it!” “Sounds like FRIEND.” He emphasized the last word by making a gesture like jazz hands, leaning to the side and moving his head closer to me.
“Yeah... I think you are missing a couple of letters.”
He straightened his posture again. “Nope, I don't think so!”
“You're still not my friend.”
“Oooowwwwwnnnnnggghhh” He lowers his head dramatically until it practically touches the ground “nnnnnnngggghh, alright!” And cartwheels to stand up again “So... what will it be?”
“Hm?”
He straightened his posture and puts his arms on his hips “We have plenty of time, ya? What do you wanna to do?”
“I don't know, what do you want to do-?” Bad mistake.
“Come with me!”
“aaAAAAA-!” Before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged through the woods. We visited several places and he offered me an activity to do in each of them.
—
Sun took me to a place where the trees were full of colorful paint “We practice painting on the trees here!” He said.
“Ah.” That explains the crossed out lines and the repeated imperfect shapes. By the look of it is also where he tests the quality of the paint.
“Do you want us to paint something!?”
“Not really...”
“Oh, would you prefer it to be on a rock?”
“Nah.”
“...And in star leaves-?”
“I don't want to paint, Sun.”
“Oh... Well, I can show you more places!”
“OkayyEEEEEE-” And I'm being dragged away again.
—
He brought me to another area of the forest, the ground here seemed more leveled. Not a single tree was straight, all of them were twisted and even seemed to be hollow. “How about playing something!? Like hide and seek-! No, wait, I can’t let you out of my sight.” He mumbled at the end “And chase?! We can climb a tree and see who reaches the top first! We have a place full of vines and it's perfect for swinging- and jumping from one tree to another-!”
“I don't... really want to move a lot…” With the way he runs without getting tired and me, who doesn't exercise... he would let me dead.
“Oh... well, theeen-”
—
We arrived at a place full of vegetation and humidity. Sun seemed quite excited... “This place is full of insects! We can look for cool bugs!”
“Mmmmmnoooo... I don't want to.” I had to tell him, trying to show as little disinterest as I could.
“You don't like them?” He sounded a little disappointed hearing my reaction.
“No, I do like them, some of them, but I don't like to touch them.” And I'm terrified of them flying into my face.
“Oh, well, it's okay!” He said brushing it off and we moved on to the next stop.
—
“I know that bird!” He stopped us on the way to point at a robin high up on a branch.
“ah.” I said as I removed leaves from my hair and clothes, and checked that I still had my glasses.
“He's a little rascal!”
“...” I think the bird is making us the equivalent of 'mooning'.
—
“Look fish-! Oh, they're gone…” The noise must have scared them away “We can go find more places to look at them if you want!”
“...” “...no, pass...”
“…”
—
“Look at this stick!” Sun had suddenly sprinted past me, picked up something from the ground, and came back just as fast, showing me the stick as if it were a sword.
“oh.” It's a cool stick, must admit it.
“Do you want to look for more sticks!?”
“No...”
“oh...” He looked at the ground in disappointment.
“Why would we go looking for sticks? There are all over the ground.” Specifically, in this area the ground was all sticks. We are literally just stepping on sticks right now. I don't see the ground.
“Variety!” Sun said pointing at the ground with both hands. A branch is heard falling in the distance.
—
“That's a deer!” He pointed at the deer passing nearby. The deer stopped to look at us.
“Yeah, I see.”
“We call 'em Adoquín!”
“...Why is it called Adoquí-?”
*THUMP!*
“…”
The deer smacked itself against a tree when trying to run away. It stands still for a minute, processing the hit, looks at a side and then the other, then runs off again but this time avoiding the tree.
Another *thump!* is heard in the distance.
“...” Alright.
—
“Do you wannaaaa look for pine cones? There will be some fallen around here. Oh! We can also look for mushrooms!”
I keep saying no to everything he suggests and it doesn't look like he's going to run out of ideas to pass the time. In fact, he's very insistent that we do something. I guess at some point I'll have to say yes to something. “...” “...okay...”
“Hmm?! Okay? Okay to what?” His exaggerated surprise offends me but I don't blame him.
“To... I don't know, pine cones?”
“...You don't look very convinced.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“OKAY! On the hunt for pine cones then!” I startle a little at the sudden shout. He makes a pose pointing in a direction, as if he were leading an expedition.
He takes me through the forest looking for pine cones. We aren't finding many, especially me who's not paying any interest. He tries encouraging me to put more effort into it but I keep looking at my boots.
We passed near a shingle river. I find a pebble at my feet and bend down to pick it up and take a better look. It's like a bluish gray, it has some reddish lines in the shape of waves, it feels good to the touch.
I hear the soft tinkling of a bell and feel a shadow fall beside me. “You like pebbles?” Sun is crouched next to me with his arms full of pine cones.
“…” I nod.
We go down to the river and spend some time collecting pebbles with curious shapes or small details of colors, lines, spots, etc. He comes over to show me one every time he finds weird shapes.
“…”
*rin* This time he's hunched over resting his hands on his knees. “You look… a little down.”
“…”
“Hey... we can do something else if you're tired of the pebbles.”
“...” I drop the pebbles I was looking at on the ground.
“...” He turns his gaze from me to the sky. It hasn't gotten late enough to be getting dark, but it's been a while between the walks we've taken (dragging me from here to there), looking for pine cones and then pebbles in the river. He looks back at me. “Oh, I know! Can I take you to one last place? A better place than the ones I've shown you!”
“…” I got up from the ground and waited for him to start leading to follow him.
We enter the increasingly thick forest. The trees are taller and bigger, in fact, I start to see platforms and bridges lying between the trees, I even see small shanties in them.
“Wait here!” He takes a run and jumps onto one of the trees with bridges. He takes three steps running up the tree, with a jump he pushes himself off and climbs with agility until he reaches the platform and climbs on it. “Just a moment!” It can't be seen from here but I can faintly hear some squeaks. I have no idea of what he's doin-
*rush*
“........eh?”
A rope.
A rope has fallen. At the level of my head.
“.......”
What?
…
He said he knew a better place.
No. It can't be this.
“Is it at a good height?! Can you reach it?!” He says...
It can't be.
A better place.
He can't be referring to this.
A better place.
A better place. A better place. A better place. A better place.
“Can you put your foot in?!”
“..........” For some reason what he said throws me off. “WAT-?”
“Can you put your foot in the loop and hold on to the rope so I can pull you up!?”
“..............”
“You can't climb trees, can you?! ...or you can?"
… “...” Oh “....It's...It's too high!”
“Okay!” Squeaks are heard and the rope descends to the ground.
I put my foot into the rope as he told me and hold on to it. “O-okay...!”
“Are you ready!?”
“Yes!”
“Okay!”
He begins to pull up the rope (which doesn't tighten around my foot as it supports my weight) and helps me up to the platform. (That's what it was for, obviously, what else would he want? I'm such an...) “Come on!” He says cheerfully, as always, and takes me over the bridges. “You seem tense... Don't tell me you're afraid of heights!”
“S-something like that... it's nothing.” He tilts his head at that but he says nothing. I have an unpleasant sensation in my throat.
We arrived at a high place with a view of waterfalls, I can't see above the trees. We sat on one of the bridges, resting our arms on the rope that serves as a railing and letting our legs hang off the bridge. I've thought about taking out the sketchbook to draw... but I don't really feel like it right now, so I just quietly observe the landscape. It is a better place, yeah.
…
I feel watched. I turn to look at him ...Of course he was looking at me. I don't even know whether to say something or keep quiet. ...I decide... not to say anything and look to the front.
“You... aren't very talkative, huh.”
“…”
“Not that it's a bad thing! Many people who have come here weren't very talkative at first either.” More people...
“...” “I have… nothing to talk about.” I don't want to talk.
“...” “Well, I do.”
“…”
“If it's okay with you, of course.” He laughed. Although something tells me that he is going to talk anyway.
“…”
“...” “What brings you to the forest?”
“...” Really? “I got lost.”
“Yeah, I already know!” He says between laughs “But what made you get lost?”
“...” “There was a group of kids I didn't want to get close to and I decided to go into the woods to lose them.” He makes a 'hum' sound and looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue “And... I ended up getting myself lost...”
“...” “Only that?”
“...” “Well, yeah.” What do you mean 'oNlY tHaT'?
“...Mmm...” He places his hand on the chin of the mask.
“...” “What?”
“Nothing!” “...” “You know? You're the first human to visit the forest in a loooong time. For several cycles now…”
“Cycles?”
“Mhm” He nods.
“...What are cycles?”
Sun points to the sky “The turns that the Moon makes in the sky!” He emphasizes by rotating his arm in the air. It's pointing right at the Moon that's visible in the sky.
“Oh...” He uses the lunar cycles to know what day he's in, makes sense. “...” “So no one has been here in a while.”
“That's what I said! Well no, but yes!”
“A-and so the humans who came are still here? Have they been here all this time?”
“Yeah...! Well, no!” He paused. “They're gone!”
“What do you mean they're-?” He didn't let me finish the question.
“They are gone! They 'left'!” It sounded like he had given this answer many times already.
“What do you mean they left-?”
“They 'left'!”
“...” “...You mean...they disappear-?”
“Nope!” “...” “Something like that!” “…” “Mmmore or less…” He hesitated between one answer and another.
It seemed worthless to ask about the missing people. “...okay.” “Can I ask you-?”
“You can ask me anything!” A hint of nervousness escaped his tone.
“...okay. What is this forest?”
“My home! And the home of many other animals.”
“...” “Alright, and... how many are you...? How many of you live here? I mean. You have taken me everywhere and we haven't seen anyone of your…” I make a pointing gesture, spinning my hand around in the air. He can't be human, it doesn't look like he is. “...” “Honestly, I don't know what you are.”
“...” “There's only me... And someone else!” He looks away, as if trying to hide something.
“Oh... and who's that someone?”
“Oh! N-no, don't worry! He’s… just a friend… But it’s not important that you meet him or anything!” He brushes it off making a gesture with his hand. “Uh-um- How about we talk about you!? huh? What things do you like? Earlier, since you said no to everything, I thought you didn't like ANYTHING!” He continued talking without letting me respond. “I didn't know what to do if I ran out of ideas. I started to worry! But at least you're not one of those who spend all day shouting and threatening with a weapon in hand, ahaha...” He let out a nervous laugh.
“Um-”
“Well, you ran away screaming, yes.” He began to gesticulate widely as he complained “Like everyone-! No, not like everyone, some don't run, but those who, apart from running and screaming, attack you...! I mean...!” Something tells me he wasn't going to shut up and I was already half listening. “First they throw rocks at my head, then they insult me and run away. And I have to run after them because I can't just leave a human running around alone! No! I can't! Not in this forest! Anything could happen to them! But they never let me warn them!” He sounded tired. “And when I get them to stop running away from me, they throw things at me again and yell before demanding me to tell them where are they and how to get out of here, and when I explain it, they yell at me even more and accuse me of lying!” He turns to look at me with his hands pointing to his chest. “What reason would I have to lie?!” I don't know if he hasn't noticed or if he's ignoring the deapan I responded with. “UGH! I don't know what to do with those! But anyhow... I'm so glad we found something to do in the end!
“¿eh?” I snap out of my thoughts. It seems that now he is directing the conversation to me.
“The pebbles!” He sits turning his body towards me, leaving one single leg hanging from the bridge and the other resting on it. He takes out of his pocket some of the pebbles that he had been collecting with me. “I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't want to look for rocks. Maybe because you didn't want to paint them before... You left them back in the river in the end tho, I thought you would keep some.”
“Ah... I don't know. I didn't think I could take them with me.”
“You can keep some of mine!”
“No, it's okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You suuuuure??” He insist.
“Yeees.”
He puts a pebble very close to my face “Suuuuuuuure?” Each 'u' sounding higher than the last.
“...” I push the pebble away from my face “Yeeeees.”
“mmmh... Okay! But I hope you don't regret it later when you don't have a cool rock like these and think 'Oh man, I could have a cool rock right now!'.” After a bad impression of me, he keeps the rocks in his pants. “So... Besides pebbles, what else do you like? Mm? I haven't been able to deduce much from today.”
“Don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know!? Oh! Is it a secret?” He approaches and starts to whisper, putting his hands to the mask's mouth “I won't tell anyone, promise.”
“No. I don't know.” I looked to the side. “I can't think of anything... so suddenly.”
“ooow...” He slumps a little over the railing, looking sad.
“…” I hesitate whether to say something or not “...Drawing...”
“Mmm?!” He no longer seems sad.
“And listening to music, I guess.” “It's... all I do... most of the time.”
“Really!? Oh! I also like drawing! And music! But is that really all you do all day? Don't you do other kinds of things? Like reading! Or writting. Don't you go out for a walk or play with your friends?” I wrinkle my face at that last bit and he tilts his head in confusion.
“I don't go out.” “I have comics, but I rarely read.”
“Comics?”
“Um... They are stories but instead of narrating what happens there are drawings and only what the characters say is written.”
“...It's a book with drawings?”
“Yeah, but with a lot of drawings on each page, from start to finish.”
“WOAH.” He sounded perplexed. “That's drawing A LOT.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Ahh, I'd love to see what they look like.” He rested his arm on the railing to hold his head in his hand “Too bad I can't…”
“I didn't bring them anyway.”
“Do you normally carry them around?”
“No, it's just that I didn't bring them to the village with me, I left them at home.”
“...” “Oh!” It seems that something has clicked on him. “You are not from the village.”
“No, I'm from a more urban area. My family used to come to the village every year in the summer, but we stopped coming. Now it seems that we are trying to get back into the habit.” I sighed.
“Why did you stop coming?”
“...That's personal.”
“Oh... okay.” He let a minute of awkward silence pass. “Hey, I can bring some books that I have at home! I think you might be interes-!” He looks away from me to the sunset behind us, the sun is almost gone. “-ted...” I look at the sunset too and then at him with confusion. “...” “...oh...oh-OH, Oh-no!” He stands up abruptly causing the bridge to shake slightly. What could have he seen? “We have to move!” He extends a hand to help me up. “We have to start moving!”
I get up in a hurry on my own, ignoring his hand. “O-okay, to where?”
“Come, run!” Once again he grabs me by the arm and leads me over the bridges between the trees until we reach a tree hut. It's small and dark, it looks like a small shelter. He opens the door and enters “You'll spend the night here, stay inside, do not go out, try to hide well and don't open the windows or doors, okay? Here, there are some blankets. I'll come back later.”
“Wait wait wait! What? What do you mean you'll come back later? What's happening? Why do I have to hide-!?”
“Sssh-ssh-sh” He grabs me and covers my hand with his, his left hand resting on the back of my right hand. He begins to speak in a calmer tone, with a voice that I had not heard him use until now. “It's okay, nothing happens. I have to go, I'll come back, but I can't stay now. You hide, try to rest, I'll be back, I promise.”
“...” I take my hand away from his. “Okay.” “I'll stay, but don't take too long.” Please, I don't want to be here alone.
