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slaysksmska · 24 days

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The river and the princess

Word Count: 2500+

Chapter three

part one

(Go to part one for all the other chapters)

NINA’S POV:

I was walking down the hall with May, Zoe, and the new girl Hannah, who quickly made friends with Zoe and May. I didn’t know why, but I felt a wave of relief crashing over me when I didn't feel Niyyah’s suspicious presence circling around me and my friends. Nowadays, Niyyah only hangs out with the grade 7 or 8 students. I don’t know why or what we did but she barely even hangs out with us unless we start the conversation. She has changed so much now.

She's skipping classes, wearing crop tops and booty shorts while trying to get more attention from the boys. Whenever we do talk, it’s always about her crushes and how boys are cute or how she has the best taste in boys. She also learned how to do makeup and wears it everyday. Personally, I don’t think she even needs makeup. She’s not the ugliest person ever but certainly isn’t the prettiest either.

As we walked to our next class, Zoe and May were telling Hannah all about the school and our different teachers. Hannah had a few questions, as expected, Zoe sucked at explaining. I wondered how she even understood what Zoe was saying.

I was in the middle of my sentence when I felt a hard push, which smashed me against the wall. My nose started bleeding from the impact and I wondered if it was broken. I turned around and saw Nyla standing right behind me with her jaw clenched and anger evident in her eyes. She pinned me to the wall with my back against it, so that I was facing her. She leaned in close to me and grabbed my shirt, pulling me up.

“Why the fuck would you put that note in my locker, pretending to be Eshaan?” She asked, angrily.

What was she talking about? I never wrote any notes. Has she gone crazy? I heard about her date with Eshaan back in the bus, but for it to be fake is insane.

“I didn’t write anything, what are you talking about?” I whispered, since I could barely speak.

“Yes, you fucking did! It was your handwriting!” She screamed at me.

“No, I didn’t.” I argued back at her, not letting her blame me for something I didn’t do.

Clearly that angered her, considering she started yelling at me and punching my face. I punched her back, as a flight or fight instinct kicked in. My nose was still bleeding, even more now, from all the hits to my face. She tackled me on the floor and managed to get on top, basically straddling my waist as she landed more and more punches. I couldn’t see that well anymore, my vision was blurred and my ears were ringing. There was commotion all around me, people were filming and some were screaming for help from one of the teachers. I saw the bright flash of phone lights all in my face.

I can’t believe I was getting my ass kicked in front of most of the school. I know I was going to get made fun of even more. I saw my friends trying to help me, but they were held back by some strangers, who clearly enjoyed the fight and wanted more free entertainment. Finally, the teachers came and pulled her off of me. My eyes were all puffy and watery. I could taste the metallic taste of crimson blood at the back of my throat, as they stood me up.

“Fucking pyscho!” I yelled at her, too tired to do anything else.

I could now clearly see that I also did some damage to her and it was evident, judging from her busted lip and the bruises all over her arms. Plus, the crescent nail marks all on her forearms from me digging my fingers into her, as an attempt to stop the relentless blows. They took me too, but before I could do anything, I passed out in their arms.

I woke up with a start, wondering where I was. The blinding light felt too bright for my sore eyes and I smelt the revolting stench of rubbing alcohol from the giant bottle of sanitizer next to me. I reached up to rub my eyes when I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder area. I quickly put my arm down when I suddenly jumped from hearing an unknown voice speak to me.

“Careful, honey, don’t raise your arm up. You got hit pretty bad there, along with some other spots. Don’t touch it or make it sore, so that it can heal properly and doesn’t bother you. I know it will feel a bit uncomfortable for the first few days, sweetie.” She said, sympathetically.

I looked down at the name placard on her desk, and quickly learned her name was Mrs. Brown. I now recognized her. She’s the school nurse, but I’ve never really talked to her. I’ve only politely greeted her, while walking through the school, never actual conversations.

“I’m going to lift up your shoulder, so I can put on this splint to make it heal better. Thankfully, it’s just sprained and there are no major injuries on you, even though it probably felt like it. Just a couple bruises and cuts.” She told me, while walking over.

She lifted up my hand carefully and I hissed at the feeling of pain. She gave me a small smile of pity, apologising for it while putting my hand through the splint. After that, she let me put my arm back down and rest. I was getting a bit bored and I couldn’t sleep so I started humming and tapping my finger on the scratchy, cotton blanket. Seeing this, she decided to make conversation.

“You got hit pretty bad, what happened?” She asked me.

“I got into a fight with some girl, she came up and punched me after accusing me of something I didn’t do” I told her, slowly remembering what happened.

“Oh yeah, there was a girl in here before you. Black hair, a little bit past her shoulders? Nyla, I think, was her name.” She asked

“Yeah, that’s her” I said, irritated just at the mention of her name.

“She left earlier, and wasn't in as bad a condition as you. Just a cut lip and some bruises.” She remarked

I nodded silently and went back to tapping the blanket. I wonder what Nyla was saying about the note. Would she really think that I would do that? She’s never done anything like this, usually just says a few mean words and leaves. Not once has she put her hands on me. I never would write a note, tricking someone in a cruel way. That’s beyond evil and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It’s not fun to have your feelings played with. I hope nobody at school will blame me for it.

Do you know how embarrassing it’s going to be to go back after getting beat up? That video is definitely going to be spread all over the school. I just hope they feel sorry for me instead of laughing at me. What am I going to do with Nyla? When I can go back to school, is she going to hit me again? Is she going to be meaner than usual? And my sister. She better not still be friends with her after all of that. I’d never speak to her again.

Where were Zoe, May, and Niyyah? Oh, and the new girl, Hannah. It was probably scary to see something that graphic on the first day of school. We already have a pretty bad rep, don’t want to make it worse. I doubt that Niyyah even asked about me. She’s forgotten all of us and is too busy trying to be popular. She’s so shallow and fake. I saw her in the crowd, with a smug smile on her face and her phone out, recording the whole thing. What’s with the sudden change of feelings towards us?

Abruptly, the phone started ringing and Mrs. Brown went over to answer it, all while the constant ringing brought back my headache. I heard Mrs. Brown tell them that she’d be sending me down. She hung it up and looked at me.

“Honey, they’re calling you down to the principal’s office. Are you going to be okay to go down there by yourself or do you need some help?” She asked me, softly

“No, I’ll be fine, thank you for all the help” I said, smiling, trying to use my kindest voice.

She smiled back and opened the door for me, so I could leave. As I stood up, my head still spinning, I headed over to the office. My heart was pounding, so many thoughts going through my head. What did they want, what was going to happen, was I going to be punished? These lingering questions raced through my head as I went up to the tall and wide, oak door. I knocked once and was let in.

To my surprise, I saw Nyla, her family and mine too, sitting on the black leather seats. My mom gestured to come sit beside her, so I quickly went, desperate to be out of the spotlight. I saw Aleena smiling at me but I ignored her, filled with rage that she knew what Nyla was doing to me, yet she still continued to hangout with her. I could hear my parents arguing with Nyla’s parents when suddenly, the principal started talking.

“I suppose you know why I gathered you all here but I will still explain. I expect you all to be silent until I finish talking, to avoid making things more complicated than they already are” She said, voice booming across the room.

I was more nervous than ever, my palms were already sweaty, and I was sure there was some accumulating on my forehead. I comforted myself by saying that I had nothing to be worrying about as she started it, and everything I did was in self defence. She cleared her throat before commencing to talk.

“As you all know, your two daughters had gotten into a fight during recess, which resulted in many minor, but still present, injuries, along with a student passing out. This behaviour is unacceptable and the culprit will be punished with a suspension.” She told us, assertively.

“We have video camera footage of who started the fight and if anyone could admit it now, there will be less severe consequences. Please tell the truth." She asked us.

I looked up to see if Nyla would say anything, but she continued staring ahead. Clearly, she thinks she’s done nothing wrong which is quite the opposite. The principal typed away at her keyboard and pulled up a video file, which was a recording of the hallway cameras. She rewinded the video all the way to the start, which showed an angry Nyla pushing me against the wall and the rest of the fight. My parents looked away, unable to watch the scene where their daughter gets beaten up. Nyla’s parents looked away in shame as they watched the video of their daughter’s violent actions, angry at her for her unfiltered rage and disappointed at her behaviour, especially at school. Nyla just crossed her arms in annoyance and scoffed at the scene, while sinking in her seat, almost looking like she wanted to disappear. “I could’ve gone for longer if she didn't pass out.” She murmured to herself, loud enough for me to hear it. Her parents' eyes both widened and they started quietly scolding her for her awful words. I shuddered at the thought of more of her pent-up rage. I couldn’t watch the video anymore and looked down, playing with my fingers like I do when I’m bored or anxious. This time, it was the latter. Anxiety and nervousness filled my body at the visual reminder of the fight and the pain. Suddenly, the video flashed off-screen and was replaced by the blue and white desk-top of Mrs. Peterson’s PC. She then whipped her head angrily over at Nyla as if asking for an explanation for her savage behaviour towards me. “I was just reminding her not to pretend to be other people just because she’s bored of her annoying personality, It’s called consequences” She responded to Mrs. Peterson's harsh gaze. Nyla didn’t even bat an eye and just glared back at her. It was as if she was used to being in the office.

“Consequences of what? Either way, you shouldn’t resort to violence, no matter what.” She told her, sternly.