“Yes. I'll be back.” He affirmed one last time. I watch him run away and disappear among the trees and undergrowth. I enter the small shelter to inspect it.
*TAP TAP TAP* *PLOK* *TAP TAP FOOSSSH! *
…? A noise comes from behind me. I turn around and there's a pebble on the floor.
…
Okay.
I take out my phones flashlight to see better inside the house. There are what appear to be some trunks, small cabinets, and a trapdoor in the floor, It seems that there are corners and blind spots for the windows where the little moonlight that enters through the cracks cannot reach. It's freezing cold and I haven't brought my jacket. I leave the bag on the floor against the wall, I cover myself with the blanket and curl up in a ball in the most hidden corner I can find. I'm tired, I want to sleep, but I can't close my eyes.
…
—
It's been a few hours now.
…
I can't sleep, I simply can't.
…
It doesn't look like he's coming back.
*creek*
…?
*rin*
*tap tap, creek*
Sun?
“S-...” I pause before saying a word, I have the feeling I shouldn't speak. I remain silent and wait.
*tap, tap, tap, creeeeeek, tap*
*rin dirrin*
If it were Sun he would have already let me know it is him. That or he's playing a prank on me which isn't funny, but I'd better stay silent. From the shadow I look at the windows. I notice movement through the cracks, something has just passed through the wall next to me.
*dirriring dirring*
I cover myself more with the blanket, back against the wall, I stay as still as I can, I leave a gap between the blankets and the floor to see. A red glow sneaks through the cracks in the window and scans the room.
…
The glow is gone.
*tap, tap, rin, tap, dirring, tap, tap*
It's on the roof.
…
*tap, tap, tap...*
It moves again.
*rin *
…
It sounded on the other side of the wall.
…
…
“nghehe...”
It laughed. Why did it laugh? Whatever is on the other side of the wall just let out a laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck and all over my back rise.
…
Oh no.
Oh no no no no no no no no.
I have to move. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.
*creeek*
It came from the door. It's trying to get in.
*rin*
The trapdoor.
*rin dirring*
Where was the trapdoor?
*creek creeeek*
I crawl across the floor making the minimum noise, carefully feeling the floor, looking for the edge of the door.
*tap tap ring dirring*
…!
I found it. I open it carefully. It's too high. I'm at a very high altitude, I don't know if I'll be able to go down.
*rin, creeek...*
…
Fuck it. I slip through the gap quietly, closing it slowly, but that doesn't stop the door from creaking. I cling to the bark of the tree-
…
I left my bag. If it comes in and see it it'll know for sure that I have been there-
…
It doesn't matter now. I have to focus on getting down from the tree without killing myself. My fingers hurt and I can't put my foot down properly because of the soles of my boots. I feel like I'm going to slip at any moment. Somehow I make it to the ground. Still attached to the tree, I look up at the house. I don't see it-
…
A shadow appears from behind the tree. I press myself against the tree and hold my breath. It's looking for something. When he doesn't seem to look I move to a nearby tree, he moves to another tree, I move to the next, and the next, and the next. We continue like this until I start to get further and further away from him. When I think I've lost him I start running. I hide behind a tree to catch my breath.
…
I slowly peek out from behind the tree.
*rin*
…
It sounded above me.
…
I don't look up, I run.
“nnghehee...” He laughs.
He gives me a few seconds advantage before coming after me. The chase begins.
I run forward as much as I can, I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't look back, there's no time for that. I hear him laughing like a madman as he moves from left to right, from one tree to another, crawling on the ground, trying to confuse me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake to catch me.
“Ah-” I trip. As soon as I fall to the ground I get up, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees, falling again, my nerves not letting me stand up.
“Nnhehehhehe...” Asshole. He has stopped running, he approaches by walking. I try to keep as much distance as my hands and legs allow me to move. I search desperately with my hand for something on the ground to throw. Finally my hand finds something.
I throw a rock at him “AGH!”
The rock passes by him, flying one or two meters away from him. He hasn't even moved, he didn't move a single muscle to avoid it, he just watches me still from where he is. I hear the nearby *pof* of the rock falling to the ground.
“...”
“...”
…
I get up and run. He grabs my leg and I fall to the ground again. He won't let me get up, every time I try he throws me to the ground. I struggle, I kick, but I don't break free from his grip. He never stops laughing, he is enjoying this. He drags me closer to him, no matter how much I twists, he doesn't let go. “ACKH-!...Hhhh-hh...-hh-h...” He grabs me by the neck, red pupils stared at me, I'm looking straight into his crescent moon mask (or waning, I don't know. Do you think I care right now?). He raises his free hand and his veins begin to glow a platinum color that extends to his fingertips. The hand approaches my face, I don't know what it's going to do to me, I'm scared, I don't want to look. I close my eyes, cover my face with my hands. I wait.
…
…
…?
Nothing's happening. It stopped. Why?
“Mun, nïe.” I hear Sun's voice. I open my hands a little to see what's going on. Indeed, it is Sun, several meters away from us... He looks exhausted. The one with the moon mask stares at him for a moment, until he decides to look at me again while bringing his glowing veiny hand closer. “¡Mun!” The Moonman looks at Sun again “Fehreh.” He seems to speak another language, I don't understand what he says.
“...” “Nïe” For the first time I hear him say something else besides laughing. Even though I can't understand him.
“Fïer pehgïer.” Sun responds.
“...” Moonman remains silent again.
“Bïelïe óubseh góuh...” Sun continues.
“Móu txehb móunsuvïe.” The Moon responds.
“Lïe bóu ¿Sóundïe mïesugïeb fehreh nïe txehtehrlïe?”
…
The air feels tense. Probably because of the hand grabbing my neck.
“¿Zkaóu fuóunbehb txehtóur tkaehnvïe nïe bóueh mehb zkaóu ïesreh rehuh óunsóurrehveh óun leh suóurreh?” Longest sentence I've heard him say so far.
“...” “Fïer óubseh góuh.” “...” “Vóuyehmóu óuntehrdehrmóu vóu óulleh” Sun takes a step forward “Nïe suóunóu fïer zkaóu ehtehkehr ehbu” Another step forward “Nïe sóunóumïeb fïer zkaóu txehtóurlóub... óubsïe” Another step “Óullïeb bïelïe óubsehn... fóurvuvïeb.”
“...” There's no response from the moon man.
“Behkehb tïemïe óub óubïe.”
“...”
…
The hand that grabbed my neck now grabs my shirt and yanks it. I grab his wrist as he pulls me to my feet and drags me to Sun, making me stumble. He throws me against him. Sun catches me before I fall over.
“Ska óubpkaóurhïe óub óun gehnïe.” The moon says something as he walks past. Sun puts a hand on his shoulder before letting him go, there's a pause between the two. The Moonman disappears into the trees. Wind and leaves are heard passing by.
…
He's gone. I feel dizzy. I fall down.
—
…
…
…
A faint light begins to seep through the cracks, illuminating enough to wake me up and make me open my eyes, I look around. I see my bag propped against the wall. I'm at the shelter where Sun left me.
…
My body aches, I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, it feels like I've been sleeping on the hard floor. No, wait, there are some blankets underneath me... It's still too hard to sleep well, either that or as I said, it shouldn't help me at all that everything hurts. After a while of staring at the ceiling I try to sit up. I emphasize trying. With every slight effort a pained moan escapes me.
“Oof...” Hurts.
*creek, tap tap tap tap*
Those wood creaks bring back bad memories from last night (which by the way, I'm alive, wow, I just realized), I can't help but cringe at every noise, I hear footsteps approaching, I try to move but the stinging pain prevents me from it.
*creek... *
The door opens.
Triangular shapes appear through the door followed by orange earth tones. “…Oh…!” “Early bird!” Thank god it's Sun and not the other one, or something worse “I didn't expect you up this early!” He says laughingly.
“ah?”
“How are you feeling?” He walks in. When he sets foot inside I lean back, towards the wall. “...” I don't really know why I did that. Sun stands at the door showing confusion with his usual head tilt. “...Arrr...re you okay, Fern?”
“...” I became tense suddenly. I really don't know still if I can trust him? He hasn't done anything to me yet but that doesn't mean that I can trust him. I don't know if he plans to do something with me like whatever that other one, the moon one, was going to do last night. “...ehh...hhh...h...” I can't get a word out, I'm afraid to ask.
“Mm?”
“...” I don't know what to say to him. My eyes go somewhere else.
…
He enters further into the house, ignoring that I keep my distance from him, leaves a bag he was carrying on the floor and begins to open the windows, letting in the little light of the dawn that is just beginning. He kneels on the floor in front of me with the bag. “Are you hungry?” He opens the bag and takes out an apple “Do you like apples?”
“...”
“No?”
“...”
“Um... I also brought berries... (It's what I had on hand coming here) There are... different types, you can choose” He brings the bag closer to me. I move further away. “uhhh...”
“...” I want to leave.
“You don't like them either...?”
“...” I don't want to eat. I want to leave.
“...”
“*snif... *”
“u-um...!”
“...*snif* *sob*...” I started crying out of nowhere.
“Ahhh...! D-do- don't cry! Ah-I-Um- Ca-can go find other things you might like-!”
I felt ashamed for crying and I put my hands to my face trying to wipe away the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. “*hic, sniff, snif *” I looked away in an attempt to cover my face. I ended up looking at the floor, letting my hair act as a curtain.
“I can go in a moment!” Sun was already getting up.
“...w-want to leave...” I managed to get a murmur out.
“...W-what? Um...”
“...” *hic, hic *
“O-okay, um... If you aren't hungry... -we can do something else- uh- we can go look for rocks like yesterday in the river!”
“...” I don't want to do anything “...want to leave...”
“O-or we can do something else! Ah-bah-b-b-b- W-won't you like to go draw??! Somewhere, some landscape?! Wherever you want! We can draw together! If you prefer we can look for animals instead of landscapes!”
“...leave...want to...go... *hic, snif *”
“¡D-don't n- uh! ¡L-let's... um- let's not- uh!” He no longer knew how to order his words “H-hey, ¿Why don't we go to-?” He extends his hand towards my arm.
“I want to go home...”
He stops before touching me and removes his hand. “...” “...home?” There is a pause. He remains silent and unmoving. He finally speaks “Do you want…?” His tone became more serious.
“...”
“...to... go see the portal?” I look up slightly, I can't see through the tears and the fogged lenses of my glasses.
“...” I nod my head.
—
…
We didn't walk far until the red began to become visible. He brought me back to the portal. The same plain of red leaves and stone arch in the center of it all, as yesterday.
…
Sun has been quiet the entire time.
He advances towards the portal and stands facing it. He turns. “Come.” He extends his hand towards me. “You can pass through.”
“...”
I advance towards the portal. I stop before crossing. If it doesn't take me back home, what do I do? I don't want to stay.
A breeze begins to come out of the portal. The breeze turns to wind, the leaves rise, they pass through us. It's the same thing that happened yesterday when I went to cross. I turn to face Sun. Motionless, he looks back at me, the leaves pause in the air for a second as if time has stopped, the wind changes. From where the wind and leaves came now they come in, they push me towards the portal. I finally cross it.
…
Am I in the forest I know? I turn to look at Sun who stayed behind in the portal. “...Sun?” He's not there. I look around. He's not here. I've already crossed the portal, he must have left.
I notice a sudden draft pass by me. It's soft, like someone walking past you. I turn towards the forest, I have to start moving, I don't want to be here another minute.
...The air current that I noticed has lifted some leaves, they reach the trees, between them the wind does something strange, it forms a transparent silhouette. It looks like Sun, I can barely see him but I could swear it's him. The wind figure raises its hand and makes a gesture, it wants me to follow it. When I approach it turns around and walks into the forest, leaving a trail of leaves behind it. I follow the trail of the air current. Sometimes it stops to look at me, making sure I'm still following it. The red-leafed trees and the paintings disappear from view the farther we go. We crossed the forest until we arrived at the entrance of the town, near my house. There is no one on the street. If I walked into the house and pretended nothing had happened, officially no one would have noticed my absence.
I'm not one hundred percent sure if the wind figure that guided me is Sun or not, but I should at least thank him for bringing me back.
…
The air current has dissipated before I turn around. I look around, there's no one.
…
…
…
I enter the house, go up to my room and throw the bag on the floor. I go to the bathroom to wash. …I feel something strange in my hands but I couldn't say what. Doesn't matter. I change my clothes and get into bed, the tiredness of the previous night makes my body succumb immediately and I fall asleep instantly.
—
…
…
…
“ah...!” I wake up with my lungs begging for air. I need a moment to calm my breathing. I look at the clock without lifting my head from the pillow.
…
It is 12 midday. I rub my eyes and from my eyes I move to my face. I'm still tired. My body still aches. I stare at the ceiling.
…
My bag. I reach out to pick it up from the floor, making strange positions so as not to get out of bed.
I open it and search in the pockets. The bell. I put the bell to my ear. “...” I shake it.
*rin, diring diring*
“...”
I open it.
…
It's empty.
#my writing#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf sun#fnaf moon#fanfic#forest elves au#the forest on the other side#oc#selfinsert#platonic#sun & selfinsert#moon & selfinsert
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there was a guy on /m/ some years ago asserting that ttgl is getter arc fix-it fit (semi-true) and more specifically that? lord genome? viral? were expies of kamui
and like i think the whole conspiracy theory is a lil insane and i don't really believe it, sometimes looking at viral tho it's really like. that's kamui lol.
#im so sorry to my normie moots who see me talking about mecha and it's literally never anything normal#fwiw yeah ttgl is heavily influenced by getter robo (i have eyes)#but i don't think it's supposed to be a 1-to-1 au#the vibes of like. choosing whether to submit or to fight destiny#characters who toe the line between antagonistic and ally#pseudo royalty#and part beast/human#get scrambled and redistributed#so u go from half dino antihero prince close to the mc to half beast royal enforcer who becomes mcs foil
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What We Do in the Land of Ooo
🧛♂️ What We Do in the Shadows x Adventure Time crossover AU! ⚔
Finn Mertens in place of Guillermo de la Cruz
Marceline Abadeer in place of Nadja of Antipaxos
Bonnibel Bubblegum in place of Laszlo Cravensworth
Jake the dog in place of Colin Robinson
Vampire King in place of Nandor The Relentless
Betty Grof in place of The Guide
The Lich in place of Baron Afanas
Peppermint Butler in place of Wallace the Necromacer
Simon Petrikov in place of Derek
BMO in place of Nadja Doll (her old consciousness uploaded or something was an idea I had)
Marshall Lee & Gary Gumball/Prince in place of Sean & Charmaine
#I want to clarify that I don't have any plans to write this out as some sort of fanfic.#I also don't have any plans to draw actual redesigns for any of these characters.#this is all an indefinite WIP; anyone who wants to make content about the idea please tag me please I'd to see it!#also want to mention that this was somewhat inspired by recent fionna and cake content!#I suppose this AU could take place in the land of Ooo or it could take place on staten island but I was thinking land of Ooo#up to yall though if you wanna sketch any ideas from this lol#I was just trying to find images that somewhat fit the character they're in place of if you're curious as to why I chose the images I did!#also this isn't going with the nandermo stuff to clarify before people are like hey this is gross; no read the tags first; read my rambles!#these aren't 1-to-1 character crossovers; obviously I'd want to take some liberties with each of them if I were to put more effort into it!#vampire bonnie bubblegum would be cool to see! it doesn't need to make sense; we're having fun with it here! Vampire Betty Grof too!#Finn could also be an adult here if y'all want; I wasn't thinking too hard about this; just popped into my head & wanted to jot stuff down!#I'd also be curious to hear what adventure time characters you'd put in the roles of the wwdits ones; replacing mine or ones#that i didn't end up listing! I'd love to see a vampire Simon Petrikov & Finn Mertens though if anyone wants to draw that. anyway thats it!#mine#op#wwdits#what we do in the shadows#adventure time#adventure time fionna and cake#fionna and cake#adventure time spoilers
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> be a robin buckley fan
> be lesbian
> project on robin
> look up "internalized homophobia robin buckley" on tumblr because it's cathartic
> 3/4 of the posts are about st3ddie or just about steve
#saw one in which steve was like ''no robin you don't understand! i have never been loved! i don't know how that feels like!''#i have several grips about that interpretation#going from the fact that's not true (dustin is clearly a big steve fan + robin herself cares about him deeply)#to the fact he probably wouldn't be introspective enough to voice his emotions this concisely not to mention he'd probably wouldn't take#a moment to realize he's never felt loved if that were the case. i mean. he could think that. when he's like 35 and more in touch with his#inner world. 19yo steve can't even get the hint that hitting on a girl who's already clearly taken (nancy) is wrong so like i don't expect#him to be that smart#but i can live with people having takes i don't agree with. my opinion doesn't have to be everyone else's opinion if you see steve that way#it fine#what bothered me was the fact he was saying this to a lesbian living in the 80s lmao#who tells him that 1) her whole life has been an error 2) she doesn't think he'd want to be close to her if he truly knew her and 3)#3) is paralyzed by fear of social suicide if she dares believe for even a second that the girl she likes may like her too#like i dont need people to do deep dives into robin lore and quote from memory lines from Surviving Hawkins abt robin feeling like she's#rotten inside. not supposed to have friends. feeling like something is wrong with her and that pushes people away etc etc#the fact that she's a lesbian should tell you enough abt who has the biggest chances of being loved 😭#also bothered me that it showed up when looking up posts abt internalized homophobia because?? where's the internalized homophobia therw#unless it's gay steve feeling bad abt it in an AU (as if canon robin didn't go through it)#like look im not bothered to find steve-centric content in the robin tag cos people are gonna tag her in posts mentioning her.#she's his friend.#but there are barely any posts at all about robin's internalized homophobia. like i saw 2 or 3. compared to all the steve or steddie ones#where's the love for my babygirl 😭😭#anti steddie#not really but y'know i don't wanna bother anyone#edit: the bit about there being like 3 posts on robin w internalized homophobia isn't exactly true. there are a few. but they still feel#drowned in st3ddie posts#like something isn't right here
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“Bear, you’re hands are shaking.” Tim says abruptly.
“Hmm?” Bernard hums noncommittally, “Must be from the cold.”
“Bear,” Tim says with a little more force, “your hands are shaking.”
The entire family has stopped to watch them now.
Bernard smiles, tense around the edges, “I know. It must be from the cold.”
Tim turns towards his family, “Can you guys wait outside for a little? I need to talk to my husband over here.”
The family exchanges slow glances with each other and surprisingly it’s Jason who agrees first.
“Well, c’mon.” Jason says, when he sees that the rest of them haven’t moved, “They’re having a domestic squabble and they asked us to leave. Get moving.”
Quietly, the family exits out the hospital room, Bruce shutting the door behind him. The minute they’re all in the hallway, the family breaks out into hushed whispers.
“What do you think they’re arguing about?” says Steph.
“Dunno, seemed important.” Duke responds.
“Yeah, no shit.” Jason says smirking, “That’s why I bugged their room.”
“Jason,” Bruce admonishes but there’s no real rebuke behind it.
Jason pulls out his mini Bat-Tablet and starts fiddling with the frequencies. After a few short minutes, the static fades into recognizable words.
“...Bear tell me the truth.” Tim says, “Did you-”
“Lets not do this today, okay baby? You’re tired.” Bernard says.
“Ooooh, already starting off wrong.” Dick mutters.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me Bear. Tell me the truth. Did you-”
“Stop.” Bernard says, “You’re whole family is listening in.”
Jason nearly drops the Bat-Tablet, “What the fuck? How’d he know?”
“Do you really want this to be the way they find out?”
“About what?” Bruce mutters, fists clenching beside him.
“I don’t care! Tell me the truth!” Tim shouts, “Did you kill him?”
Silence falls over the hallway, the family trying process what they heard.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Steph asks.
“Duke, do you know anything about this?” Bruce asks, “You’re the only one who knew about Bernard before this whole incident. Any of this ringing a bell?”
Duke shrugs, “Not a clue, Uncle B. All I knew was that they were married, nothing else.”
“Tim, baby, don’t do this.” Bernard pleads, “Ask me anything else.”
"Answer my question, did. you. kill. him?"
Bernard is quiet for long enough that they think the connection fizzled out.
"He wasn't a good person." Bernard says quietly.
"Was he a bad person?" Tim counters.
"...No." Bernard admits.
"So just average then. Not good and not bad."
"He didn't have anyone waiting for him."
"Weird justification, still murder." Duke murmurs.
"Did you kill him, Bear?" Tim asks tiredly. "Answer me or I will call Nikhil."
"Tim, baby, you're the smartest person I know. You already have an answer to your question."
"He wants to hear it from you," Cass whispers.
"I want to hear it from you." Tim says, unknowingly mimicking Cass.
Bernard says nothing and Tim sighs, "Alright then. Call Nikhil here."
There's rustling on the other side, presumably Bernard pulling out his phone. Someone says something but it's too faint to properly understand.
"He'll be here in a few." Bernard says and the feed lapses back into silence.
The family looks at each other.
"Okay Tim talks about Bernard killing like it's something he regularly does. Is Bernard some kind of hitman? Mercenary? Assassin?" Dick asks.
"No," Damian says, startling everyone, "He does not act like one."
("When did you wake up?" Jason asks.
"When you started playing the feed," Damian says.)
"Okay but nevermind what Bernard is, who did he kill?" Duke asks.
"It sounds like a regular person," Steph says, "But I don't think Bernard would kill a regular person. He doesn't seem like it."
"You don't know him." Bruce says, "We met him 3 weeks ago."
Their theorizing is interrupted by an Indian man walking towards them.
"How did you get here?" Bruce growls out, "This is a private floor."
"Hello, Sir. My name is Nikhil. I was sent for."
Bruce looks like he's going to keep interrogating the man so Dick pushes him aside and says, "Of course! They're in the first room on the right."
Nikhil bows his head briefly, "Thank you." And walks into the room.
Jason turns up the volume on the Bat-Tablet.
"Nikhil," Tim says tiredly, "It's so good to see you again. Sorry about cancelling dinner last month."
Dinner? Last month? Duke mouths.
"Young Master Bernard, Young Master Tim." Nikhil says.
Even Bruce looks confused now. Young Master?
"It's not a problem," Nikhil continues, "You weren't feeling well. We'll just have to have two dinners this month to make up for it."
“Of course, of course!” Tim says, “Can you answer a question for me Nikhil?”
“Of course.”
“Did Bernard kill Matthew Nicholls?”
Bruce sighs, the tension leaving his shoulders, “The man who shot Tim in the throat.”
“Oh my god,” Steph whispers.
Nikhil doesn’t respond right away.
“Go ahead, Nikhil. Tell him.”
Nikhil clears his throat, “Yes.”
Tim sucks in a breath.
“Three days ago, Young Master Bernard, Luka, and me, killed him.” Nikhil speaks as if he’s reading the weather forecast, “Luka and I, were on lookout. Young Master Bernard shot him.”
(Jason pointedly tries not to think about the fact that, Tim’s husband will kill someone for shooting Tim in throat but Bruce won’t even think about harsher sentences for the fucking Joker.
Whatever he’s not mad.)
“God fucking damnit, Bear. What the hell were you thinking?” Tim breathes out.
“And you, Nikhil, how could you let him do this?”
“NIkhil, didn’t make me do anything Tim. I chose it. I did it. I put the bullet in his head.”
“Bear, you’re a doctor! You can’t just fuckin’ kill people!”
“Young Master Tim,” Nikhil states sharply, “He was the head of the mob long before he was doctor. And even if that wasn’t the case, the Aquista mob does not take lightly to their members being targeted.”
“The Aquista mob?” Steph says, “But I thought that they died out during the gang wars...”
“Shows how much you know.” snorts Jason, “They’re one of the only few mobs that don’t work directly under me. But there’s no way Bernard’s the head. I met with them, once, when I was still on my, y’know.”
“Your murder spree, you mean?” Dick asks dryly.
“Yeah that. Anyway, when I met with them, they took me to their head. He was definitely not blonde, or young. It was some middle-aged man.”
“Must have been a decoy.” Bruce says, “Do they cause any trouble?”
“Not at all. They stick to themselves.”
“If you fools could be quiet, I’d be able to hear what Drake and Dowd are saying.”
They all tune back in.
“You said you understood.” Bernard says quietly, “When we got married, you said you understood. That it wasn’t gonna come between us.”
“And it isn’t!” Tim responds frustratedly, “But you can’t just go around killing people who hurt me.”
“And I don’t.” Bernard says, “Because if I did, half of the Gotham’s villains would be dead. But you don’t like it when I kill so I don’t do it.”
“Because I do everything you ask. You told me you didn’t want me becoming an EMT in Gotham, so I stayed in the military. You told me not to kill, so I do it as sparsely as I can. You gave yourself to me and asked me to put you back together, and so I did. As carefully as I could I put you back together.”
“You can’t blame me for killing Matthew Nicholls. You can’t.”
“Bear,” Tim starts.
“Do you know what the doctors told me when I finally arrived?” Bernard interrupts, “They said your heart stopped twice. That is was a miracle the bullet hit nothing vital. They said you had lost too much blood, that they were worried you weren’t gonna make it.”
“Was that you plan Tim? To make me a widower? To leave me behind?”
Bernard continues, voice thick with emotion, “There is no me without you. It’s too late for that. If I had came back and you were dead, I would’ve returned to Ebria that day and thrown myself on a live grenade.”
“Before anything else, Tim, I am your husband. Remember that. Before being the head of the mob, before being a Marine, before anything else, I am your husband. Remember that.”
“Bear,” Tim chokes out.
“God, fuck. I can’t do this right now.”
“Bear, wait!”
They hear the sound of the door closing and they all rush to look inconspicuous. Bernard walks past them without a second glance, wiping at his eyes.
#there's more#but i'm tired#and i kinda am not happy with this anyway#but whatever#it was supposed to be like 3rd pov#but i don't know how well that came out#also#a few notes ig#1) bear is in the military. the navy to be specific. he's a corpsman for the marines. it's basically a medic#2) duke calls bruce uncle b cause he's already got parents and idk i jsut don't think duke would see bruce like that#2) i think it's like uncle aaron and miles. but the rest of the batfam are def his siblings. the same way all bipoc children see#their cousins as their siblings#3) this is for the combat medic!bernard au#if u got questions#ask away!#tagging time#timbern#timber#dc#tim drake#bernard dowd#im not tagging anyone else#also there's def editing to be done but like that's why it's a wip
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@localvoidcat guess who went insane (it was me i went insane)
#tmc mad alternate au#tw: blood#tw: gore#tw: body horror#the mandela catalogue#ask to tag#foster's art tag#dave lee#he is missing like. half of his mustache bc of the eye sockets i feel bad now. sorry king#anyways: design notes! his hands are fused together in 'praise' and the red stuff coming for the halo is either 1 blood or#2 weird eye veins that act like puppet strings. also the eyes on the wings are all real eyes. he is NOT having a good time!!!#the basic idea is those angels that always sing praises of god yknow. seraphim i think. hold on. yeah its seraphim 👍#too lazy to draw it but he is supposed to have multiple wings lol. also i just fucked up the halo sorry#again these are just my ideas u don't have to use them if u don't want 👍
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It's all fun and games until it isn't
#dumb doodles#master m au#1) i think it'd be neat if he tagged along with the other minions sometimes not to help but to follow around the hero(s) to make them laugh#the princess and the green guy are doing this hero thing all WRONG#they should be happy and smile because that's what heros are supposed to DO#the turtle gets it; he seems thrilled as heck during all this#plus....there's just something extra annoying about greenie not enjoying being the main hero and being so /miserable/ looking....#2) ....does. anyone else think mario might... subconsciously internalize his image as a hero?#like; don't get me wrong; he loves helping others and is by default; a happy lil guy#but...it probably is a lot of pressure to be that constant rock and source of comfort#he's probably mostly okay with it and it probably doesn't cross his mind to be resentful or bitter about always being the hero#there's just this small small; easily ignorable part of him that's tired of it#that the mister m persona brings to the forfont in a kinda ugly way if you crack that mask hard enough#in other words; if he drops the smile; then i think his more bitter thoughts and feelings he hides both as mario and master m#are a bit more...obvious if that makes sense#ANYWAYS THOSE BOYS ARE GONNA NEED SOME THERAPY AFTER THIS#3) i. honestly forgot if the mimi fight was before or after the first mr. l one lmao#i just wanted to do some silly puns before the sucker punch#anyways; it's an au; luigi probably isn't collecting hearts in the proper order chaotic lil man he is#super mario#mario#luigi
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scrolling ao3 and saw a vtm/batfam crossover and suddenly im completely normal
#Shitpost#You don't understand this is better than a usual vampire au#THEY COULD BE A COTERIE. AND ALL. DIFFERENT CLANS#and like. If the Robins were turned as kids then they never grow up#aka bruce still has an adoption problem#also this like. Idea of like. 1. Upholding the masquerade (they must be anarchs??)#and 2. Using Batman and Robin to help them maintain their humanity and combat The Beast though#3. Like if they arent supposed to use their powers#idk man im like. Thinking#i read the words 'brujah jason todd' and suddenly went insane#ALSO torador dick grayson 10000%#You know bruce is a ventrue. also i think alfred would be his sire#alfred is like. ex camarilla just trying to have a peaceful life#Not sure what damian should be. Whatever Ras is probably. Ras is probably like. A primogen or CLOSE to being one.#so hes probably feelng The Torpor or whatever its called. The calling. Thing.#i sort of like the idea of Ras/Talia/Damian as gangrel i think#tim. Hmmmm. ventrue is too easy so hes got to be something else#Not sure how he wouldve been turned atm.#ok Tremere would be so good tho#Cass.... I want to say a very funky malk. Or a nostaferatu?#Steph im not sure.#Lol realizing that Damian is probably the most powerful of the family because hes probably like 5th gen???#like. Actually making Ras a primogen feels op so like. Cain-Primogen-RasSire-Ras-Talia-Damian#Thats considered 5th gen iirc because Cain is 0?#meanwhile like. Alfred could be like 8th ish#making Bruce 9th. And everyone else would be in the teens#oh maybe steph is a thinblood
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𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 [𝐍𝐎𝐓]!! | a JJK series
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!” “BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU!” It’s no secret to anyone on this Earth that you and Gojo cannot stand each other. Despite that, the world seems amused to put these two star-crossed lovers haters in the same space. Or worse, have them dwell deeper into their feelings for one another…
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - fluff + angst + misunderstandings - first kiss - virginity loss - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - secret relationships; implied friends-with-benefits - sex in shared rooms; college dorms + hotel suite - college parties - use of party games (seven minutes in heaven) - confessions - mention of drug/alcohol abuse - humor bc Gojo and college, lol - Gojo is a cocky, tactless sweetheart, nothing new - cameos of other characters + explicit content will be listed in their respective fics (within the contents).