“She put a fake love note in my locker and tricked me, she had it coming. She can’t just play with my feelings like that, it’s cruel.” She told her

“I didn’t do that! She’s accusing me of something I didn’t do!” I shouted at her, bursting with anger.

“Girls! Calm down, this is an office, not a playground.” Mrs. Peterson said with a look of annoyance on her face.

“Anyways, as I was saying, it seems like this ‘note’ was the cause of the fight. Nyla, do you remember when you got that note and what period it was? Maybe then we can figure out who broke into your locker, by finding the footage”

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere with this stupid meeting.” She grumbled

“It was on Friday, after the second break. I have the note, here.” She said as she fished the crumpled note out of her pocket.

The principal once again typed and found the footage. She sped through the video until she saw a figure walk up to Nyla’s locker. She turned the computer around so we could see. The video showed the person, hood up, walking to the locker, looking around to make sure nobody was there and then, slipping it through the crack. Then they turned around and we had a clear shot of their face. My heart stopped as I saw the same buck teeth and dead, frizzy hair that belonged to Niyyah.

I was in shock and it must have appeared on my face because my mother squeezed my hand and said I had nothing to worry about, I was innocent. But she was wrong, after all mothers can be wrong, and oh so wrong she was. Niyyah had betrayed us, betrayed our friendship, betrayed our trust. She set me up and she knew what she was doing behind our backs while acting like she was our friend. I wondered if anybody else was involved, the strong willed, smart May perhaps, or maybe the shy, protective Zoe. I was fuming, mad at myself that I overlooked all the clues, mad at Niyyah for just playing us, mad at Nyla for beating me up over some stupid note that I never wrote. And I was getting revenge.

#light angst #fluff #lesbian #lesbianism #lgbtq #enemies to lovers #basketball #cute #my fic #wlw #wlw post #wlw yearning #saphic

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turtlesperhaps · 2 years

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incorrect quotes generator + my ocs my beloveds

#but why does this work perfectly for these idiots lol #oc paul #oc inez #oc aleks #oc rob #my art #enjoy my handwriting that has not changed since middle school

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whisperednarratives · 3 years

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okay but katsuki would definitely pick up your drunk ass from the local bar at 2am.

you’re not even dating but you’ve been best friends for a while now. after graduating from ua you started your own agencies and decided to live together in a nice apartment near your respective workplaces. it was convenient and both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other’s company. though you claimed there were no ‘feelings’, everyone knew that the unspoken didn’t even need to be put into words.

maybe it was the way you would always carry a brown bag to work that said your name on it in bakugo’s handwriting or the random calls your secretary would have to make to his office to make sure he’d had lunch that day. or maybe it was the way bakugo would find you asleep on the couch the days he worked late or the way you’d always find your laundry washed and folded away in your closet even though you swore you’d planned on doing it later.

you’d both taken care of each other for so long that it didn’t matter that neither of you had dated anyone since high school. although your friends talked about how weird it was, you both always brushed off any possibility of possibly being together.

at present, he would be pacing around the living room way past his bedtime (as you liked to call it) which he’s maintained since middle school, reminding himself that you’re smart enough to not get into trouble when his phone rings. furrowing his eyebrows, he rushes to the device before sighing when he sees mina’s name flash across the screen.

“what do you want?”

bakugo barely hears mina’s response over the thumping bass that reaches his ears through his phone. it seems like everyone around her is screaming and he almost doesn’t care until he hears your name.

“BAKUGO! CAN YOU PLEASE PICK UP Y/N?”

eyes widening, bakugo quickly presses the speakerphone button before rushing into his bedroom to get some pants.

“what happened? is she okay?”

“YEAH, SHE’S FINE. SHE’S JUST HAD TOO MUCH TO DRINK. WE HAD TO STOP HER FROM STRIPPING ON TOP OF THE BAR AND SHE WON’T STOP ASKING FOR YOU. WE’RE AT THAT PLACE NEAR KIRI’S APARTMENT, CAN YOU COME?”

annoyance floods through bakugo’s body faster than you can imagine. annoyance at mina’s constant yelling and your irresponsible behaviour. this is exactly why bakugo tells you not to drink unless he’s around. you always go overboard or end up hurting yourself and he cannot believe that once again you chose not to listen to-

“BAKUGO! ARE YOU THERE?”

almost forgetting his friend on the phone, bakugo quickly grabs his keys.

“yeah, yeah. i’m coming. just make sure she doesn’t get hurt okay?”

it takes him about five minutes to reach the bar and his eyes instantly scan his surroundings to find you. what he doesn’t expect is to see you pointing excitedly at the small tv screen that’s been set up above the bar playing a clip from his most recent fight with a villain.

he approaches the crowd that’s surrounded you as he gets close enough to hear your enthusiastic rambling.

“DID YOU SEE THAT? THE WAY HE PUNCHED THAT GUY IN THE FACE? THIS IS WHY DYNAMIGHT’S MY FAVOURITE HERO AND MY BEST FRIEND!”

he sucks in a breath when you make eye contact with him, your smile growing even bigger.

“GUYS, LOOK! IT’S DYNAMIGHT!”

you push through the crowd to wrap your arms around his neck and bakugo’s nose is immediately flooded with your familiar scent.

“KATSUKIIIIIIII! you came! i knew you’d come! look, i made new friends. i was just telling them about how awesome you are!”

your words are slurred and your eyes gleaming when you pull away from his chest. your hands stay hooked around his neck as you twirl him around.

“tch, of course i came dumbass. let’s go, i’m here to take you home.”

“but katsukiiiiiii, i don’t want to leave. we’re having so much fun.”

bakugo finds it hard to look you in the eyes whenever you make that face. that ugly pout your lips fall into, eyes widening as you try not to trip over your own feet. it’s so annoying that bakugo wants to kis- punch it off of you.

“shut up idiot. we’re leaving, come on, get on my back.”

he knows you’ve given up when you get on his back without saying another word. he sees mina watching the whole ordeal from a corner booth, a smug smile plastered on her face. rolling his eyes, bakugo approaches his pink haired friend.

“didn’t expect you to be up past 8pm bakugo, thought you couldn’t make plans past your curfew.”

“shut up, raccoon eyes. if you tell anyone about this, especially shitty hair or dunce face, i’ll blast you into another country myself.”

the journey home isn’t that long considering your apartment is nearby but bakugo knows you’ve fallen asleep by the way you’re snoring away in the passenger seat. he drives much slower and more carefully, not wanting to wake you up.

carrying you up to your apartment isn’t that hard either, seeing as your eyes stay closed until he’s placed you onto the bed in his room. when he comes back with the makeup wipes you keep stacked away in his bathroom, you’re sitting up as you try to tie your hair.

“give me that.”

bakugo takes the hair tie from your hands and puts your hair into the best ponytail he can manage before he gets to work on your face.

“thank you, katsuki.” you whisper, letting him clean all of the remaining makeup off your face with a warm towel.

bakugo just nods before finishing up and helping you climb back into the covers. tucking you in, he sighs as you stare up at him sleepily with a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“what? go to sleep already, loser.”

“nothing, you’re just really pretty katsuki.”

bakugo can’t help but be thankful that it’s dark in his room and that your eyes instantly close after saying what you had, because he knows he won’t be able to explain the way his face has flooded with heat.

fucking dumbass. he thinks to himself, after pushing your hair away from your face.

placing a glass of water and advil on his bedside table he leaves the room, making sure there’s a fresh change of clothes next to you for the morning after.

and like i said, the unspoken doesn’t even need to be put into words.

#bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #mha katsuki #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki fanfiction #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader

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works-of-fanfiction · 3 years

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“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

_______________

No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #oneshot #blur #request #anon request

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

376 notes · View notes

omigiry · 4 years

Text

Sleepy 💤

Middle Blockers with a sleepy s/o

warnings: none

━━━ 𝙏𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖

He really doesn’t care if you fell asleep in class, but would compile notes for you if you ever did end up sleeping for the rest of the class.

Whenever you study together you’d always end up falling asleep as well or requesting for a nap.

He’s confused as to why you could sleep so much even if you get a whole 8 hours of sleep or even more.

You yawned as your handwriting became unreadable, your eyes were starting to slowly close and your visions were blurry. It was a sign that you needed to sleep.

“It’s only an hour into studying.” Tsukishima said as he saw you shaking your head trying to stay awake. Despite your sleepiness you still easily caught up on the lessons except for a particular subject that you hate.

“No more studying, please. Sleep is needed.”

“It’s only 8pm.” He loves to prolong a conversation when you’re sleepy just to see you suffering, but in reality he enjoyed your adorable whining expression. How you would pout, how your eyebrows creased together, and your eyes squinted.

“Yeah, and it’s time for sleep.”

“No, you need to finish this assignment first.”

You grumbled at him and glared at the book in front of you.

“I can do it tomorrow. I’ll wake up by 4am and do it.”

“I don’t trust you with that.” He said. If the subject is scheduled in the afternoon he knows that you would do tha assignment during break time. He knows that you could finish it, but cramming is not a good habit.

“If you finish this right now, I’ll let you borrow my hoodie that you could sleep in.” With that statement coming out of his mouth it was enough to motivate you and try to stay awake as much as possible.

━━━ 𝙃𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙖

A sunshine. He would literally be beaming early in the morning.