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: when I say that I had this series planned out, I mean like mid-October last year planned out, lmaoo!! I'm honestly so psyched to do this series, as it's one of my favorite tropes + relatively short as I'll be busy irl, but we'll do what we can!! i was lowkey feeling this concept when i was re-watching Ranma 1/2 and figured it would work great with Gojo. So, here's to hoping i can properly execute my thoughts with this series, hehehe~
reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ❤︎ gif header made by me + fic dividers used are provided by the wonderful @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!
𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒊𝒓...
All the material below contains explicit 18+ content, so minors do not interact.
₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (Feb 1st)
The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?
₊˚⊹♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 (Feb 7th)
Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...
₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 (Feb 14th)
Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.
𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖!
Would you like to be tagged when these pieces get released? Lmk in the replies, please, and thank you!
𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫!!! Have made a list of the first 50 ppl who asked, but don't worry!! Check back for the stories when they're posted on their respective dates!!
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ These stories have been written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x you#gojo x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk fics#anime x reader
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EVENT OVER! THANKS EVERYONE WHO JOINED IN U ALL DID AN AMAZING JOB <3 SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT YEAR IN MARCH FOR #mARTch OR NEXT OCTOBER (2024) FOR A NEW SET OF PROMPTS!!!!!
OC-TOBER 2023 PROMPTS!!
general tag: #oc-tober / my prompts: #bweirdOCtober
F.A.Q:
Do I have to draw EVERY DAY?
NO! I highly encourage skipping as many days as you need to avoid burnout! There are 10 main days in the event (marked with a ⭐ star) that you can focus on if you don't feel up to doing every day, or you can choose your own adventure and just do the prompts you personally like!
Do I have to DRAW?
NO! You can also write fanfiction snippets, repost older art that fits the theme, tweet headcanons/backstory, roleplay in-character as your oc ... genuinely anything that fits the theme is OK!!
Can I start early?
YES! I understand some people work at a slower pace and might need a head start! So long as you wait until October to post it, you can start working as early as you need!
I missed the start of the event .. do I have to catch up?
NO! Please don't stress about days you missed, you're allowed to just skip to the current prompt!
RULES:
1. MAKE FRIENDS! The community is the best part of this event .. please try to follow new people, ask questions about ocs you like, compliment people's styles, ask friends to create with you, etc!
2. TAKE IT EASY! Skip a day if you're tired, busy or just not interested in the prompt. You don't have to catch up on it later. This is supposed to be fun, not work!
3. BE KIND! Please think about the people around you - don't give people unwarranted harsh criticism, content warn for themes/imagery in your work that could trigger someone, don't create anything hateful, etc
MORE:
text version / tips and ideas on bweird.art or below ↓
star = main prompts | no star = optional
INTRO WEEK
1: FAVE OC ⭐
-Which of your characters is your favourite right now?
2: NEW OC
-Who is your newest OC?
-Design a new OC right now
3: OLD OC ⭐
-Do you remember the first OC you ever made?
-Is there an OC you haven't drawn in a long time?
4: RE-DESIGN
-An OC who has changed a lot over the years
-Take an old OC and update their design right now
BACKSTORY WEEK
5: RELATIONSHIPS ⭐
-Who is important to your OC?
-Do they have a partner?
-Do they have a best friend?
-Are they close to their family?
6: SYMBOL
-What imagery do you associate with your oc?
-Are there any colours, flowers, animals or concepts that symbolize them?
7: PERSONALITY ⭐
-How does your OC behave?
-What are their positive traits?
-What are their negative traits?
-Are they extroverted or introverted?
8: PAST
-What was your OC like as a child?
-Where did they grow up?
-Are there any significant moments from their past that shaped who they are?
9: FUTURE ⭐
-Does your OC have a goal they're working towards?
-What will your OC look like when they get older
-Do you have a planned ending for their story?
PALETTE WEEK
10: pumpkin patch palette
#251604 #1E3807 #5B5E1A #A2A657 #EBA00F #F3ECCC
11: hot cocoa palette
#520B13 #BB382E #E27E6D #88392C #AF5D40 #E1AFA4
12: midnight zone palette
#000007 #000049 #183885 #004D4F #0E8788 #FFF1C0
13: peachy palette
#DE6450 #DB9171 #FFC1AE #FEE1AD #FFF2E0 #D9D8D8
14: haunted house palette
#552506 #6E25AA #ED690B #F925A0 #8F8BA7 #A6C1AA
FUN + GAMES WEEK
15: MEME ⭐
-Post memes that remind you of your OC
-Draw your OC as a meme
-Fill out a character meme (classic deviantart style)
16: FOOD
-What is your OC's favourite food?
-What is their least favourite?
-Can they cook?
17: EYES-CLOSED ⭐
-Draw your OC with your eyes closed! No cheating!
-Write a scene without looking at the keyboard! Keep the typos in!
18: SWAP
-Swap the style or aesthetic of two of your OCs
-Species or gender swap AU
-Invert an OC's colour scheme
19: INSPIRATION ⭐
-Is your OC inspired by any pre-existing characters?
-Are there any particular songs/lyrics that inspired something about one of your OCs
-Do you have a dedicated pinterest moodboard for your character?
20: INVENTORY
-What does your OC carry around with them on a daily basis?
-Are there any objects that have sentimental value for them?
-Loot drop for your DnD OC
FRIENDS WEEK
21-25:
There's no specific daily prompts for this week, but here are some ideas you can try ...
-Art trades with friends who are doing the event with you
-Your OC interacting with a friend's OC
-Gift art for someone whose OCs you like
-Work together and collaborate on something with a friend
-Roleplay an OC scene together with someone
HALLOWEEN WEEK
26: FEAR ⭐
-What is your OC scared of?
-Draw one of your OCs trying to scare the others
27: MONSTER
-Do you have any monster OCs? (eg: vampires, werewolves, creatures, ghosts...)
-Draw a human OC as a monster
-Design a new monster
28: TRICK
-Play a trick on an OC
-Do you have an OC who would play tricks on people?
29: TREAT
-What is your OC's favourite halloween candy?
-Give an OC a special treat to make up for yesterday's trick
30: MAGIC
-Do any of your characters have magical powers?
-Give an OC a magical or cursed artifact
-Create a magic-using OC like a witch or wizard
27: COSTUME ⭐
-What is your OC dressing as for halloween?
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canon is dead I rule the world. dsmp you are MINE
dsmpblrs ocs shared between the 5 (five) singular people that inhabit this fandom
I'm taking the chance to just talk about my personal dsmp au that is basically canon if you don't think about it
I don't think we as a community wrote enough about demon ctommy. he was always my favorite it just gives him this evil vibe that I think is sooo funny and I always see it in ctommy art but never in literally any fic. and that's fine but imp or whatever-he-is-Tommy will always be real in my heart. in my head he used to be a bird hybrid, but when he died for what was supposed to be the final time they took his fucking wings and gave him cunty demon horns and tail. Death made him emo. for the sake of this narrative his wings used to be white too. Pair this with religious ctommy and you get peak
ctubbo. I think about him a lot. I think personally he wears armor under his coat. You'd think it start to get hot under there, and it does. his solution is to just Never leave the Arctic.
At some point he started developing resting bitch face, because it used to just be resting (autistic face of neutrality) but now he kind of just looks tired all the time. Not like Tommy's rbf where he looks like he's kinda pissed and has a headache 24/7. but at least they're semi matching now. bff's!!! (?) I can't write too much about ctubbo because my cutbbo is like 20 billion contradictions stacked on itself. he's not as simple as my ctommy.
He doesn't wear the red bandana anymore but he can't tell you why and he's not insecure about the scar on his face but he's not proud of it either. I FORGOT TO DRAW CRANBOO AND HIS WEDDING RINGS IM AN ANTI WHAT THE HELLL okay ignoring that blunder, their wedding rings are meant to be on their horns 💔 you can't fucking see cranboos singular (1) horn because it's out of frame, they're too tall.
SPEAKONG OF CRANBOO!!!! snakes in his hair because Hahhaa hattte eye contact????? Medusa???? get it guys get it do you guys get jut
The snakes talk to him. Take that as you will. He's a chronic suit wearer and will literally not wear anything else unless it's under or over the suit. he would like to never try anything new ever he needs this constant in his life or everything will fall apart and the world will end. He knows how to kit up and wear armor but just as a joke he wears random bits of armor in places he literally needs it least. as a fashion statement. Tommy doesn't wear any armor usually bcz who gaf he's not doing that shit
in my perfect world the egg plot in dsmp actually got used better and becsme more than a background plot. it could've been everything. anyway my dsmp au is egg war las Nevadas craziness and I'm right goodnight
#dsmp#dsmp fanart#art#tommyinnt fanart#tubbo fanart#ranboo fanart#c!ranboo#c!tommy#c!tubbo#c!benchtrio#plugging my ears at canon#scratch that I'm beating canon to death with a bat#these are my ocs.#cranboo never died#amen!#i don't think I can handle it#peep the blue stitches on Tommy's coat hahaha it's friends wool#rip friend I remember updating that on the update account#ignore cbbh and csam in the back#theyre playing#guys is mental illness real#guys#hell on art
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the violence of the dog days.
pairing: jeongguk x reader
summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.
OR
you're hot and horny for jeongguk.
rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)
genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp
word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.
warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).
author's note:
1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on.
2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.
You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.
The heat.
With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.
But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.
Perhaps you are, you think.
Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.
With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.
“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.
A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.
The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.
You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.
All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.
Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.
You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...
He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.
You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.
It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.
The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.
For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.
The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.
Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.
Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.
You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.
“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”
“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.
“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.
Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.
Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.
“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.
“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.
“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.
“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”
“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”
You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.
“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”
This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.
“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.
Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.
God, what is wrong with you tonight?
You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.
Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.
A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.
He feels his dick stir at the sight.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.
“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.
“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.
“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.
“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”
A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.
You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.
“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”
You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.
He always does.
“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.
You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.
“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.
“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.
You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”
You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.
He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.
“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.
“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.
You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”
Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.
The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.
“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”
“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.
“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.
You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.
“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.
“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.
You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.
It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.
Your body practically hums at the thought.
You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.
Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.
When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.
It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.
You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.
You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.
“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.
But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.
“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.
But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.
So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”
“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.
“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”
Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.
You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.
But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.
A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.
“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.
“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”
His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.
“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”
And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.
It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.
“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.
Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.
“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.
You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.
Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.
You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.
At least, not until now.
So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.
“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.
With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.
Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.
When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.
Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.
You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.
Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”
Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.
You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.
Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.
He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.
You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.
Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.
How did you ever get this lucky?
“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.
Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.
The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”
Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.
You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.
“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.
A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.
You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.
Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.
Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”
You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.
But Jeongguk's not having any of that.
He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.
You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.
Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.
“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.
He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.
With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.
You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.
But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”
And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.
He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.
“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.
But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.
He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.
Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.
“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.
With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.
He doesn't put it in though.
First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.
“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.
He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.
“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.
“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.
“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.
You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.
“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.
“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.
“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”
Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.
“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”
“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”
You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.
Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”
Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.
Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.
“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.
The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.
Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.
“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.
You really are going to be the death of him.
He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.
His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.
“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.
“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.
It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.
“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.
“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.
You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.
Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.
Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.
He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.
The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.
By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.
Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.
“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.
“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.
“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.
As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”
He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.
You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.
“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.
In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.
Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.
“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.
“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”
Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.
And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.
You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”
And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.
One that dresses all your bruises.
It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.
But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.
Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.
The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.
The spare toothbrush at his place.
The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.
Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.
You never want to let him go.
#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook au#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook one shot#jeon jungkook#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenario#jungkook drabble#bts#bts smut#bts fic#bts fanfction#bts au#bts x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook x y/n#bts jungkook#kpop#kpop imagines#bts oneshot
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HATE THAT I LOVE YOU || part 2.
mean!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader
It's already a part of Sukuna's personality to be mean, always throwing insults at every person he finds annoying here and there. And you were no exception. You ran after him like a lovesick puppy, happily smiling at his rejections, confessing to him multiple times how much you like him, and Sukuna wanted so much to strangle you for your persistence.
But when you stopped showing interest, maybe... just maybe, Sukuna didn't like the sound of it.
contents: sukuna x reader, soft!reader, reader is oblivious to sukuna's insults, mean!sukuna, golden retriever x black cat trope, reader is a happy pill (not to sukuna tho, yet), hurt/slight angst, modern college AU, sukuna is in a band, bassist!sukuna, not proofread, jjk characters in a band, siblings yuji and sukuna
warning: cursing
links: < part 1 > > < part 3 >
Note: This is turning into a series help 😭
***
It didn't sit right with Sukuna how you became so quiet throughout their band practice.
Not a word of appreciation. Not one compliment whenever the band finishes a song. On top of that, you wouldn't even look at him.
That pissed him more. He's been glancing at you several times, thinking about how he's supposed to say sorry about what happened, when he himself is not even an apologetic person.
He watched you look at Nanami, looked at Suguru and Choso, even smiled at Yuji at one point. But not to him.
Did it bother Sukuna so much how your eyes looked tired? How your eyes were so red from crying? How your silence was killing him? Two days have already passed since the incident, and you're still crying over it?
It was definitely affecting not just him, but also the whole band. Their own manager, who's always so happy and full of sunshine, was just looking down at her feet, biting her lip as she watched everyone do their thing. Everyone looked at Sukuna like he should do something, and it annoyed him how he knows that he really should, but it wasn't the right time yet.
So when the band finally bid their goodbyes and left the room, he was quick to his feet to close the door, locking the two of you inside.
Your eyes widened as you watched as his back tensed, before he turned to you with fire in his eyes.
"What's wrong with you?"
You gulped at his question.
What is he talking about anyway? What 'wrong' did he mean? Did he mean your behaviour for always being a nuisance with him? Or did he mean it somewhere between the lines of 'what's bothering you'?
You purse your lips, looking away from him in confusion. You couldn't even look at his face. You're just so afraid you'll give in. "What do you mean?"
"Don't act all innocent with me, brat." He spat, taking slow steps towards you, making you walk backwards until you felt your back hit the wall. "You've been silent all day, and everyone seemed to be affected. Stop being a fucking baby."
If you didn't know what he was talking about minutes ago, you definitely knew now. Of course, you're not that dumb to not see how the band had an awkward atmosphere moments ago, but you didn't know that it was because of you.
"I'm sorry-”
You stopped when he held your chin with his fingers, his other hand leaned on the wall behind you, locking you in. "Better keep your mouth shut if you're only going to apologize again. I'm so sick of your sorries."
Your mouth parted to speak, and you swear you saw Sukuna's eyes looking at them before returning back to look at your eyes. Your face started to heat up, and your hands were trembling at your sides.
His face leaned in closer, his breath practically fanning over the skin of your neck. "If it's about what happened, then..." He took a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it. "I'm... sorry... princess… Is that… what you wanted to hear?" He said it so slow, and so taunting. Like he was teasing you for your vulnerability.
His thumb brushed your lower lip for a moment, and it made you shiver as he straightened his composure, taking a step backward with a smirk.
"Don't expect me to repeat what I said, brat. I better not see you crying tomorrow."
•
Did his apology make you feel better? It definitely didn't.
But did it mess with your head? Yes, it did.
You were restless the whole night, the scene replaying in your head over and over again. And it's not helping you to move on from Sukuna.
In fact, it only made your feelings worse. When you remember how he got so close to you, his face almost touching yours, it's like your heart was about to burst from your chest.
The next day, you were definitely back to your jolly self though. But the difference? You are avoiding Sukuna now.
As Sukuna pulled up in the school parking lot, his eyes roamed around to look for a certain person who he expected to be waiting for him. But no. You were not there. He thought that maybe you just came in late, but when he saw you at the school corridors, walking right past him, his heart drums on his chest nervously like a wake-up call.
He shouldn't be affected. No, he shouldn't be feeling that strange feeling tugging at his chest. Maybe he just needs a cup of coffee to ease them.
He didn't like this feeling.
Band practice came, and of course, you two are bound to be in the same room. Everyone went in, all feeling better than yesterday to see you back with your usual energy. The mood felt lighter as you conversed with everyone, and still not to him.
As you walked around the room, you felt someone's eyes following you, but you paid it no mind.
•
Why do you always have to see Sukuna in the practice room when everyone still hasn't arrived?
You found Sukuna once again, in his usual spot in the corner of the room. His hands were busy playing his guitar, but stopped when both your eyes darted at each other.
You blinked a few times, before muttering in a low voice, "H-hi."
It was just for formality anyway. Even though you can't look him straight in the eye anymore, you still have to keep some kind of professionalism as the manager of the band.
You sat at a chair on the other side of the room, keeping a wide distance.
Sukuna stared at you, almost piercing a hole in your head as you pulled out your phone to distract yourself.
Usually, Sukuna wouldn't even care if people watch him play with his guitar. However, it was a little different with you now, and he's not able to think straight anymore, so that made him stop doing whatever he was doing.
It was so strange for Sukuna. How you wouldn't even say some nonsense to him, like you usually do.
He wanted to ask, what is really wrong with you this time?
Why aren't you bothering him? You weren't blabbering anymore. You don't wait for him outside school. You don't give him chocolates or any snacks. You don't tell him how much you like him in front of everyone. You don't compliment his talents even though he was just playing a guitar.
The things you used to do, in which you're not doing anymore, was clenching something in his guts.
You weren't trying to get his attention, and he was wanting to get yours.
“Brat.”
It was like an automatic response for you to look, and it almost made him chuckle at your flushed face. It was a nickname that he always called you, insulting you yet you got used to it.
Your face heated up as your back straightened on your seat. “Y-yes?”
Sukuna stared at you long enough, his brows meeting each other. He was trying to read you, but it was already obvious to him how you're putting a wall between you two.
And he didn't really like it.
“Finally given up, huh?”
His tone was sour, like he disapproves of the idea of what he's trying to say.
You only looked at him confused as he didn't care to explain his words any further when his eyes darted back to his guitar, and continued to busy himself.
The silence had never felt so suffocating before until now.
•
The school fest came by quickly, and the band was busy rehearsing backstage.
Sukuna was busy, and so were you as you ordered people around where to place some equipment. It was a public show anyway, the school allowed outsiders since it was their big founding anniversary that they celebrate every year.
Of course, you're not only busying yourself with handling the show, you have to keep the members on track as well.
You were holding bottles of water for the band members in your small hands, since the cafeteria said they ran out of bags, you were forced to carry them in your arms.
As you pushed the door where the members were staying out, a figure was also about to exit, making you crash into his chest.
Almost.
You almost dropped the bottles if the man in front of you didn't hold your waist to steady your body, his body pressing against the bottles in your arms between the two of you just so they wouldn't fall.
You sucked in a breath as you lifted your eyes, meeting Sukuna's.
“Careful.” He whispered. He took the bottles from your hand with ease, opening the door for you as he placed them on the table for everyone to see.
But you couldn't even move in your spot.
You felt some kind of electric shock lingering in your waist, your heart beating rapidly.
•
The school fest ended well with cheers and shouting. Everyone was pleased at the performance, and it was finally time to rest.
You slumped on the couch, while everyone was organising their bags, and placing their guitars on its case.
You were breathing heavily since you've been running around backstage the whole performance, since you had to make sure there were no technical errors happening around.
You were so busy with yourself that you didn't even notice Sukuna taking a seat beside you.
He grabbed one bottle of water, opening it easily, and then, surprisingly, handed it to you.
He didn't even know what he was doing.
You were surprised, and it didn't even look like he was aware of what he did.
With shaky hands, you accepted the water, muttering a small thanks to him as you drank.
But even the water couldn't calm your beating heart.
•
The week ended, and the band decided to go to a bar to party for their successful show. Everyone was there–Nanami, Suguru, Choso, Yuji, and Sukuna–they all gathered at a table drinking some shots when you saw them.
Yuji already looked tipsy, Nanami was watching over everyone while still drinking himself, Suguru was chatting with Choso and Sukuna. You were also feeling the alcohol getting into your system as you talked with Nanami.
“Manager! Let's dance!” Yuji called you. He was smiling from ear to ear, his face red from the alcohol.
“Of course, Yuji.”
Yuji pulled your wrist as you two walked to the dance floor. He was jumping around and moving his body to the rhythm of an upbeat song, and you did the same to synchronise his movements. You both were laughing and talking despite the blaring music that played so loudly. As Yuji kept handing you glasses after glasses of liquor, it was pretty clear that you two were getting drunk already.
You stopped your movements as you held Yuji’s shoulder, shouting closely to his ear. “I'm going to the bathroom!”
Yuji nodded, giving you a two thumbs up, his eyes sparkling because of the lights illuminating the bar.
Believe it or not, Sukuna was watching over the two of you the whole time, the alcohol also clouding his system at one point. He's just lucky that he had a high alcohol tolerance, so he was still sane when he followed your disappearing figure from the crowd.
You stumbled outside the bathroom after you were done. Your throat was burning from all the alcohol you consumed, and your feet were hurting because of the heels you wore after jumping and dancing around like a maniac. You were drunk, and it was so obvious by the way that you walked as you struggled to keep your balance.
You should thank your guardian angels that Sukuna followed you, quickly holding you in place by the waist before you can even face palm on the floor.
“You're drunk,” he grunted, looking down at you.
You mumbled incoherent words, your hands touched his wrist that was touching your waist. His body was pressed against you as you tried to keep standing on your feet, but you were feeling weak. There was a radiating sensual heat between you, and it was making your cheeks heat up.
“Sukuna…” Your words were slurred, and even sounded sleepy. “Sukuna… why are there… two Sukuna in my eyes?”
Sukuna's gripped on you tighten, knowing how much you've gotten pretty drunk, he was pretty sure you wouldn't be able to get home properly in this state.
“Come on,” he held your arms, steadying you. “I should take you home.”
“But the party's not over–”
“Shut up."
You frowned, letting yourself be pulled by Sukuna as he led you out of the bar. With one hand, he quickly got his keys from his pocket and clicked something in it as you two walked at the quiet parking lot. The car made a sound, and you two walked towards his car, with you almost tripping on your feet.
“‘Kuna…” You whined softly, your hands pulling him to stop. “W-where are you… hic… t-taking me?”
“Shut up and just stay still, would ya?” He hissed as he pushed your back against his car.
Your vision was blurry, but you still somehow saw Sukuna knelt down in front of you as his hands grazed your ankle. Your eyes are half-closed as you feel Sukuna taking the straps off of your heels, lifting your feet up to take off your heels on both your feet.
You breathed heavily as he stood up, your head tilting to the side as you stared up at him. “What are you doing to me…” You whispered, lips pouting.
He raised an eyebrow, his one hand was carrying your heels and the other was placed on your waist. “Get in the car. Now.”
You faked a gasped, head falling on his chest. “Why are you always so mean to me?” You slurred, your weak fists punching his chest.
Sukuna took a heavy breath as he caught your fists in his hands, unclasping them, and then lifting your chin up with the same hand that was holding yours. “You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?”
Your lips pouted even more as you stole your hand from his grasp, and then poking his cheek with your pointer finger. “Ha! You're the one who's always stubborn! I don't like you! No, no… I don't like you! You're bad!” You poked his cheek after each word.
Sukuna's jaw clenched as he caught your wrist once again. He leaned in closer, making you move your head backward,
“You don't like me anymore, doll?” He chuckled devilishly.
“Yes… n-no… yes…”
Sukuna's grin grew wider as he watched your drunk and fragile state. You looked so small beneath him he could crush you so easily. And it fascinates him, entertains him even as he sees another side of you that looked so weak for him.
He let out a hum, his face a few inches from your ear. "Should I change that?"
***
So... come back for part 3!
• Part 1
#jjk#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#jujutsu sukuna#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna au#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#jujutsu x reader#nanami kento#suguru geto#choso kamo#yuji itadori#yuji and sukuna are siblings#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#jjk ryomen#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna angst#sukuna fluff
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BTS FIC RECS PART 4.1
Part 4.1 of some of my favourite BTS fanfics. Please do consider liking, reblogging and/or commenting on the fics you like. There are so many wonderful and amazing authors out there who do not get the recognition they deserve. So please send them lots of love to keep them going. If you're on here, then know I enjoyed every second of reading your story ♡
There will be two parts 4 as it's (sadly?) too long to be saved under one post. Stay tuned for part 5, joon recs will be added!
Please let me know if some of the links aren’t working. Happy reading!
⊹ Navi ‣ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.1 | Part 5 |
⊹ Merry Kinkmas - part 02
Enemies to lovers au au | s | @bebejungkook
‣ You find out who your secret Santa was but his gift was a little too personal.
⊹ In Your Arms Tonight
College au | s, f | @angelguk
‣ “I’m Team I Would Like To Be Fucked Tonight.” You stated, blatantly ignoring the stink eye he shot your way. “But clearly that’s not on our agenda. Have you ever seen Vampires Suck?”
⊹ Baecation
Richboy!jk au | s, f | @1kook
‣ “Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart.
⊹ Act Of Falling
Fuckboy!jk au | s, f , a | @kooktrash
‣ What was supposed to be a meaningless fling has turned into much more before you both realized you were falling. Now all you can do is hope that all the challenges you’ve faced are worth something.
⊹ Candles & Flames
Royal AU | s, f, a | @taegularities
‣ He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
⊹ Distractions
Practice couple au | s, f | @chryblossomjjk
‣ Jungkook agreed to let you do his makeup, but he can't stop getting distracted.
⊹ Naughty Boy
Step siblings au | s | @scribblemetae
‣ Reader is older step sister that knows he has a crush on her/yandere tendencies & she teases him until one day he gives in.
⊹ When It Feels Right (read part 1 first)
Divorce au | a, f | @7deadlysinsfics
‣ Although Jungkook is struggling with the decision he made months ago, he still thinks it was the best thing he could’ve done for your safety. But he isn’t doing well, and his friends are worried about him and how he’s choosing to deal with his feelings. Meanwhile, you’re now living with your brother, his wife, and their ten-month-old daughter, who has helped bring some light into your life. Just as you decide to tell Jungkook the truth about your pregnancy, he appears at your brother’s house with a truth of his own.
⊹ When She Loved Me
Terminally Ill au | s, f, a | @jungkookstatts
‣ How does one live when life is bound to end?
⊹ your step brother fucking you in front of your parents
Step siblings au | s | @aris-ink
⊹ Don't Blame Me (on-going)
Single Dad au | s, f, a | @thvhoe
‣ Jungkook is known for his good looks and is often described by your friends as "daddy material." Funny enough, he actually was a daddy.
The daddy of the baby girl you babysit every Saturday.
Working as a nanny for the world's grumpiest single dad should have been easy, but you can't keep your eyes off him. He's handsome, a little arrogant, with broad shoulders and strong tattooed arms. And when he decides he can't keep his hands off of you. Who are you to resist?
⊹ Rolling Stone
Idol au | s, f , a | @kooktrash
‣ He was a rolling stone with no ties to anyone or any place and that’s how he and his fans liked it. Now he’s found you and it’s never been this hard to convince someone that he’ll stay. The problem is neither of you know what it means to express yourselves without reverting to sex as a form to end discussion. It causes all hell to break loose when Jungkook realized if he wants you to stay for him [with him] then he needs to show it to you too. Can Jungkook and Y/n get past their own growing doubts on if what they feel is real and work out a way to be together—especially considering Y/n wants nothing to do with the limelight?
⊹ The Ability To Fantom - part 02 (on-going)
Brother’s best friend au | a, f | @hanniwrites
‣ You are shocked when your friends reveal their theory: Jungkook, your brother’s annoying best friend, has a crush on you. A bad one.
⊹ Torn Apart
Infidelity au | s, a | @bethschamberoftales
‣ That one time when you caught your boyfriend cheating on you.
⊹ My Love Is Here (series)
Unrequited love to requited | s, f, a | @solemnreads
‣ You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened.
⊹ I'll Stop Tomorrow
Friends with benefits AU | s, a | @dreamyjoons
‣ You know it has to end.
⊹ Just A Taste
Spring break AU | s, f | @cutechim
‣ “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like.”
⊹ Flat Tire
Established relationship AU | s, f | @ppersonna
‣ How do you pass the time when you’re stuck on the side of the road with your boyfriend, with a flat tire?
⊹ One Mistake (on-going)
Idol!Tae & Cheating AU | a | @vamours
‣ it’s been three years since you and Taehyung had started dating. recently, you’ve started to notice changes in taehyung’s behavior towards you. with your four years anniversary only a few weeks away, you’ve come to discover the truth.
⊹ Akrasia
Strangers to? | s | @nitaescence
‣ Basically two strangers fucking in a crowded bus.
⊹ Stepdad Taehyung
Step!father au | s | @aris-ink
‣ "He was not touching himself right beside you. No, that was not possible"
⊹ Rock Bottom
Idol Jimin AU | s, f, a | @jkbabiey
‣ When, in a four-year marriage, you get to the point where you question its worth, you know that’s your rock bottom. How many I’m sorry’s will you handle? How many times are too many times?