When he visits your classroom during break he could see that you were sleeping at your desk. He would let you rest for a few minutes before waking you up to eat.

You couldn’t be mad at him for waking you up.

“Is (y/n) here?” Hinata asks one of your classmates. When they pointed to you, you were already sleeping at your desk.

He entered the classroom and took the seat available in front of you. He puts his lunch box down and would just look at you while you sleep, sometimes he would play with your hair.

20 minutes later, he wakes you up to have lunch together. You woke up with a frown on your face ready to fight whoever woke you up, but your expression quickly changed when you saw Hinata in front of you.

“It’s time to have lunch. As much as sleep is important, eating is also important.” He said as he sets his lunchbox in front of you.

You were blinking away the sleep from your eyes and grabbed your lunchbox as well.

He would start a conversation and by how he was smiling at everything he says to you, it helps you wake up. You hated the beam of the morning sun, but this was something you’d always want to wake up to.

━━━ 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙬𝙖

Annoys you whenever he sees you asleep in the classroom, but he would let you sleep in peace occasionally.

Whenever you would fall asleep when he’s next to you he would let you lean on his shoulders.

He tried giving you coffee every morning but it has no effect. You couldn’t drink straight black coffee so that was out of the option.

First thing in the morning when he got to school, he saw you in class already asleep. It’s a surprise that you could come to school early just to sleep.

He puts his bag down on his seat before he goes to you. He pokes your arm to wake you up and he will not stop until you do.

You were slowly waking up and knew who’s annoying you first thing in the morning.

“If you do not stop, I’ll break that finger.” You threatened him.

“Sheesh, no need to be violent. Can’t I just want to see your beautiful face?”

You lifted your head and looked at him with a deadpan expression. He compliments you, but this one was something to annoy you.

“Come on, let’s go buy some drinks. You're low on sugar.” He pulled you to get up and dragged you out of the classroom. You try to get away from his grip wanting to sleep more.

━━━ 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙪

Already has so much energy first thing in the morning and it will not run out for the whole day.

He would greet you with a smile and wants to talk to you about the latest chapter of manga he was reading but when he sees your head bobbing down he would stop talking and would gently lay down your head on the table.

He may look sleepy but in reality you were the one who is actually sleepy. He may be playful and loves to tease whoever he is close with but he wouldn’t dare annoy you when you’re asleep.

It was lunch break and Tendou was excitedly talking about his current favorite series. You were listening to everything said, afterall you also share the common interest. He would suggest some of his favorites that you haven’t checked out yet and tell you the gist of the series, characters, and some of his favorite arcs.

As you listened to him, your eyes were slowly closing. It’s not because you aren’t interested anymore, Tendou knows that, it was because of the time. You always feel sleepy after eating.

“You always fall asleep when I’m getting on the good parts.” He says.

“Tell me more about it later. It seems interesting.”

“Did you binge another series last night?”

You nodded and yawned. You doze off as he gently puts your head down on your desk.

━━━ 𝙆𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙤

Would also let you lean on his shoulders and offer an arm for you to hug.

You’d always end up sleeping on your ride back home, and when it has gotten to a point where you missed your stop it was a wise decision to wait for Kuroo and go home together so he could wake you up. Sometimes you would end up also falling asleep while waiting for him.

He’d entwine your hands together if you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You were waiting for Kuroo to finish his practice as you finish your homework so you could sleep and relax once you get home. You were waiting for them by the court but when practice got intense and there would be a lot of stray balls you decided to go to the second floor of the gym and sat down there on the floor, since it was only a small walkway for people to watch from above.

Kuroo didn’t notice that you went there so when they were taking a break and did not see you at your usual spot, he was confused. If you went home early, you would inform him or at least wait for them to have a break so you could tell him.

“Are you looking for (y/n)?” Coach Naoi asked.

“Yes, have you seen her coach?”

Coach Naoi pointed at where you were located and Kuroo went up there. He saw you leaning on the pillar of the wall with a notebook loosely held in your hands. Kuroo sighed and shook his head, but he found it adorable, he went back down to grab his jacket and put it over you.

He let you sleep peacefully as practice resumed and only woke you up once it was over. He was amazed that you could sleep through all the shouting they made when they play.

━━━ 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙖

He’s also sleepy as much as you are. When he sees you asleep on your desk, he would also sleep next to you, he also puts his head down next to yours.

When he realizes that you’re a sleepy head he starts to bring a small pillow for you so you could be comfortable.

If both of you were sleeping, that means someone needs to wake you up before the teacher comes. The twins were the one who does this, and find the most annoying ways to wake you two up.

There was a vacant hour because of an emergency meeting between the school faculty. Suna went to the lockers and grabbed the pillow he leaves there for you. He knows that if there’s a vacant time you would spend it either asleep or scrolling through your phone.

Once he returned to the classroom he pulled his chair and put it next to you.

“Already sleepy?” You asked him as he laid his head down on your desk.

Suna hummed. “Not yet, I’ll just sit next to you until I do. I’m pretty sure you’ll be the first one to fall asleep though.” He replied.

“Is that a bet?”

“You guys are so weird, who would make a bet on who would fall asleep first?” Osamu commented. You both ignored him as you turned your attention back to your phone and Suna did so as well. “It’s like I’m invincible when these two are together.” Osamu sighed.

“You’re not the only one.” Atsumu added.

Eventually you and Suna dozed off at the same time. Suna taking up the most space on your desk you ended up resting your head on his back. Five minutes before the next teacher comes to the classroom, Atsumu blasted loud music near your ear. When you woke up, you were ready to throw your shoes at him. Suna wouldn’t even stop you, in fact he would be the one encouraging you, along with Osamu, as he readies his phone to record the moment.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima x reader #hinata shoyo headcanons #hinata shoyo x reader #matsukawa headcanons #matsukawa x reader #tendou headcanon #tendo x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x reader #suna headcanons #suna x reader

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maplecornia · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.06K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: everytime I upload a chapter my tags increase LMAO i hope you guys are enjoying the story so far ^^ BTW when they're speaking and their words are bolded that means they're speaking in English just a heads up ;)

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne

What is he doing here?

And whose clothes do those belong to?

You mouth his name, and in his eyes, you can see the surprise turn to shame.

The sick feeling in your stomach grows bigger.

You pray that you're wrong. That for the first time in your life, your intuition isn't correct. That what you think happened was merely a misunderstanding. That he didn't do what you think he did.

You want to reassure yourself that you didn't give up your heart in vain.

That he still loves you.

But everything points to the signs.

The fact that he only wears boxers, his smooth muscled skin shining in the soft moonlight.

The pile of mixed clothes on the floor.

The look in his eyes and the ruffled mess of his hair.

Everything tells you what you already know.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice shaking. He doesn't meet your eyes.

The sick feeling grows deeper in your chest.

"What's going on?" you repeat, your voice stronger and more severe.

Even if your heart can't stand strong, at least you can.

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead, you hear a woman's voice from the bedroom.

Your bedroom.

"Babe, who is that?" you can't seem to look away from the door that it materialized from, as he looks between it and you, unsure of what to do. As though he were the one trapped. As though he were the one who was in pain. As though he were the victim here.

Instead of the murderer.

As she comes into view in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and running her hands through her hair, you can't move. You're frozen, and the world completely disappears, a roar of static noise rising in your ears.

No.

NO.

This can't be happening. Not to you. You were so careful. You were so sure. So sure that he felt the same. So sure that he was yours and yours alone. So sure that nothing would be able to break what you shared. That you had finally found the one.

However, as she looks at you, her green eyes spark with realization. Then as they quickly turn to shame, she avoids your gaze as well.

You know.

This is happening.

It's real.

And there's no turning back from it.

You can't feel yourself as you start to cry.

In the shower, the hot water clings to your skin, mixing with the tears. You lean against the tiled wall, squeezing your eyes shut, you cling to yourself. Nails digging into your flesh, you bite your lip, shaking violently.

Mixed images of his face flash through your mind unwillingly.

Hiding alone, the steam surrounding you in a thick veil of deception, you give in to the pain.

You allow the tears to come.

You allow his face to stare into yours once more. You paint the same hazelnut gaze of his eyes. You try to recall the safety you once felt when he held you in his arms. You pull pieces of the same warmth that rose in your cold body flushing your face when he smiled at you, out of the depths of your mind. You look for the tenderness reflecting in his eyes when he whispered that he loved you. You sigh as you remember the way his curly hair had felt on your skin as you ran your hands through it. You picture his perfectly sculpted face, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes. The strong jaw and full lips. The curve of his throat and the touch of his body.

The mirage holds you in its embrace, makes you forget everything, all the pain, all the hurt, the betrayal that tore your soul apart for his pleasure.

However, when it leans in to kiss you, your eyes fly open to reality, and you find yourself hugging your body, the shower still running.

Shaking your head, you proceed to clean yourself, hoping that perhaps the water could wash away the pain.

Some things weren't enough. Some things are not good to dwell over. Some things are better left locked away.

In the end, it wasn't real.

None of it was real.

Done with the shower, you turn the water off, strands of hair falling in your face, and droplets of water dripping off of your body.

Was any part you enough to keep him?

Was this body?

Was it enough to have him wait for you?

Looking down at yourself, you press your fingers against your stomach, pulling at the flesh and skin as though it would change anything.

Were you enough?

Shaking the thought out of your mind, you reach for your towel as you open the shower curtain and step out into the steamy bathroom. Flipping on the fan switch, you dry yourself off, avoiding the reflection in the mirror. You lotion your body down, before pulling on your bra and underwear. Ignoring the drips from your hair, you tug on a loose T-shirt and shorts, and shake out your head, water falling everywhere as though you were a wet dog.

Sighing, you turn to the mirror, where fog from the shower is fading, water droplets trailing down like rain and making pathways. You follow them with your eyes for a moment before, in a sudden urge, you swipe your hand across the screen, destroying their peaceful journey. What's left of your reflection.

Staring into your eyes, you can see just how tired you look. Just how worn down you are. Touching just below your eye, the dark circles under your eyes from restless nights of tears and loss of sleep stand out like a stain on your skin.

What has he done to you?

This isn't you, this isn't who you are.

What has he turned you into?

Sighing, you turn away from the mirror and pull on your robe.

Drying your hair off with your towel, you pull open the door and walk outside, your wet feet slapping on the crisp wood floor as you make your way into the living room.

You look around for any sign of Jae or Miji, but they are nowhere to be seen. Glancing over at the kitchen island, you spot a small piece of paper. Taking it into your fingers, you read the neat block letters of Jaejin's handwriting. His Korean alphabet is so structured, so neat and so straight as though it were the writing of a computer. It reads:

“Hey, I’m sorry we left, but Mijeong prepared a surprise birthday dinner for me tonight, we’ll be back later so help yourself to make dinner or whatever. Remember this is your home now too, I love you!!”

You smile at the thoughtful letter and pocket it in your robe.

You had prepared a gift for Jae today yourself, but you'd reckon you'd just give it to him later.

Turning to the room you take a deep breath before beginning to explore.

The living room is very spacious, which you prefer. The TV is elevated on the left wall from the kitchen, the couch positioned against the right wall across from the screen. In the middle of the room, there is a cute small glass coffee table with forgotten magazines and books laying on top of it. Underneath the TV there are many different bookshelves with movies, books, and magazines shelved on them. All around the apartment, there are potted plants, cute decorations, and some photographs.

Stepping onto the carpet, you dig your feet into it as though it were the warm sand on the beach.

"I would have been fine sleeping on this floor, you know. This is like heaven." You murmur to yourself, closing your eyes in content. You wait there for a moment before the soft plinks of rain begin outside, knocking you out of your stupor.

Opening your eyes, you turn to the balcony's clear screen door and press your hand against it. Gazing outside, you smile at the sight of rain against the lights of the city. Opening the door a crack, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

After a moment, you step back inside and shut the screen door, turning to the kitchen. You pull out a pot and fill it with water before setting it on the ceramic stove and heating it. As you wait for it to boil, you pull out your phone and turn the notifications off from vibration. As soon as you do, you click on your Instagram and into the group chat you share with your friends.

Looking through, you can't help but feel a bit conflicted.

Biting your lip, your finger hovers over the message box before you quickly pull away and place your phone on the counter. Letting out a shaky breath, you swallow the lump rising dangerously in your throat before looking away.

You're sensitive today.

You knew it was going to be like this.

When you moved in the middle of high school back home, it was the same. Their lives carried on without you. They still had fun, they still had other things to do, they still had a life outside of you. Outside of you being there.

Things were different.

They were still your friends, they'll always be your friends, but they weren't the same.

Will they ever be the same?

When you hear the crackling of the boiling water, your head snaps up and you pocket the phone once more. You pull the pot off the stove and grab a mug out of one of the many cabinets in Jae's kitchen. As you set it beside the cooling water on the counter, you search his pantry for a cocoa mix. Normally you would have tea, but right after the sight of the rain, you're in the mood for something to warm you from the inside out.

Something to remind you of home.

On cold, rainy days after you and your friends would practice at the dance studio, or finish having a meal together or anything simple like that; you would hurry home and with your group, you would make them cocoa. You would start a fire and would sit with each other spending the time together, happy and complete.

The nostalgia and sadness growing too much, you are relieved when you find the hot cocoa packets. You let out a little shout of happiness and accomplishment before walking out of the pantry and dumping the contents into the cup. Setting the packet aside, you take the pot of water and carefully pour it into the cup as well. While the powder and water slowly swirl together, you rummage for a spoon before mixing it. Once you're satisfied, you sip it carefully and...

...almost burn your tongue off.

Coughing violently, you set it down and focus on putting away everything you brought out, giving it time to cool off. Once everything is done and put away, you pick up your mug, holding it to your face as you softly blow on it. Even now the smell and the warmth of it is getting rid of the chill you feel whenever you're alone.

Settling yourself amongst the blankets and pillows on the couch, you take the TV remote off of the coffee table and turn on the TV. Netflix pops up and you search for a K- drama you were watching before you left. When you find it, you press play, leaving off captions so that you can practice your Korean a bit more.

As the intro starts, you hum along to it, setting up a sort of bed so you can watch comfortably. Once it's done, you lay down, your head sinking into a pillow comfortably, and a soft gray blanket pulled over your body. You're in a position so that you can still lounge but won't spill your cocoa.

As the show begins, you mouth the words along with them. When you can't catch what they say, you're quick to rewind it and try it again until you understand. You laugh with the show, cry with it, finding yourself on an emotional roller coaster.

You've always been like this, too emotional, too easily attached, too naive. Always careful to keep yourself at a reasonable distance from anyone who could hurt you. From anyone who you couldn't handle if they left you. It takes a while for you to open yourself up to someone, and when you do, you're wholly and completely theirs.

It's a lose-lose situation.

A lose-lose way of life.

Before you know it, the cocoa is gone and the episode is almost over. Setting the mug on the coffee table, you settle back into the pillow. As you watch, your eyes grow heavy, and you drift further and further away. The last thing you see before you close them is their touching kiss before they flutter shut and you fall into a restless sleep.

Hours pass as you lie there on the couch, sleeping. The show continues to play until the question "are you still watching?" shows up on the screen as it often does when you've been watching for a while without much activity.

Once the show is off, the apartment goes silent and it seems almost empty. In the far background, there are the sounds of cars honking, the screech of tires on the pavement, even the sound of music from the billboards and clubs.

This is like home, these sounds are familiar. These are the reasons why you sleep so soundly, hugging the pillow as though it were your lifeline.

You do not wake when Mijeong and Jaejin enter the apartment. They are laughing, but as soon as they see you on the couch, fast asleep, they fall quiet, each one of them smiling softly.

They hold unimaginable compassion for you and deep love.

Mijeong immediately sets down her stuff, sliding out of her shoes and walking towards you. Tenderly, she brushes back your hair as though she were your mother taking care of you.

“She’s sound asleep.” She whispers, just as Jaejin joins her side.

“That’s not like her. She’s such a light sleeper, she would have woken up when we came home.” He replies worry reflected in his eyes. Mijeong’s smile, at his statement, fades away and she nods.

“She must be in so much pain that she wants to drown out the world around her,” Mijeong says sadly before standing up and clearing her throat.

“Let's take her to her room.” When Jaejin doesn't move, she gives him an expectant look and he jolts to attention. She hits him softly on his arm and he lets out a slight joking yelp.

"I was going to do it, I just wasn't ready yet." He whines, and she chuckles before leading the way to your room as Jaejin picks you up with strong, sure arms. Cradled in his arms as though you were a baby, he looks down at you with a tender look. He hates that he can't help you.

No one can.

He smiles how sound asleep you are now, cradled in his arms, your head resting against the crook of his neck. Mijeong, watching the encounter, smiles as well. He notices her look and his attention changes immediately from you to her in a second.

“What is it?” he asks, and she shakes her head, opening the door to your newly acclaimed bedroom.

“Nothing.” She says but a sly smile is playing at her lips, as though she’s concealing a secret. Which she is. A secret that, at that moment, she thought he would make a great father. A secret that at that moment, she wanted things with him that were far off in the future, but very real to her now.

As they walk into your room, Mijeong pulls back the covers, and Jaejin sets you down softly on the bed. Once you are out of his arms, and Mijeong pulls the covers up over your body, you settle instinctively into the soft mattress, and immediately curl up into a ball, holding tightly to one of the many pillows on your bed. They smile as they watch over you, and Jaejin presses a soft kiss on your forehead. Mijeong does the same, brushing back strands of hair on your forehead. Turning around, they share a tender look before walking out of the room and cracking the door shut behind them.

“Are you sure that she’ll be okay?” Mijeong asks as soon as the door is shut. Jaejin looks at her a bit surprised.

“Of course. Why, are you having second thoughts?” he asks before heading into the living room, Mijeong not far behind.

"No. I'm not, I just....I wish we could tell her before we do anything. She's going to wake up and we'll be gone." Mijeong explains, following him and settling on the counter. Jaejin pauses from setting the living room in order and turns to her. He takes her hand in his own and kisses her softly on the forehead before pressing his forehead to hers tenderly.

"I love you, and I wish we could have told her before we leave tomorrow, but she will be okay. She'll have the apartment, and my job at Big Hit to take over. Everything will be okay." He reassures her. Mijeong hesitates before nodding her head in agreement. Jaejin smiles, before pulling away and turning off the TV. "Besides, I'll leave her a note just like we did tonight before we take off in the morning. This is just too much of an amazing opportunity for you and for me to waste."