⊹ What's Poppin
Established relationship AU, | f, s | @joonberriess
‣ Yoongi being the type to buy you a chain cause if he’s pimped out, his girl gotta be too.
⊹ Foundation - Part 01, 02, 03 feat Yoongi
Non-idol doctors AU | f , s, a | @hamsterclaw
‣ You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? Featuring Yoongi.
⊹ Looks so refreshed
Idol AU | s | @kimnjss
‣ Friends with benefits is hard, but when he’s an international superstar… It’s much harder. So while you love his friends to death, spending the night holed up in his hotel room just sounds a lot more fun than a dinner party.
⊹ Friends (3TAN)
Brother's best friend AU | f, s, a | @kithtaehyung
‣ The week you get with Yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call.
⊹ So it goes
Friends with benefits (ish) AU | f , s | @prodagustd
‣ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it..
⊹ Marry me, Yoongi
Established relationship AU | f, s | @spideyjimin
‣ When Yoongi decides to get married in vegas after all the fan’s comments on the vlives.
⊹ Amour Propre
Established relationship AU | a | @randombtsprincessa
‣ Crumbling Relationship with one Min Yoongi
⊹ Blind Spot
Established relationship AU | f, a | @randombtsprincessa
‣ Yoongi tries to win you back.
⊹Your Universe
Rejection AU | f, a, s | @muniimyg
‣ Regretting rejecting oc, Min Yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again
#my recs#jungkook fanfic#jimin fanfic#taehyung fanfic#yoongi fanfic#jungkook angst#jimin angst#yoongi angst#taehyung angst#jungkook smut#jimin smut#taehyung smut#yoongi smut#jungkook fluff#jimin fluff#taehyung fluff#yoongi fluff#bts fanfic#bts fic recs#bts recs#jungkook recs#jimin recs#taehyung recs#yoongi recs#jungkook drabble#taehyung drabble#yoongi drabble#jungkook imagine#jimin imagine#taehyung imagine
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Like magic —Part 1
part 2
Male!yandere x female!reader x female!yandere
Hogwarts AU
Summary: your parents have denied you access to going to hogwarts, but finally in your 3d year, you manage to sneak off. But is life really that good at hogwarts when two students take a concerningly big interest in you?
Warnings: bullying, indications of unstable home life, kissing (dubcon?), forcing reader to throw up,
Word count: 6.8k
A/N: I have loosely followed the AU, but have made up my own things for the plot to work, so don't take my work literally :)
It has to be a joke, right? There’s no way that you can run straight through a wall! You gulp and look around, seeing if anyone else is doing the same, or if anyone is noticing how much you’re staring at the pillar separating the two platforms. Finally, you see two others make it through and you decide to make a run for it. You close your eyes and when you dare to open them again, you’re there. The train, the students, it’s finally time. After three, long years.
You were supposed to start when you were eleven, but you weren’t allowed to. They didn’t believe you. If you hadn't picked the lock to your bedroom, you'd not be here this year either. You don't have anything — no books, no animals, no broom. You only have a wand and a packed suitcase. You watch the other students already wearing their Hogwarts uniforms. They hug their parents and catch up with their friends. You sneak onto the train and sit down in your own little coupe. Your heart is hammering against your chest. Your parents will figure it out soon enough and you're terrified that they'll stand on the platform and demand you to get off.
Just start the train, make it leave.
"Oh, excuse me", a voice says.
You turn your head to the door, seeing a blonde girl standing there with a black, Grey and yellow uniform on.
"Can I sit with you?" she asks and quickly adds: "I saw you out on the platform. You looked rather lost so i just wanted to see if I could help you."
"Yeah, sure", you answer, startled. "Thank you."
The girl sits down on the couch in front of you with a smile.
"I'm Hedwig", she smiles. "Third year student. What's your name?"
"Y/N", you answer hesitantly. "I'm … new."
"I see. You're a first year student?"
"Not exactly, no … I'm supposed to be in third year too-"
"Oh, really?" Hedwig shines up. "I don't think I've ever seen you before. Which house are you in?"
"I don't know." You shrug embarrassedly. "This is technically my first year."
"Oh … I see." She smiles brightly. "That's totally fine. I can help you if you want. We have some hours to kill, so I can fill you up on most things so you're not as lost when you reach Hogwarts as you were out on the platform."
"Yes, please, that would be great. Thank you."
Hedwig fills you in on basic information. Four houses, different characteristics, a talking hat gives you your house. The school is a gigantic castle that has moving stairs, every house has passwords to their common rooms, some teachers are asses, some are okay, some are nice. Don't wander into the forest, especially at night, stay out of certain corridors. The janitor's cat is an asshole.
"I suppose you're a muggleborn then", Hedwig smiles and adds when you frown confusedly: "born and raised by normal people. Otherwise you'd know most things already."
"Are you?" you wonder, wanting to find something in common with this extraordinary girl.
"Halfblood, actually. My dad is a businessman and my mother is a witch. But don't worry, I don't care about what type of families people come from. It doesn't interest me in the slightest."
"Do some care?"
Hedwig squirms uncomfortably. "Some do. Some people think that being from a wizard family makes them superior to halfbloods and muggleborns, but don't you worry, those people aren't worth socializing with."
"Which house are you in?"
Hedwig smiles and shows you the yellow logo on her cape. You can see a badger in the middle.
"I'm a Hufflepuff!" she smiles and giggles. "The best house according to me, but I'm supposedly a bit biased."
"Which do you think I'll get into?" you ask.
"I'm not sure. It's hard for me to say after only talking with you for thirty minutes … but I think you could be a Hufflepuff like me … or a Gryffindor."
"Why a Gryffindor?"
"I don't know, but you seem to have a steady heart."
"Which is the worst house?"
"There's no such thing as a 'worst house', Y/N. Every house has both good and bad people — even Hufflepuff. Although some houses may have a bigger percentage of 'bad' people." She sighs. "Slytherin. Although I do have some friends from Slytherin, some of the students in that house can be quite … scary. Their pride can be extremely big and they let that go out over other people. Don't worry about it though, not everyone is mean."
You nod and gulp.
Hedwig catches you up on some easy spells and knowledge on the rest of the way. You avoid every type of question that can lead her to know about your … situation.
You get sorted into a house in private, after Hedwig asks the principal about not pulling so much attention to you. You're embarrassed as if already. You're a Ravenclaw.
"The uniform is so pretty on you, Y/N!" she gasps as you come out of Dumbledore's office. "The blue looks really good on you."
"Thank you", you say and feel the material. "What do I do now?"
"We'll go back to the welcome ceremony and then you'll have to talk to your prefects. They'll fill you in with everything you need to know." She takes your hands in hers. "If you ever need any books, let me know and I'll lend you one, okay?"
"Thank you, Hedwig."
She doesn't let your hands go. You have to pull them back to be able to walk to the hall. You sit down with the other third years and glance over to Hedwig’s table.
"You know Hedwig?" a Ravenclaw boy with black eyes asks.
"I met her on the train", you say.
"She's the most popular girl in our year", a girl says. "Everyone wants to be her friend."
"Really?" you wonder and glance at Hedwig who's sitting and smiling with her fellow Hufflepuffs. "She never came across as someone popular."
Maybe you're too used to how the people back home act.
When all the first years have gotten their houses and the food has been devoured, you follow your prefect through mighty corridors that have ghosts flowing past. You enter a rower with a long, spiral staircase. Your legs hurt after four steps.
"Y/N", the prefect says. "Before I show you to the dormitory, I need to talk to you a bit. Do you know any magic at all?"
"Hedwig taught me a bit on the train", you reply, concluding that only saying her first name should work if she's as popular as that boy had insisted.
"You'll have to take extra classes unless you want to start all over with the first graders."
You shake your head quickly. Rather hard work now than be known as 'the third grader among first years' for your entire school time.
You're led into the dormitory and granted your own bed. Your things are already in your drawers. After this long, eventful day, you fall asleep quickly, finally where you should be. When waking up, you’re first confused about where you are, sure that everything that happened yesterday was just a nightmare … but no, it was all real.
"Now, don't be alarmed, my dear", Hedwig says when you meet her. "You will do just fine, okay?"
"I have never been around the castle", you mumble and take a bite out of your toast.
"Your first lesson is Transfiguration. You'll have that class with the Slytherin students."
"Will we have any classes together?"
Hedwig smiles widely. "Sure, we will. But I think you better go now, you start in ten minutes."
Hedwig shoots her book over the table.
"Here you go" she smiles. "Good luck now, I'll meet you for lunch, okay? You can sit with me."
"Okay, thank you", you say quietly and walk out of the great hall. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest and you start to wonder if the feeling of needing to throw up is real or only imaginary.
You find yourself lost in the large corridors before finally finding your way.
"I'm so sorry", you say quietly as you enter. "I lost my way."
"I will have mercy on you this time", the professor says. "But don't think that this will be a habit of yours, young lady. I expect you to be on time from now on."
"Of course, Professor McGonagall. I'll never be late again."
"Very well." She looks around. "Sit down beside Edmund, all the Ravenclaw seats are filled."
"Yes, professor."
You glance over the class and see an empty seat with a boy wearing the Slytherin uniform sitting beside it. He looks bored out of his mind. Carefully, you make your way over and sit down. Edmund glances at you.
"Who are you?" he mutters. "Are you a transfer student or something?"
"Something like that", you answer.
The class starts and you immediately feel your head spin. You can't keep up.
"What's the matter, new girl?" Edmund chuckles while he leans his cheek in his hand.
"I-I've never done anything like this!" you hiss to avoid anyone else hearing.
Edmund’s face drops. He seems to … crawl together without having to move.
"You're a … a-", he starts.
"Edmund and Y/N, if you're going to continue talking, I'll use the both of you as guinea pigs — literally!" the professor says sternly.
Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when the rest of the class turns to look at the both of You. Edmund rolls his eyes and grabs his book. When they turn around, you breathe out.
As break time starts, Edmund joins his friends.
"New girl", he says, catching your attention. "Next time, come earlier so I don't have to sit with you again."
"Of course", you mutter and leave.
You smile when you see Hedwig wait for you by the entrance to the big hall. She holds out her hand.
"I've missed you!" she smiles and hugs you tightly. "I was worrying for you all through Herbology!" She holds your hand while pulling you with her. "Tell me everything!"
You sit down by the Ravenclaw table to eat. Hedwig’s hazel eyes never leave yours.
"I came late, so I sat down beside a Slytherin student."
Hedwig's smile thins out slightly. "Oh? Who? Do I know them?"
"His name is Edmund."
Hedwig chokes on her pumpkin soup and starts to cough.
"What's wrong?" you ask quickly and pat her back.
"Did he say anything to you?" Hedwig asks worriedly.
"He just told me to be quicker to class next time so he didn't have to sit with me. A bit rude, if you ask me."
"A bit rude? Y/N, that boy is a bully!"
You feel a shiver run down your back.
"Edmund is one of those bad Slytherins I told you about", Hedwig says quietly. "He's a pureblood and … thinks he's better than anyone else. It's said that his parents helped … well, you know who, before he disappeared two years ago."
Hedwig had talked about that man on the train. You gulp.
"Whatever you do, Y/N — and promise me this — don't go close to Edmund", Hedwig says and holds your hands in hers. "Please?"
You nod. Hedwig smiles and caresses your cheek.
"Let's go to the library and study on the lunch break", she says. "There's so much you need to learn!"
You study with Hedwig every day. But she doesn't seem to mind, she neglects her friends to be with you.
"What a cute sight, isn't it?" you hear a voice say.
You're sitting in the courtyard, studying magical history. You look up, seeing Edmund and his two friends come over.
"One half and one mudblood, how sweet", he says with a wide smile. "They really do be letting anyone in these days."
“What is wrong with you?” Hedwig gasps. “Have you no shame?!”
“What? Did I say anything wrong? Aren’t you halfblood, Hedwig?” He turns to you. “New girl, aren’t you muggleborn? What did I say that is wrong, Hedwig?”
“You do not call Y/N that. You are a disgrace to the wizarding world, Edmund.”
“I find it funny how someone that isn’t fully pure is calling me a disgrace.”
Hedwig grabs your hand and helps you up on your feet.
“Come, Y/N”, she says. “Let’s leave. We can’t study here.”
You nod. While Hedwig drags you away from the courtyard, you glance over your shoulders, seeing Edmund’s icy eyes follow you.
“I can’t believe that he called you that”, Hedwig says quietly and pulls you with her. “I’m furious.”
“What did that mean?” you ask carefully. “Why did that matter so much?”
“Mudblood, Y/N, is one of the foulest things anyone can ever call a person. It basically means that your blood is disgusting for not being born into a wizard family. He … he called you something less than human. It’s disgusting.” Hedwig hugs you tightly and hides her face into your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that. You’re such a sweet soul, I’m so sorry.”
“Hedwig, it’s okay”, you promise with a smile. “I didn’t take any offense — I barely knew what it meant.”
“I get sad for you. You don’t deserve that.” She thinks for a moment and then lights up. "Would you like to have a sleepover?"
"How would that work out?"
"Sneak into Hufflepuff, I'll give you the password. I'll take all the blame if we get caught. Please, Y/N? It'll be so much fun."
"The girls you share a dormitory with will be tell on us-"
"No, they won't! Trust me. The girls like me, they wouldn't tattletail."
It must be beneficial to be popular. You frown. Aren't you quite famous now too? After being glued to Hedwig’s hip for over a month must have caused rumors. You have been so busy with your extra classes and studying that you haven't been able to catch up with it all. You barely know what your fellow Ravenclaws are named.
"Please, Y/N?" Hedwig pleads. "It will be so much fun. I will get us some snacks and we can read together and tell stories."
"Where should I sleep?"
"In my bed, of course! We're friends, it's not weird. What do you say?"
"Alright, if you promise that we won't get in trouble."
"No one will tell, I promise!" She takes your hand. "Let's go to the library and study now."
You do sneak into the Hufflepuff common room that evening together with Hedwig. You can't help but feel terribly wrong and every motion you make feels watched. At any time someone will pop out and you'll be caught. Hedwig pulls you through the common room and you can't help but gawk. Why weren't you placed in Hufflepuff?
Wearing your pajamas, you climb down into Hedwig’s bed. She smiles, cuddling up beside you. Her arm hugs yours, her head leaning onto your shoulder. The other girls in the dormitory glances at you, but none of them say anything to you.
“Y/N, what do you want to do?” she asks. “Would you like to read anything? Or just sleep? Or anything else?”
“I think I’d just like to sleep”, you say quickly. “My nerves are still telling me that this is a bad idea.”
You don’t admit it out loud, but you want it to be over as quickly as possible before someone finds you out. Hedwig nods and turns off the lights. You lay down in the light of the moon and feel how Hedwig crawls down beside you. She pets your hair in a loving manner, feeling it gently.
“You have such pretty hair”, she whispers, making sure no one else hears. “I always stare at it. Have you caught me looking?”