"I know." Mijeong answers, rocking on the counter as she swings her legs back and forth. "Not every model gets a chance to appear at Fashion Week, but Jae....she'll be all alone."

Done with ordering the room, he chuckles as he begins to make his way back to her.

"She is a grown-up you know. It’s only a few months, she can take care of herself." He says, pulling her off the counter and spinning around in the air before setting her down as she giggles and leans on him, a little dizzy.

"Don't worry," he reassures her once more before heading into their room, his voice fading as he closes the door behind him.

"Yen will be okay. She always is."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: thanks to everyone who read! so why do you think miss Yen moved to Korea?

I'm going to be updating my mutuals list (because I never had it to begin with ;-;) on my navigation so if you want to be added, pls ask me ^^ thankssss

chapter 4 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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lizbotw · 3 years

Text

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

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thechekhov · 4 years

Note

Would you say you’re good at math? And I don’t want to ask such a vague question so let’s say the standards for how “good” you are at math depends on your age. Or the culture around you. Dependent on the people around you, would you say you can do math well? Or at least can grasp the concepts well? Because, in my opinion, how intelligent you are is based on how quickly you understand something and not how much you know.

I would say... I find this question a bit misguided.

First of all, I you mention that you want to find out how quickly one picks up a concept has some link to their intelligence. And you may very well find proof for this theory, sure! But since you asked me I wanna say - I’m not convinced that it is as simple as you’re making it out to be, nor am I sure how math is a good vector for this discussion.

I personally believe in the theory that intellect is

Not a static thing - changes depending on your experience, how old you are, how tired you are, how stressed you are, etc.

Not measurable across several different ‘types’ - there is social intelligence, spatial intelligence, numerical intelligence, tactile intelligence, etc.

Not capable of being standardized enough to be useful as a tool for judging other people with.

We’ve all heard about judging a fish by asking it to climb a tree, but I concede...

Anyway, let’s take us back to your math question.

Am I good at math?

Well, for one thing, I appreciate that you took cultural context and age into account. So you’re judging me, presumably, against my peers who have been, again, presumably, exposed to the same amount of standardized math education. So far so good.

I was terrible at math in elementary school in Russia. I got very bad marks because my handwriting was atrocious and I didn’t get fractions. Then I went to America, and suddenly math was easy for some reason. I had, in fact, missed a year of math due to my immigration to the US, but then was put into a slightly higher-level class in Middle School. I was semi-comfortable in math in high school and often helped out others in Trig and Pre-Calc, but lost track of concepts after that and haven’t taken a single math course since.

Here’s where our yardstick of ‘how quickly you understand something’ falls away into a stretch of silly-putty.

I have spent close to a decade without having taken a single math course.

So - am I good at math? Right now?

No. I’m terrible.

Was I good at math before?

Sure, at one point.

When I had a good teacher. When I enjoyed going to school. When I had a relatively peaceful home life and didn’t have other things to stress about. When I had access to other people who were good at math who could help me out.

So the real question isn’t really about how well I pick up concepts. It’s also about my environment, about my mental capacity for picking up new information, about whether or not I had the emotional stability to focus extra energy on math vs., eh, I dunno, fending off my homophobic parents.

(For example, I was an ok student until grade 10, when my mother began to suspect I was gay and my home life tanked and my grades tanked with it).

So you ask - am I good at math?

The real answer is: I have no fucking clue.

Being ‘good’ at a subject is so subjective. You have SO many things to consider beyond just cultural context and age and available education opportunities. You also have to consider how much energy a person is willing to expand on thinking about that thing. About how much they decide to care about it. Because yeah, when I was relatively comfortably closeted, I fuckin LOVED thinkin’ about Trig. I could allot my braincells to it. But after I had other priorities in my life like ‘don’t let mom find you using the wrong pronouns’ and etc, you bet your ass my Shits-To-Give about Pre-Calc flattened to Z E R O and absolutely no one could convince me looking at some Funky Numbers was gonna be worth my time.

The real issue with asking people these questions is that you are trying to judge a person by how good they are at something - but that’s not something that is static, nor something that you can ever see in full. The effort it takes someone to be good at something is always invisible to onlookers. Someone could be really good at a thing and expand no energy on it. Someone could also be really good at something but spend all their time practicing to be good at that thing.

And in the end, the important thing is - DOES IT MATTER?

How ‘intelligent’ someone is doesn’t define their worth. Whether or not to interact with them. How ‘good’ a person they are. I’ve met people who were, by all definitions, Dumb because they didn’t succeed in the arbitrary education system, or because they didn’t test well, or didn’t do well under pressure when asked rapid questions. But they were incredibly caring and had a social intellect WAY beyond my own and were much more successful.

I’ve also met plenty of ‘smart’ people who thought that the fact that they were living cushy lives and were free to binge-read wikipedia articles instead of working part-time jobs to support their family at age 15 meant that they were somehow ‘more intelligent’ than some poor, exhausted kid who was using their energy to survive instead of memorizing random formulas.

And I get that you’re trying to level the playing field, I really do - but no matter how much you struggle to compare me to other people who are like me, or to other people still, our experience of learning math will nonetheless be different for such a variety of reasons that in the end, whatever answer you get will be absolutely pointlessly empty.

... I realize that this also sounds very lecture-y but this is something that’s very close to my heart because SO many people think themselves ‘dumb’ for not understanding things ‘quickly enough’, for taking time to grasp something despite being dead tired, for needing someone else to explain it to them in different words... for not succeeding in a system that only really measures one thing - one VERY narrow ability - The ability to Learn Information By Listening To a Lecture And Looking At A Blackboard For 45 Minutes Every Day, 5 Days A Week While Ignoring Other Real-Life Pressures You May Or May Not Be Facing.

And some of us may be really good at that.

But please, let’s not pretend that that somehow makes us smarter.

...

In my opinion, the real measure of intellect is how much you WANT to learn new things, even when you don’t necessarily NEED to.

It’s not about success, and it’s not about crossing the finish line first.

It’s about inquiry, and it’s about reaching for something new every time you get the chance.

#chekhov answers #chekhov rambles #sorry #i went off on one #again

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sockablock · 4 years

Text

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.��

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...?#critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

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behindheremeraldeyes · 3 years

Text

sasusaku month 2021

day 1- glances

title: I see you

summary: high school AU— they’re in the middle of biology class when Uchiha Sasuke realizes that there are way more interesting things that deserve his full attention. [Ao3] [ffnet]

He’s doing it again.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see as she eagerly writes down her notes on her biology book. She uses her small fingers to tug a stubborn strand of her pink hair that has been falling forward since first period, and he watches as the sunlight highlights her soft skin. An absent smile graces her lips, and he supposes it’s because she’s enjoying whatever it is that their teacher is saying. He hasn’t been paying attention to the class for a while now, his concentration completely switched to the girl sitting next to him. Last time he checked, though, they were discussing genetics. Or could it be fungus? He doesn’t know.

Lately, he’s been doing that a lot— the whole staring thing, that is. Though unaware, at first, now he knows exactly when his attention drifts towards her. It happens when he’s at ease or when anxiety is starting to grow inside him. When he’s calm and relaxed; or when he finds himself in need of a familiar face not to blow it all away.

Sakura has this effect on him. Even without really saying or doing anything, her sole presence is enough to warm his chest. It’s as natural as the clouds floating in the sky, and sometimes, when they’re not in the same room, he finds himself missing her figure. With her green eyes and pink hair, she has become a constant presence in his life, and if anything, Sasuke likes constant. Always has.

He also likes her, but that’s not been questioned right now.

He’s acknowledged his feelings for her for almost three months now, and he figures he’s still trying to get used to the idea of seeing her as more than just his best friend. It’s not that their relationship has changed that much from what it was before, but everything around her just feels different ever since Naruto pointed out the obvious. Sasuke has accepted this new side of him, and perhaps, the biggest change in his young life is the fact that he has to constantly remind himself that he no longer needs silly excuses to hide his feelings for her. He has to keep telling himself that it’s not an absurd for a boy like him to consider making a move in a girl like her. He can dare to reach out for her hand or— if he’s feeling bold enough, and the situation calls for it— kiss her lips.

It’s weird to even think about doing that to the girl who has been by his side since they were in dippers. She‘s still the same Sakura, but now that he has allowed himself to picture them together, she’s just different. He’s different, too, and he can’t really say he hates it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

And right now, while he’s still trapped in his thoughts, he also has to remind himself that staring at her is not as creepy as it would be if he was just a stranger.

It isn’t, right?

Perhaps he should stop, then. Or maybe—

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted as a folded piece of white paper shows up on his desk. He quirks his right brow in confusion, and without thinking twice, his eyes drift to Naruto because— well— who else would’ve thrown that at him in the middle of the class, right? However, much to his surprise, his blonde best friend couldn’t have done such a thing, no. He’s fast asleep on his desk across the classroom, and the Uchiha is almost sure he can see drool sliding down his open mouth.

That loser, he thinks. If he’s not going to pay attention to the class, he might as well try to pretend otherwise in order to avoid a future lecture. Maybe he really deserves it, after all.

Still, if the idiot didn’t throw the folded paper, then who did it?

He arcs his brows again, and before trying to reach another conclusion based solely on his speculations, Sasuke decides to read the hidden note. Carefully, then, he unfolds the paper, only to be surprised by the familiar and delicate handwriting in it.

“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the class?”

A smirk crosses his lips as he reads those words, and he knows he’s been busted. Dark eyes, then, turn to his right only to find green ones already staring back at him. She offers him a teasing smile, using her index finger to point towards the blackboard, to which he simply shrugs. Apparently, Sakura has caught him staring for a little too long, and if he were to be honest, he’s glad she did because now he has an excuse to silently flirt with her.

Now, he has an excuse to observe and to be observed by her emerald eyes.

If he had to pick, that’s probably one of his favorite activities of the day now that he has decided to build up some courage to make a move. He likes to tease her without using words just to see all of her unique reactions flourishing. He likes to see the many shades of red that tinge her cheeks whenever she’s embarrassed and the way she sometimes has to cover her mouth to suppress a loud laugh. He likes when she bites her lower lip whenever she’s thinking about something, and he sure as hell loves it when he sees one of her soft smiles slowly making its way up to her bright eyes.

She really is the cutest girl he knows. Not that he will ever admit that to her.

Without thinking twice then, he grabs his black pen and rips a piece of paper from his notebook. He scribbles around, folds it and expertly throws it so their secret lands on her desk. She spares him a knowing look before unfolding it, and he watches as she silently grows embarrassed at his written words. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and the pout that takes over her lips is enough to tell him his silly message worked. It was just a regular compliment, but he knows she’s never been good with those ever since he called her annoying on second grade.

One would say he’s to be blamed for her complex, but he likes to think he has only helped her develop one of her unique traits.

Sakura shakes her pink head, then, and he watches as she rips another piece of paper so they can continue their sneaky conversation. They certainly look like children right now, especially since they both know they can just pick their phones from their pockets and text each other. It would be easier, sure, but not half as fun.

“Very charming. Still, you’ll need more than, that if you want my notes!” is her answer, with an exclamation mark written with a big dot on the bottom, and he pretends to be taken aback by those words. She’s still blushing, he can tell, and he feels oddly proud for that. Maybe he shouldn’t, though, because he knows she dreams of becoming a great doctor someday and she just loves biology so so much that, perhaps, he should really just leave her to her studies.

But it’s stronger than him. Having her reactions and her attention all to himself makes him selfish, and even if he hates to act differently than what he’s used to, he doesn’t complain one bit when he does that for her.

It’s all for her. All because of her.

He’s but a teenager living his first love, and that alone should give him the right to enjoy this fleeting phase next to her. People say it’s the best moment of life, and even if he doesn’t know wether it’s true or not, he’s ready to, at least, try to make the best of it.

So, yes, Sasuke is going to keep sending her notes during her favorite class if they make her smile. He’s going to keep choosing the right words to make her blush and he’s going to keep stealing glances, hoping to be caught, until the day comes when he doesn’t really have to steal anymore.

fin

——-—

a/n: okay, first of all, HAPPY SASUSAKU MONTH, y’all! Here’s to another wonderful month filled with love and sasusaku! Let’s all have fun and celebrate our beloved ship! Now, to the story... honestly, I hate it so much. I think this is one of the worst things I’ve ever written, but at least, it’s over now. Nothing came to me when working with this theme and I really just wanted to move on with this already. I thought about writing something about Sasuke making amends with his newfound love for Sakura in a high school setting, but it’s just meh. Sorry for that. It’ll get better, I promise XD Still, hope you have fun!

#sasusaku #sasusaku month 2021 #Sasusaku month #ssmonth21 #ss month #myssfics

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moondustis · 4 years

Text

one more time (m)

pairing: jung jaehyun + reader genre: smut, angst, fluff / friends to lovers | wc: 9,4k summary: Maybe this right here is a story about growing up and finding yourself, or about finding love and being vulnerable. But it definitely is a story about friendship, skating, pancakes and Jung Jaehyun learning how to deal with his feelings. song rec: and july - heize ft. dean / i think - tyler the creator / thinking about you - frank ocean

Jung Jaehyun is born on February 14 of 1997, valentine’s day. He is a cute and healthy baby, as he should be and cries from being outside the comfort of his mother’s belly for the first time.

He grows up well, loved and cherished by the ones around him and filling his mother’s heart with joy and pride. He’s a happy child, then a smart teenager, just a little shy but still outgoing enough to be surrounded by friends all the time.

He meets Seo Johnny at school and learns a lot of things from him, but most importantly he learns how to skate. And Johnny is a good friend, a good example as his mother says, because even if sometimes they skip school, he teaches Jaehyun that crying after he falls a bit too hard from a trick doesn’t make him less of a man. And Jaehyun embraces that, thinks that he always had too many feelings inside of him to begin with and he deals with all of them.

And he’s okay, for the most part but somewhere along the way something shifts and it’s not as easy anymore. It’s not as easy as falling down on the hard concrete of his sidewalk and getting up again because college had a way of changing people, and it does a good job on him. He shuts down a good part of himself to other people, stays in his closed circle of friendships and leads his life like that, hoping that he can finally graduate and do something he actually enjoys, but at the same time dreading that day, because he wasn't sure if he was ready for the pressure of having to know exactly where to go in life.

Maybe this right here is a story about growing up and finding yourself, or about finding love and being vulnerable. But it definitely is a story about friendship, skating, pancakes and Jung Jaehyun learning how to deal with his feelings.

✿

Jung Jaehyun is a fuckboy.

Ok, not literally, but he fits the stereotype suspiciously well. For starters he’s one of the guys that like to skate around campus, and dresses like someone that probably listens to Mac Miller or Tyler, the Creator, with his vans and oversized t-shirts. To make matters worse he looks like a model, walking around with his perfect face and perfect body, making literally every girl in the class you share together swoon every time he walks into the room. And honestly that’s all you have against him, because he doesn’t actually sleep around all that much and breaks girls hearts. Not that you have heard of at least and it was a relatively small campus.

But see, Jaehyun is a confusing person, because even if he goes around the campus screaming as his friends do flips or whatever they’re called and sometimes wears t-shirts that say things like ‘fuck cops’, he’s also incredibly quiet and kinda shy from the interactions you had seen him have with your classmates. And on top of all that, he’s majoring in education to become an elementary teacher, like that isn’t the most adorable career in the world.

So yeah, he confuses you. Even more when your first interaction ever with him goes like this:

You’re in the middle of Psychology 101, the coffee in your system being the only thing keeping your two eyes wide open as the teacher goes on with the lecture. You are not sure if you are really paying attention or just writing down whatever he says, because underneath all that coffee you’re actually very tired from staying up late writing an assignment, and soon the caffeine boost will go away, leaving you with the weird feeling of exhaustion.

The ‘pssts’ start low. So low that you don’t even notice, but when a very insistent one is accompanied by a finger poking your back, you have to turn around to see what is going on, being met with Jung Jaehyun, cheeks pink, looking at you with a bashful look.

“Hi.” Is all he says and nothing else, in a rushed whisper as the teacher continues on with the talking.

You blink slowly because the coffee doesn't actually make you think faster, before you’re whispering back “Uh, hi.”

“Sorry for interrupting you.” That’s very considerate of him to say, your mind provides. “But I skipped the last class and was wondering if you took notes of it? So I can, like, copy them. Please.”

He adds the last word quickly, as if he’s afraid you’ll think of him as rude otherwise. You haven’t done that much thinking about Jaehyun in the past, just the here and there thoughts, but none of them had been about him being anything but nice. And a fuckboy, but that’s beside the point.

“Oh.” You just look at him for a second before you’re snapping out of it, shaking your head as you turn to your notebook. “Sorry. You can, sure.” You flip your notes until you’re on the page you had messily written down the notes for last class, overreacting for a second that he would think you are stupid because of your terrible handwriting. But all he does is take your notebook when you offer it to him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he’s handing it to you again.

He thanks you with a smile that’s almost not there but that still makes your heart flutter involuntary. You had a thing for cute boys what could you do? So you smile back and it stays like that for another second until he decides to break the awkwardness.

“Uhm, are you going to Taeil’s party this weekend?” Multiple questions fill your mind at that. Who’s Taeil? What party? Why the fuck was he asking you that? Are you hallucinating this from your lack of sleep?

“I’ll probably drop by to see how it is.” Is the lie you reply with, a shrug helping you play the unbothered act too well. It’s a little pathetic if you think about, but that’s the thing, you’re not thinking at all.

“Oh, cool. I’ll see you there, then.” And that’s it, that’s the entire interaction and it leaves you confused for the remaining of the lecture, wondering if that actually did really happen because it sure felt a bit unreal.

When you get to your dorm room after your class, the coffee high is completely gone and you feel ready to plop down on your bed and sleep for 5 hours until you have to be up again to finish assignments. But before you can do that. you see your roommate, Jungwoo, eating cereal on the kitchen counter and you can’t help but ask.

“Do you know a Taeil?” Again, it was a small campus so there were probably not many Taeils around. That and Jungwoo actually knew a lot of people, from his connections, as he liked to say.

He thinks about it for a second, over a spoonful of cereal before he’s saying “Moon Taeil? Yeah he's in my class.” You can’t even be bothered by him speaking with his mouth full and the fact that you’re absolutely not sure if that’s the Taeil you’re looking for.