“Actually, no”, you smile. “I know you look at me a lot, but I didn’t know you looked at my hair specifically.”
“I’m not only looking at your hair, silly. I think you’re pretty.”
“I think you’re pretty too, Hedwig.”
“Really? Do you really think so?”
You nod. She seems to burst with happiness.
“But you already know that”, you say. “Everyone loves you. Everyone tells you that.”
“Yes, but there’s a difference when someone you don’t care about says it and when someone you hold dear tells you.”
You smile. Hedwig’s hazel eyes glisten in the moonlight as she smiles widely and curls up in your arms, like a cat. She holds you tightly, hiding her own face into your neck. You’re not sure how, but you do fall asleep easily that night — snug and secure in her warm embrace.
The next morning, Hedwig doesn't want to let you go. She begs you to skip breakfast and lay in bed, buy you insist on eating.
“Before we go, could you please try my uniform?” Hedwig pleads and holds up the yellow and black uniform. “I want to see how you’d look like if you were a Hufflepuff. Please, Y/N? Just for fun?”
“We’ll be late for breakfast”, you mumble.
“Nonsense.”
She has already start to tug at your pajamas. You give in and put on the Hufflepuff uniform. Hedwig watches you with excited eyes.
“Oh, why weren't you placed in Hufflepuff?” she sighs. “Why weren’t you placed with me?”
“I don’t know, Hedwig.”
“It’s so unfair.” She pouts. “We belong together. We’re destined to be side by side. Why did the sorting hat have to put us in two different houses?”
“The sorting hat has its reasons. Now, give me back my own uniform so that I can go to breakfast.”
“Yeah, yeah …”
You change into your own uniform before sneaking out to the corridor with no one in sight. A small smile plays on your lips. You managed to to do it!
Together, you walk to the great hall but before you reach it, Professor Snape has caught the both of you.
“You two better follow with me”, he says coldly. “You’re both in deep trouble.”
Shit. He knows.
Hedwig takes your hand, squeezing it. You only have time to look at her terrified eyes before you’re pulled into Snape’s office. He’s not alone. It seems like the entire faculty staff is there. Hedwig’s squeeze becomes tighter.
“Y/N, you went into the Hufflepuff house this night”, Dumbledore says, not sparing any sweet talk. “That is strictly forbidden.”
“I made her do it”, Hedwig says firmly. “Y/N hesitated, I told her into it, I convinced her. Please don't punish her, I was the one giving out the password from the beginning."
"These are serious things, miss."
"I know. I just … I really want to be with Y/N." She takes your hand. "More than anything. I’m so sorry for causing all of this, professor. I will never do it again. Punish me only, please.”
“Snape, this is a clear sign of innocent love”, Dumbledore tells the other man.
You flinch. Love?
“I don’t care”, Snape mutters. “They broke the rules.”
“I don’t see any malice in their intentions. They only wanted to be with each other. I will not punish them — this time — but if they do this again, I will give them a week’s long detention in different classes. I can’t punish miss Hedwig all too much, after all, she is Y/N’s tutor. But if you break the rules again, Hedwig, we will find someone else to tutor her, is that clear?”
“Yes, professor”, Hedwig replies. “Thank you for not punishing us. We will make sure to behave.”
“You can go.”
Hedwig tugs on your hand before you leave. Your head is spinning with confusion. Who snitched you out? Did one of the girls do that? They could risk house points and to get in conflict with Hedwig … no they wouldn’t risk any of that. Then who?
“Breaking rules is so not Hufflepuff behavior”, a voice snickers.
You turn to the side, seeing Edmund lean against the wall.
“You spied on us?” you ask.
“Spy?” Edmund wonders and stands up. “I couldn’t care less about the two of you, don’t flatter yourselves. You two are like annoying, loud flies, I can’t ignore you because you’re always in my face.”
“Don’t listen to him”, Hedwig says and pulls on your arm. “Let’s go get some breakfast, Y/N.”
“Careful, Hedwig”, Edmund smirks. “You heard what they said: break one more rule and you lose tutor privileges over Y/N.”
You roll your eyes as the two of you walk alongside each other. Edmund’s words don’t feel good in your stomach and you have an eerie suspicion that he’s going to do something.
You sit out in the grass, reading. While Hedwig is having her defense against dark arts-class you have a free period. Deciding to take your alone time to your benefit, you decide to read up on some things beforehand.
"Where's your little halfblood?" you hear that voice ask.
You look up from your book, seeing Edmund and his two minions grin at you.
"In class", you answer shortly and start to change pages, hoping he gets the hint that you're busy and leaves you alone.
Edmund snatches the book from you. You cut your finger on the paper. With a hiss, you stand up. Edmund laughs as he looks in the book.
"I learned this last year", he chuckles. "You really are a transfer student. Cute."
"Give it to me", you sigh. "I'm not in the mood, I have to learn that."
"You won't learn from the book. We barely used it for this topic."
"Great. I'm doomed."
"I could offer you some tutoring. I got full marks after all."
You frown. "Why would you do that?"
"What can I say? I'm a generous spirit. Besides, I'm bored. Teaching a little mudblood magic could entertain me for a week or two."
"Don't you have class?"
"Not until twelve thirty." Edmund points at the castle wall with the book. "Sit down, mudblood, let's learn."
That 'nickname' makes your stomach turn. After knowing the full definition, you'd rather have Edmund call you something along the lines of a whore — that way you could actually have some clever comebacks. Mudblood, on the other hand, is nothing you can answer to. You sit down slowly. Edmund sits down on your left side and his two minions on your right side. Edmund opens the book and puts his finger to a paragraph.
"See this?" he asks. "This is something you have to learn in case you want to pass. The checklist doesn't contain this, but it will come anyway. So learn it."
You nod.
"Take up your wand", he says. "You have to learn this spell."
You pick up your wand from your pocket. Edmund orders one of his friends to stand in front of you as he holds his hand over yours, showing you how you're supposed to move. His hand is cold. The spell causes his friend's wand to be sent flying. You lay the word Expelliarmus onto your mind.
"This is actually great for dueling", he says. "We had some dueling classes last year, but I guess we'll have this year too. In that case, you'll have to have mastered these spells or you can kiss your ass goodbye."
"You'll end up in the hospital wing", one of Edmund’s friends grins.
"H-Hospital wing?" you say and damn yourself for stuttering.
The three of them chuckles.
"Yes, little girl, hospital wing", Edmund smirks darkly. "Ending up there is never fun. People often scream in pain there. If you end up there you'll never be the same again."
Your wide eyes make Edmund laugh. He presses the book in your arms and stands up.
"Let's make a deal", Edmund says. "Do you know what quidditch is?"
"Hedwig told me on the train", you reply.
"I play. If Slytherin wins the next match, you're going to be my little maid for a full week. You'll do everything I tell you to. And if those ridiculous Gryffindors win, you're free from polishing my shoes."
"I don't get anything either way."
"Don't be greedy, transfer student."
He takes your hand and shakes it before you have time to register.
"Now you can't back out", he smiles proudly.
"Did you enchant-?"
"Yes."
You rip your hand back, snatch your book and start to walk away. You meet up with Hedwig who's walking out of the classroom.
"What's wrong?" she asks quickly, rubbing your shoulder. "You look disturbed."
"Edmund and his friends cornered me outside. He forced me to make a deal with him."
Hedwig goes white. "What type of deal?"
"He plays quidditch and if he wins the next match, I have to be his maid for a week."
"Oh, my God, I hate him." She cups your cheeks. "We'll come up with a way to stop him or break the deal. Worst case scenario, we'll have to ruin for the entire Slytherin team and then we'll be dead, but if we have to then …"
You nod.
"Let's get you something to eat", Hedwig smiles and takes your hand.
She stays with you until your class starts. The second the classroom door closes, her smile drops. She makes her way over to the Slytherin entrance and waits for one to come out.
"What are you doing here?" the Slytherin girl asks.
"I need to speak to Edmund, do you know where he is?" Hedwig asks shortly.
"I'd suppose the quidditch court. He came in laughing and said that he had to train hard this time."
"That son of a- … thank you, for your help."
"No problem."
The Slytherin girl passes her and Hedwig scoffs. The audacity of Edmund …
She makes her way over to the quidditch court, finding him training all alone. He doesn't notice her at first, but when he does a smirk plays on his lips. He flies down to the ground and steps off his broom, holding it close to his body.
"Well, well", he says. "I start to believe that you're obsessed with me the way you're always hanging around. By the way, did you know that there's a rumor going around about you and Y/N? You're not slick, you know. Everyone knows that you're head over heels for her."
"Cut the talk, Edmund. Break the deal with Y/N. She has enough on her plate. I'm not going to let you hurt her."
"You came here to threaten me? Careful now, Hedwig, think about what you're doing."
"I'm not going to let you take her from me."
Edmund takes a step closer. His icy cold blue eyes seem to darken without having to change their light color. "Listen closely, you filthy, little halfblood", he hisses. "If you try to interfere — if you even try as much as to stick your pointy little nose into my business — I'll put you into the hospital wing until I'm done with Y/N. Is that clear?"
Hedwig can't answer. Edmund walks past her, intentionally hitting her shoulder with his.
The day for the match arrives.
"I think that I'm going to throw up", you mutter, taking a hold of the wood railing in front of you.
The two teams are flying above you, tension growing.
"I'm sure he won't win", Hedwig says, but she sounds hesitant.
“Slytherin has the lead!"
"Let's hope that the Gryffindor seeker gets the snitch."
"Did you manage to destroy for Edmund?"
Hedwig shakes her head carefully. You groan and rest your forehead down on the wooden railing. Another score has been made and you don't want to look. Finally, someone has caught the snitch. Slytherin wins. You look up in horror, eyes darting to Edmund. He's looking right at you with a smirk. You're dead.
Already the next morning, Edmund waits for you outside the Ravenclaw entrance. He dumps his heavy books in your hands.
"We're having a class together", he says. "And you are going to carry my books."
You groan and take a better grip on his — and your — books, unsure how you're going to carry them all to the other side of the school.
"Where's your friends?" you ask.
"They're still at breakfast", Edmund replies as you start to walk. "I don't need them now, not when you're carrying my things. Speaking of friends, I don't want you to be with that annoying Hufflepuff during the entire week."
"I'm not going to be your dog."
"Oh, yes, you are — and you're going to bark if I tell you to."
"What am I going to do when you're in class and I'm not, then? Be all alone?"
"Yes, because if I find out that you've been talking to her, I'm going to make you wish you never transferred here, got that?"
You nod. Edmund doesn't say anything more until you reach the classroom. He catches up with his friends who laugh loudly when they see you. Oh, how you wish that you knew any transfiguration spell that could turn you into a mouse.
"Look, she's embarrassed!" one of his friends mock.
Others start to turn to look at you with chuckles. Their stares burn right through you. You want to hide your face in the pile of books in your hands.
"Sit with me", Edmund says and grabs your tie to pull you with him. "You're going to take notes for me."
You sit down in the middle of the classroom. Edmund pushes you to the chair by the wall while he takes the aisle seat, trapping you. You take notes for him while simultaneously trying to ignore that he exists. Surprisingly, you're great at multitasking.
You give him the notes as soon as the class is dismissed. Edmund reads it with a smirk on his face.
"Good job, little girl", he says. "I can actually read them." He folds it and puts it in his pocket. "Now, let's go get some air."
Together with his two friends, you walk out to the courtyard. You can see Hedwig with some of her friends walking from the Herbology classroom. She hugs books close to her body, one being the Herbology book, the other a book about potions. You meet her eyes. She suddenly looks incredibly sad, but tries to give you a small, reassuring smile. You're close to jumping out of your skin when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning, you see that Edmund has noticed Hedwig as well. He squeezes your shoulder while keeping eye contact with the girl. Hedwig turns her eyes away and speeds her steps.
Not seeing Hedwig feels like a punishment in itself. Edmund and his friends aren't pleasant, at all — or at least not his friends, Edmund’s not been as bad as you thought. He's toned down on the vulgar nicknames and started small talking when you're walking.
"Stop fucking yawning", Edmund mutters and hits you in the back of your head.
"Why are we up before the sun?" you whine and rub your eyes.
"You're going to watch my quidditch practice."
He drags you out into the cold, autumn air, over to the high wooden pillars of the quidditch court. You're sat down in the Slytherin section and told to sit there until he's done. Edmund disappears to the changing room and comes out in his quidditch uniform. You sit still, watching. You can't quite understand the rules, even if you've already watched a match. You're unsure of what Edmund’s position is or what the flying balls are used for. Every minute grows colder. When the sun has risen, you're as cold as ice. You can no longer feel your fingers or toes.
Edmund flies over to you, now holding his Slytherin scarf and gloves in his hand.
"You're so stupid, why didn't you bring your own scarf?" he mutters while tying his around your cold neck.
"I barely knew who I was when I walked out of the common room", you mumble. "I was so tired. And now I'm cold and hungry."
"You do nothing but complain, do you? Breakfast is in an hour. Think you can hold out until then?"
You nod tiredly.
"Good girl" he says and puts the gloves on your cold hands. "Keep your hands in the gloves and put them in your pockets. You're like a child, unbelievable."
Ironic, coming from a brat like Edmund. You take a deep breath and sink into the seat. When Edmund’s done, he changes into his normal uniform and comes to meet you. You start to take off the scarf, but his hands stop you.
"Leave it on", he says shortly. "Come now."
The second you enter the castle, you feel warmer. You're about to remove the scarf for a second time.
"God, woman, just keep it on, will you?" Edmund mutters and ties it to the point where you choke.
"We're inside now, I don't need it anymore."
"Oh, trust me, you do."
"Why?"
Edmund smirks. "To give your girlfriend a sweet little memory."
"We're not together though."
Edmund furrows his brows and nods, clearly thinking hard.
"Very well", he says. "Winners keeper, I say."
"What?"
"Nothing."
His icy blue eyes sparkle in a new, competitive way, like he's now gotten a new challenge. His hands tie a double knot in the scarf before sending you off to the Ravenclaw table. The others give you weird glances. By now, it's not a secret that you're Edmund’s pet. Although it's only two days left of your week, you're sure that your reputation as his dog will stay with you throughout your entire schooling.
You look around, noticing Hedwig sitting by the Hufflepuff table. She looks at you with something you can't describe in her eyes, something dark. She holds something in her hand. You can just make out the outline of a small, pink bottle. She gives you a small, sad smile. All you want is to go over and hug her, but you remember Edmund’s warning. You have a class together after breakfast however, he can’t forbid you from going to it.
Your plate is already set out with a glass full of pumpkin juice. Devouring it would be an understatement — especially after the morning you’ve had. You're happy no one is taking a picture.
The day continues normally after Edmund’s rude awakening. You can meet up with Hedwig in Herbology class, and oh, how happy you're to see her. You hug her tightly, earning a mirroring squeeze back. She buries her head into your hair.
"I've missed you so much", she coos, hugging you tightly. “So, so much.”