“Nice. Do you wanna go to his party this weekend?” A bold invitation that makes Jungwoo raise one eyebrow at you.

“What? Why do you wanna do that?” In all honesty you don’t know either, probably something about a really attractive man and your very out of usual interaction with him, but you won’t tell him that because facing Jungwoo’s teasing was exhausting.

You shrug. “Just because.”

That makes him squint his eyes at you. “Okay…. It's just that you don't go to parties.” In your defense, you do. You just hadn’t been to one since your freshman year, a whole one year and a half ago.

“Jungwoo it’s a simple question.” You huff in annoyance because you’re tired and every moment that you spend in his presence is another step closer to just spilling everything about your short and weird interaction with Jung Jaehyun. “Do you want to or not?”

“Yes.” He replies quickly, still giving you a weird look. “I can't miss the opportunity of seeing you drunk again.

“I'm not getting drunk.” You simply say before you’re walking to your room.

✿

You get very drunk, smashed even, from something pink and slightly citrusy that you and Jungwoo had downed shot after shot of. The party was, well, a party. It wasn’t full but there was definitely more people than there should be at a house this small, and the songs playing weren’t exactly that bad, you even recognized one or two.

And Jungwoo was as splattered as you, but he still offered to fetch you some water, with a promise of staying glued to the wall coming from you. And that’s where Jung Jaehyun finds you, barely standing still from how drunk you are.

“___!” He says happily, catching you off guard and you wonder how he knew your name. But again you knew his and you shared a class together.

He looks good, is the first thing you notice, with a snapback and a t-shirt that has a small bear on it and is too big for him. “Jaehyun!” You reply in the same fashion as he said your name and it makes him smile, a different one from the last time.

“It’s nice seeing you here.” He says, moving to stand next to you on the wall and you’re just slightly overwhelmed by how good he smells. The world around you spins for a moment and you giggle for no reason. “Are you having a good time?”

“Ugh!” First of all, a disclaimer. Drunk you was absolutely and completely stupid, a fool that liked to say nonsense and that’s why you say the next words. “Do we really have to do small talk right now?”

He laughs at your childish whine, looking at you with eyes filled with amusement and appearing just a little drunk. Definitely less drunk than you. “What should we talk about, then?”

Maybe he’s a bigger fool than you are for even entertaining your silliness. “I don’t know.” You look at him through hooded eyes, probably pouting from trying to think of something to say to a guy you just talked for the first time a week ago. “Don’t you miss, like, when we were kids and could just talk about whatever? Like what’s your favorite color, you know? Why did we stop doing that?”

In the back of your head, the sound of clown music starts playing. He on the other hand seems amazed by your blabbering. “Favorite colors?” His voice is just about teasing and you groan in slightly embarrassment.

“You know what? Forget it. Shhhhh.” You drunkenly press one finger to his lips as if to emphasize your shushing. His lips twitch in the want to smile. “Let’s just do something else.”

You don’t realize that your words sound suggesting but he does, raising one eyebrow and smiling at you. “Hmm, like what?”

He moves closer to you but before you have the time to react, Jungwoo is coming back, water bottle on his hand and a look on his face that says he thinks you’re up to no good. He eyes you up and down before looking at Jaehyun and doing the same. He looks slightly more sobered up, but still tipsy.

“Jungwoo!” You exclaim, holding your hands out for the water bottle.

He looks between you and Jaehyun before saying “Hello. Who are you?” It would have sounded slightly rude if it weren't for the cute tone he uses.

You’re quick to say “This is Jaehyun, he’s-“

“I’m her friend.” He says it naturally and you wonder when you had gained that title, the giggle you let out against your own will, too drunk for you own good.

Jungwoo says something to him that you don’t quite catch but then he’s dragging you away with a whine coming from your lips as you wave a sad goodbye to Jaehyun from behind your shoulder and he does the same with an amused smile.

“I leave you one minute alone and you try to act a fool in front of a man that good looking.” He whispers as you walk away and all you can do in return is laugh out loud. You would probably not even remember any of this tomorrow, anyway.

✿

You remember everything, of course. And Jaehyun starts saying hi to you every time he sees you around campus after that, always with a smile and his dimples showing up, making you blush in a silly way. But it’s only after two weeks that you finally talk with him again.

You had met Taeyong on your freshman year and after finding out he was really similar to you, you had become friends quickly. He was someone that everyone immediately felt comfortable around, that’s why it was no surprise when you find out at his birthday party that he’s friends with Jaehyun too.

When you arrive at the party, Jungwoo by your side, there’s not many faces that you don’t know and after you hug Taeyong with a kiss to his cheek, you spot him standing by the kitchen counter. There’s a beer in his hand and he’s wearing all black, a sight that you don’t mind looking at.

He doesn’t notice you at first, his focus on a taller guy talking to him, but when he does he greets you with a wide smile that is enough to turn your legs into jelly by itself, but then he’s making his way towards you. Your heart starts beating a tiny bit faster, your hand moving to fix your hair in habit.

“Hello.” He greets and Jungwoo decides that’s a good time to leave you side and go talk to his other friends, not even sparing you an explanation. He knew what he was doing. “Didn’t know you were friends with Taeyong.”

You smile like a silly girl. “Yup, he’s like my soulmate.”

His smile grows wider at that, a pair of dimples making their way to his face and you almost groan because there’s no way he could get any more charming than this. “That's how I know you are a good person.” He jokes and you let out a snort, giving him a funny look.

“Our first interaction was me letting you borrowing my notes, that should've been enough.” You point out in a teasing manner, not really meaning the words.

“You’re right.” The ghost of a smile graces his lips as he defends himself, the faint sight of a blush gracing his cheeks as he avoids your eyes.

He offers to get you a beer after that, leading you to the kitchen with a hand on your back that feels weirdly nice. You were never one to get stupid crushes but that’s exactly how you feel around him, like at any moment you will say or do anything really dumb because of your infatuation. You wonder if it’s because of his looks or the way he seems a little shy around you.

“By the way, you never told me your favorite color that night.” He says, eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers you the beer, which you gladly take after immediately letting out a groan.

“Ugh, shut up. Don’t remind me of that.” You are sure your entire face is red from embarrassment at just the thought of the things you had said that night. It wasn’t even that bad, Jungwoo had said, but you like to overreact, so you cover your face with your free hand.

“Why? It was cute.” His voice is filled with amusement and when you peak from under your hand you can see his face is as well. “I like how funny you are.”

The words only make your face get hotter as you smile awkwardly. You were far from funny, your friends liked to remind you of that fact. But how could you be when you had friends like Jungwoo that absolutely made everyone in a room laugh without even trying. But still, his words make you feel a little proud, that at least you were able to make a pretty guy think that.

“I don't have a favorite color, it always changes.” You say suddenly, going back to the previous subject to avoid making the conversation about you. Even if you had to talk about something like favorite colors. “I like when the sky turns pink during sunset, I guess you could say it’s that one right now. ”

He hums, taking a sip of his beer before saying “It's a good one.”

You huff, he was really trying hard for a conversation about such a stupid matter. Still, you continue to entertain it. “What's yours?”

He pursues his lips, think about it for a second. “I don't know… I like black.”

“Obviously.” You deadpan and it makes him laugh like you actually said something funny.

Jaehyun stays by your side for the rest of the night, trying his best not to make small talk and it surprises you how easy he is to talk to. He asks you about your favorite everything, from animals to movies and it’s really nice to find out you two have more in common than you would ever imagine. By the end of the party you are glued to his side on a probably too crowded couch, his close proximity making you warm all over and only bothering the butterflies on your stomach more.

It’s when he lets out a loud laugh at something Jungwoo and Yukhei are going back and forth about, hiding his face on your shoulder as his whole body shakes with laughter, that you know for a fact you’re fucked. Completely fucked.

✿

Jaehyun and you become friends very fast after Taeyong’s birthday. It’s almost weird, because both of you seem to be just a little too shy for you own good, but things just happen naturally when you are with him.

It starts with silly jokes passed around in notes on your shared lecture, with your face turning red from how hard you try not to laugh out loud and sharing your favorite songs with each other. Then it becomes grabbing a coffee after class, and sharing something sweet because you both deserve it after enduring such a boring lecture. It all leads to what it is now, two months later and your days are filled with Jaehyun’s comfortable presence, his laugh and late nights texts about any subject that comes to mind and sharing your biggest dreams and some of your fears with him.

It scares you at the same time it makes you extremely happy, because you had never been someone who had many friends, letting people in and connecting was hard, so you decided very early that navigating life with a few close friends was enough. But Jaehyun makes it all seem very easy and it’s suddenly like you can’t imagine your life without him anymore.

That brings you to where you are right now. You have both had a long week and decided that it would be nice to have a movie night, and after you had ate the chinese takeout you ordered, you settle on on his couch as romantic comedy movie plays. You’re both comfortable, his eyes stayed glued on the screen, laughing as a character makes a joke about oral sex. Maybe that’s why you ask your next question out of nowhere. Or maybe you’re just stupid. Probably the last one.

“Have you… Have you ever gone down on a girl?” The words are stammered out as you look down your lap, cheeks going pink. You immediately regret asking because you can feel his eyes on you as he searches for a response.

“Wha -- Where did that come from?” It’s even more unsettling that you can’t pinpoint exactly what he’s thinking. Sometimes Jaehyun was hard to read, and that bothered you.