You breathe her in, mind getting fogged up with her scent. Oh, how you want nothing more than to ditch Edmund and be with her. Hedwig doesn't seem to mind how you cling onto her and you’re surprised yourself with how much you want to hold onto her. She strokes your hair with a smile. Being back with Hedwig — despite Edmund's warnings — feels like absolute paradise. The few days spent apart has made you see her in a completely new light. You’ve forgotten how pretty she is.
"I can't watch that anymore", she sighs and starts to remove the Slytherin scarf from your neck. "Where is your scarf, dearest?"
"In my dormitory", you answer sheepishly.
Hedwig gives you a motherly stern gaze before taking off her Hufflepuff scarf and tying it around your neck. It smells just like her.
"That's better", Hedwig smiles. "Don't you think so?"
You nod. Much, much better. The teacher interrupts your talk with demands of the two of you working. You don't mind, because you work with Hedwig who knows exactly what to do.
"Would you like to read on the break?" Hedwig asks you.
You nod, not even thinking about Edmund’s threats. You follow her out to the yard, sitting on one of the brick walls with her. You lay down with her head in her lap while she reads aloud for you. You can't focus on the words, only how they're formed through Hedwig's pink lips. You want to feel them on yours. Before you have time to think, you reach up to kiss her. Her lips melt into yours instantly.Hedwig lets go of her book and cups her cheeks to kiss back. Fuck Edmund, you think. You pull Hedwig closer, wanting to be filled with her and her only. Everything about her is soft, even her kisses. They're filled with love and taste like strawberry.
"What the fuck are you doing?" the voice you've just damned says angrily. "I warned you, mudblood, didn't I?"
He rips you from Hedwig, up on your feet. Edmund glances from Hedwig to you, and back. He halts and grabs a hold of your face, opening your eyes with his thumbs.
"You sneaky bitch!" he gasps. "You've given her a love potion!"
"I have not", Hedwig replies defensively.
"Really? Then why are her pupils heart shaped?"
Hedwig doesn't answer. Edmund grabs a hold of your arms.
"If you excuse me, I'm going to go shove my fingers down her throat to get it out of her", he says coldly.
"You are not!" Hedwig screeches and rips you back.
"Then you'll get it out of her. I don’t care how, but Y/N is going to puke that love potion out before the break is over. Y/N is still mine, remember? I have two more days to do whatever I want with her."
Hedwig groans. Edmund, you, Hedwig and Edmund’s two friends make your way to the girls bathroom. The boys wait outside while Hedwig takes you into the bathroom stalls. She helps you throw up the love potion, holding your hair in her hands.
“And there goes my well earned breakfast …”, you sigh groggily and get up from your knees.
“I’m sorry, Y/N”, Hedwig whispers guiltily with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to trick you or anything, please don’t believe that. I-I just … I was scared that Edmund had manipulated you. I had to make sure that you knew that … he wasn’t good.”
You sigh and nod heavily. “I understand, but I had wished that you hadn’t given to me without my knowledge.”
“I’m really, really sorry. Can you please forgive me?”
The tears fall down her cheeks. You can’t be mad at her, not after every nice thing she’s done to you. You can see how bad she feels. You’re sure that she won’t do it again.
“Of course”, you say. “I’m just grateful that you didn’t make a potion that did something bad. It wasn’t the potion itself that was bad, it was the way you did it.”
“I understand. I’ll never do it again, I promise! I will never, ever do anything like that again!” She takes your hands and sniffles. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I-I do like you more than a friend … but I will not let that come between our friendship. Please don’t leave me. I can lose every single friend I have … but not you. Oh, God, not you.”
You can hear Edmund bang on the door to the girls bathroom impatiently and you sigh.
“I can’t spend time with you right now”, you say. “Edmund’s right — unfortunately — I have two more days in his captivity. If not, he’s promised to ruin my life. I don’t want to take that risk, I’ve had enough problems.” You squeeze her hands. “It’s just two more days.”
Hedwig sniffles and nods. “Okay.”
You give her a small smile before going back to Edmund. He tells his friends to take you further down in the corridor while he talks with Hedwig. She wipes her tears and glares at him.
“Silly girl”, Edmund scoffs. “You’re not that bright, are you?”
“I don’t know what you want Y/N, but at least I didn’t do anything to cause her harm, like you do”, Hedwig answers sharply. “I did something that would benefit her.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Y/N belongs to me now and if you don’t want to get hurt, Hedwig, stay out of my way, got it? I’m warning you. If I were you, I’d listen.”
Hedwig takes a step closer. “I’m not going to let anybody take her from me.”
Edmund’s eyebrow twitches. “Alright then. Suit yourself.”
With that said, he walks towards his friends and you, leaving Hedwig behind. He rips of the Hufflepuff scarf.
“Get that ugly thing off of your neck”, he mutters and drags you with him. “Can’t even leave you alone for five minutes! Can’t fucking believe that little filth. If Hedwig gets to play dirty, then I do too.” He stops to wipe of your lips. “If you ever kiss her again, I’ll kill her.”
You try push his arm off of you, but instead, it tightens and he gives you a stern look.
“I should just do it …”, he mutters.
“Do what?”
He gives your lips a quick peck. You stand as frozen, looking up at him in shock. Edmund rests his hand on your cheek.
“Never kiss her again.”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere drabbles#yandere oc x you#yandere fics#yandere mafia#yandere oc x reader#yandere stories#yandere harry potter au#yandere hogwarts#yandere witch#yandere wizard#female yandere#female reader
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Persimmon Problems
jaemin x reader
summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?
genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is
warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any
wc: 18.3k (oops)
a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)
You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink.
There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.”
You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.”
“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”
“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture.
It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try.
Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead.
“That looks like shit.”
“Trust the process,” he says.
“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?”
“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?”
“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit.
“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved.
“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?”
“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag.
“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack.
“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.”
“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?”
You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.”
“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically.
Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.”
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says.
“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him?
“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic).
Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?”
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?”
You don’t trust your voice so you nod.
“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.”
“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all.
“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does.
You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back.
Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush.
The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can.
By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break.
“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.”
“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere.
“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag.
“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Music to my ears, sweetheart.”
.
.
Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once.
It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away.
You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute.
Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can.
Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms.
A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops.
Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?).
“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.”
Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind.
“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him.
“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”
He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.”
“You can just call me YN,” you mumble.
“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes.
The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.”
“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly.
“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says.
“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you.
“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point.
“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says.
“Did you need a handshake?”
He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed.
“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else).
“Advice?”
“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?”
“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.”
You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?”
“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets.
President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position.
“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at.
“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council.
“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder.
“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?”
Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him.
“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.”
He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.”
“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse.
“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.
But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy.
You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone.
“Are you following me?”
Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.”
“As opposed to by myself at the table?”
He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.”
It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.”
“You could–”
“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you.
“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?”
“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him.
Jaemin pouts. “Why not?”
“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.”
“Not yet.”
Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.”
“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!”
“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.”
“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense.
“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.”
Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.”
“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you.
What just happened?
Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?”
“Yes–wait, how do you know him?”
Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.”
You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss.
“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun.
“He wants to be president.”
“Of student council?”
“Apparently.”
“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” Jisung stares at you.
“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!”
Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear.
.
.
For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up.
[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin.
You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you.
Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety.
You should have trusted your gut.
You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance.
In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester.
You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.”
Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.”
“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.”
He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.”
You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.
Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?
“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.
“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says.
“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other.
Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on.
“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper.
Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.”
“Are you even passing this class?”
Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades.
Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.
Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again.
Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class.
Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do.
But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale.
Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something.
“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.”
You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”
“I always do it!” Renjun says.
“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.”
“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.”
“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.”
Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you.
“What do you normally do during break?” You ask.
Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you.
You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?”
“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.”
You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.”
Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand.
You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.”
“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would.
He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.”
“Really?” You frown. “Why?”
“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.”
“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.”
Renjun raises his eyebrows.
“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.”
Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back.
“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.”
“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.”
.
.
Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you.
So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone.
“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?”
“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you.
Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.”
“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.”
“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen.
The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop.
A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.”
“That’s so much work.”
“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage.
“You okay?” Chenle shouts.
“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you.
He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you.
“So,” he says.
You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?”
“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did.
“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him?
“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.”
“And if I ask you?”
Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.”
“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops.
Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”
“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.”
“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”
“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin.
“I heard he’s running for president.”
“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily.
“Why are you helping him?”
“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?”
“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says.
“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”
“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either.
“I know what I’m doing.”
Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.”
“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say.
“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.”
“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.”
“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.”
“You don’t have the power to do that.”
He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?”
You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!”
Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises.
He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing.
“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room.
You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out.
You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning.
[Na Jaemin] you busy?
.
.
For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes.
You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications.
Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait.
But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications.
The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not.
You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.”
“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.”
Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?”
You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it.
“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.”
You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?”
“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.”
“Don’t you have a lab partner?”
“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.”
“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach.
“So are you free?”
Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now.
“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?”
“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?”
“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.”
“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.”
“Bye, Jaemin.”
The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate.
.
.
Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way!
Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med.
Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up.
The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage.
“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?”
“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!”
You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene.
“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!”
“Well, you’re not physically possible!”
“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.”
“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle.
“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it.
Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops.
“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.”
“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.”
Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.”
“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications.
[Na Jaemin] in the library
[Na Jaemin] lost in the library
[Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs
[yn] need me to come find you?
[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please)
“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting.
“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.”
“Why?”
Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?”
“Is there any other?”
“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.”
“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation.
“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”
“That’s not at all what I want.”
“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.”
“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly.
He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever.
“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more.
[yn] on the way now 👍
Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.”
You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.”
Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought.
Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies).
“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone.
“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.”
“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness.
[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪
[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥
[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼
You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.”
Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.”
“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.”
“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.”
You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering.
Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.”
“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work.
“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for.
“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.”
“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly.
“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.”
“How come?”
“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.”
“Fresh-tern?”
“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not.
“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.”
“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says.
“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?”
He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.”
You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him?
You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash.
“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information.
Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.”
“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes.
“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.”
“None of you are poli-sci?”
“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.”
“You really hate them?”
“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory.
“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead.
“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.”
“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?”
“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.”
“No!”
“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.”
“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you.
Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it.
You eye him. “Do you even need these?”
“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile.
.
.
“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there.
That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot.
“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots.
At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces.
“What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts.
“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts.
“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout.
“To the grave!” Renjun shouts.
“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’”
“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol.
“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”
“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?”
“Professor Ahn,” she says.
“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.”
She smiles even wider. “Really?”
You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge.
The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name.
Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute.
You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave.
Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards.
You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t.
“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms.
“Jaemin.” You grin at him.
He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny.
But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips.
Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.”
You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.”
Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee.
You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.”
He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?”
“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting.
Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers.
Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways.
Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.
Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side.
“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word.
Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass.
“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone.
Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.”
You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round.
Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps.
Yeah, you’re definitely staring.
Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist.
“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music.
You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.”
Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?”
“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours.
As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free.
He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk.
The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty.
Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away.
The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights.
You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back.
The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from?
So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters.
Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.”
“Do you know what persimmons taste like?”
“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked.
“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out.
He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something.
“You feeling okay?”
It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.”
Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?”
“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.”
“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?”
“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.”
“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?”
“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like?
“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it.
“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?”
You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.”
Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?”
“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry.
“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.”
You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?”
Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost.
“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up.
“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says.
“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?”
“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?”
You shrug. “It’s fun.”
“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries.
“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!”
Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves.
Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all.
He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?
“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.”
“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes?
“What?”
He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.”
You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard.
The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too.
“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it.
“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined.
Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?”
“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he.
“Take me home?”
He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.”
You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling.
The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his.
“Goodnight, YN,” he says.
No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his.
“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?”
He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.”
You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.
Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed.
“I don’t normally have company,” you explain.
“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?”
You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.”
“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear.
You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total.
“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.”
“The one in red?”
You nod.
Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit.
Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it.
You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him.
He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest.
Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily.
“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.”
You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?”
Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it.
He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?”
.
.
[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :(
[Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up
[Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise
[Na Jaemin] [image attached]
[Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3
You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been.
No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours.
Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin.
“Hey,” Renjun says.
“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching.
“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.”
“And how’s Donghyuck doing?”
“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.”
You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.”
“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.”
“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen.
Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time.
An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up.
“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila.
“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.”
“Do you want toast?” You offer.
He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely.
“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”
“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?”
“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face.
“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small.
He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen.
1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first
2) he pretended not to know you were running
3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone
4) he never belonged in your world
The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand.
Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful.
“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.”
“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late.
“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute.
“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.”
“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.”
“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?”
“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.”
You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.”
“Okay, I’m not understanding.”
“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”
“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.”
“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.
“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.”
“That would be too easy,” you mutter.
Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.”
“That’s what you said last time,” you say.
“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.”
You snort.
“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.”
You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?”
Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.”
You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart.
It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start.
Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart.
“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–”
“Did you know that I was running for president?”
Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”
“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white.
He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.”
“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.”
Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob.
.
.
Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat.
.
.
Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out.
But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all.
And today, Chenle got a puppy.
She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet.
“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed.
“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly.
“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!”
“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.”
“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!”
“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!”
You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?”
He shrugs. “She’s really cute.”
“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head.
“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.”
“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand.
“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter.
Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.”
“What are you talking about?” You eye him.
“How was the sex?”
“You’re seriously asking me that?”
He shrugs. “Well, yeah.”
You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.”
Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.”
“That’s not at all what I said.”
“And yet you’re not denying it.”
“Please shut the fuck up.”
For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you.
“Just tell me.”
Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.”
“Of school?”
He rolls his eyes. “The election.”
You stare at him. “Seriously?”
“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email.
“But it doesn’t make any sense.”
Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?”
You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze.
“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?”
“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.”
You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain.
“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’”
Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize.
And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming.
.
.
How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol.
“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.”
He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?”
“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.”
Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!”
Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung.
“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says.
“You better be fun, then,” you say.
Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in.
The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines.
When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this.
You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go.
He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing.
“Hi,” you say.
He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?”
An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?”
He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?”
You shake your head.
“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest.
When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you.
But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.”
He nods slowly.
“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.”
Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?”
“Do you?”
He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you.
“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me.
“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.”
Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.”
He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?”
You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy.
“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.”
For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.”
“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his.
“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?”
“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.”
He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.”
You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?”
“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.”
You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.”
“They really don’t like me,” he says.
You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist.
“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask.
He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had.
.
.
You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s).
Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound.
You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.”
“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident.
“What’re you doing?”
“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist.
“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.”
“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.
“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.
“Good answer,” you say.
He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.”
“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?”
He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.”
He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early.
“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball.
“A persimmon?”
“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.”
You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding.
“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says.
“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.”
He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.”
“Jay-Z?”
“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.”
You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.”
“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?”
Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him.
“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.”
thank you for reading!
#🌟 stars galaxy#nct#nct dream#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct reader#nct fanfic#nct dream fanfic#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#nct fluff#nct angst#jaemin#na jaemin#nct jaemin#jaemin x reader#jaemin fluff#jaemin angst
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