The small laugh that leaves your lips is fake. “It's a silly question, right? Sorry, I wasn't thinking.”You continue avoiding his eyes, picking at the nail polish that was already chipping on your fingers.

“Its okay.” He’s quick to say, always making sure you’re not unsure of yourself. “And, yeah. I mean, I have, of course.”

He says as if it’s obvious. As if it’s something that he absolutely needed to do and all you can say back is “Oh.”

“Why?” It’s a good question, really. Because you have no idea where you are trying to go with this conversation, but now it got him to pause the movie and to look at you with expectation on his eyes. So you can’t do anything but continue.

“I don't know…” You gulp down, slightly shaking at what you’re about to say. “I have never — No one has ever done that to me.”

“Never?” He sounds surprised, annoyed even, but you wouldn’t know what he looks like because you continue to avoid his face, playing with the hem of you skirt instead now.

There was no reason that you two should be having this conversation, because you were friends and nothing else. But again, friends talked about this all the time. Friends could talk about sex right? Friends could share experiences and joke about it without getting awkward or making a complete big deal out of something so normal.

Jaehyun lets out a deep breath and then it’s silence for a second. You feel small and embarrassed, because deep down you know that you didn’t say this just as a normal friendly comment. It’s like somehow, you knew exactly that he would say what he does. Or better yet, proposition it.

“I could…” His words are tentative, almost a whisper as if he wants to put the two of you in a bubble that no one can break in. “I could show you.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him “What? You — What?”

And Jaehyun is so gentle, as he slides over the couch to be next to you, and give you the comfort you need, and as he cradles your cheeks with his hands. “W-We don’t have to.” He assures, but something on his voice that says he really wants to. “But I'll take care of you. If you let me.”

He’s too much, you think as you stare at his face with glossy eyes. There’s a line that’s been placed on your friendship, a very fine line between what it is now and what it could become. Right now that line is wavering, even more when all you can do is nod your head slowly, giving him all the agreement he needs to press his lips against yours.

It’s a sweet kiss, his lips molding to yours and you can’t help but sigh. It feels right, even if it maybe isn’t. He kisses you with the delicacy of someone who knows this could ruin something good, but at the same time with the determination of someone who wants this too much to care.

He tilts his head, deepening it as he sucks on your bottom lip before he’s swirling his tongue on it, asking for entrance that you so gladly gives. And you’re not completely inexperienced, you had done this before and knows, how it feels to have someone on top of you, how it feels to have someone try to make you feel good, but when his tongue slides against yours you can feel your head spin and the arousal on the pit of your stomach only grows.

It’s with slow and calculated moves that he gets you to lay on the couch, with him pressing kisses all over your neck and wherever he can. You watch with your heart beating too fast as he moves down, lifting your shirt a bit past your navel so he can kiss there too, and then he’s slipping your skirt off.

It makes you antsy being in only your panties in front of him, even more when it’s just a simple cotton and pink material, but he pays it no mind. Instead he continues to press kisses all over your thighs, holding them apart when you try to close them and you shiver in anticipation.

“Are you nervous?” He asks, with fingers hooked on each side of your underwear, about to pull them down.

You huff because isn’t it obvious? You’re about to have someone eat you out for the first time. Your friend out of all people. “Y-yes.”

He smiles at you, a smile too sweet for what he's about to do but you still smile back. “Don’t be, I’ll make you feel good.”

And you know he will because he’s a man of his words.

You close your eyes tightly as he slides your panties off, resisting the urge to completely close your legs because he’s so close and you feel so exposed. And he wastes no time, face just above you and when his fingers come in contact you jump a little.

You feel as he parts your lower lips, a puff of breath making a shiver run down your body and then he’s pressing a kiss to your most sensitive spot. A whine leaves your lips because of the new feeling, and it only gets higher when his lips close around you, sucking like he has a purpose. It’s almost overwhelming, both because it’s him and because it’s the first time. He licks at your clit, with swirls of his tongue that are kitten like before he’s flattening his tongue down to your entrance, lapping at it and gathering your wetness so he can move to your clit again.

You trash around and wail, too sensitive but too into it, even more with the way he grips at your thighs to keep them open. He seems to enjoy it, humming against you as he licks you like a starved man before he’s saying with his face still pressed to your center “Taste so good.” The words are muffled and they send vibrations to your core, making you blush as you let out a loud moan.

You come easily, with laps of his tongue and the knot on your stomach getting tighter and tighter until it snaps completely and you cry out, a mess of curse words and his name and white spots blurring your vision. And he continues his ministrations, tongue pressing inside of your entrance as if he doesn’t want to let any of it to go to waste.

When he comes up again his lips are red with your arousal making it and his chain shine. You don’t even have the time to feel embarrassed because he kisses you, a strong press of his lips against yours and then his tongue, that was just a second ago inside of you, invades your mouth and slides against yours. You can taste yourself on him and you can feel his hardness pressing against your exposed thigh, your head spinning as he moans in the kiss.

You try to move your hips to press against his in an almost shy movement, but he feels it. A groan escapes his lips as he breaks the kiss, looking completely disheveled. It’s a sight you would probably never forget. “Fuck, I don’t have anything on me.” He breaths out and you realize he’s talking about a condom and just the thought of him being inside of you is enough for you to close your eyes as a new wave of pleasure runs through your body. “I want to fuck you so bad. God, so fucking bad. Would you have let me, huh? Would you let me fuck your sweet cunt?”

He noses at your cheeks as you throw your head back. This is not something friends should be saying to each other, far from it. But you still nod, because you would without a thought. And maybe that’s your first mistake.

✿

Jaehyun fucks you for the first time on the first day of summer. Not that any of you knew that, it’s just something that if you were romantic enough you would think about.

It’s hot inside his messy room, that you pretended not to notice for his sake. Even hotter with the way he presses kisses against your neck and thrusts into you in a pace that is as calculated as it is maddening. He’s good at it, not that it surprises you.

He eats you out after he finishes inside the condom and you cry out his name because it’s like he’s trying to make sure that you should never settle for anything less than this. And he’s so willing, with his tongue pressing hard against you and with movements that make you grip at his hair for leverage.

It’s as clear as day that he’s experienced at this, at least more experienced than you are, because your body count number doesn’t go higher than two and you had just gotten head for the first time a week ago. It makes you feel almost inadequate at the same time it makes a thrill run through your body, eyes glossy and wide as you stare at him practically devour you.

Your second orgasm hits you with a loud gasp and your whole body shaking in his hold. He holds you like he won’t let you escape, and he doesn’t.

It becomes a regular thing, the fine line you had drawn between your blooming friendship and something else completely gone as Jaehyun calls you on a thursday night, asking you to come over and then fucks you for the second time with the window open, because summer this year was almost unbearable and sweat clings to both of your skins as he makes you come with a shout of his name.

It’s an unspoken arrangement, that when one of you needed it you could always call, be it because you’re so stressed from assignments that you need a way to let it all out or because you had a little too much to drink at a party and needed to feel it.

It goes like this for the whole duration of summer and you think you don’t go three days without seeing Jaehyun. He basically memorizes everything that makes you shake and teaches you everything that he likes, and it’s good. It’s good and it’s easy, no strings attached and you’re fine with it.

But here’s the catch, because there’s always a catch. You’re not really fine with it.

You remember one time, when you were around 8, that a teacher made a joke about you and a classmate being more than friends. The mere thought of a romance at that age had made you cry out loud until your mother arrived to pick you up.

The moment stayed with you, because even at high school, relationships were something you would rather not focus on, not until college at least. But when college came around you didn’t change, still putting your love life aside so you could focus on things that you considered more important.

Now at 21, and still single, it was easy to realize, even if it took some time to finally get out from the denial, that you were scared. Scared of commitment and of being completely vulnerable to someone, even if sometimes when you laid in bed you felt extremely lonely and when you saw your friends getting in loving relationships, it made you just the tiniest bit jealous. It wasn’t a great feeling.

You had never dated before, only had flings that didn’t last much. And you weren’t a romantic, not at all, didn’t think that a relationship would make you happy and definitely weren't willing to give up your dreams for one. But still, it hurtsj ust a little to see your friends settle in while you stayed alone and it hurts just a little that intimacy had become something you desperately craved.

And maybe at the begging of your relationship with Jaehyun you had thought that this would finally be it. And maybe you were also just stupid and too naive to let you relationship get to where it is, but it becomes something more. Somewhere between the first kiss your shared and him fucking you on the bathroom of some party, because you just couldn’t wait, Jung Jaehyun caves a place for himself inside your life and you let him, the feelings blossoming in your chest getting too big to handle every day.

And he is still confusing, because he is too nice, too gentle. He sends you silly pictures of himself during the day, tells you about the skate tricks he finally got right even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. He buys you sweets when you say you had a bad day and sometimes, the times you dread the most, he kisses you like he means something more with it. Sometimes he fucks you with unplaced gentleness that if you closed your eyes you could believe this was something more.

But it isn’t because at the same time you hear whispers about a girl he was with at a party, you see his phone light up with texts that you don’t read, but your mind can’t help but overthink as something that makes your stomach turn.

But you let it happen, because in your mind maybe having him like this is better than nothing, at least for now. And maybe, even if you were craving for it deep down, you weren't ready to have it. So summer comes and goes and you wish your feelings went away with it.

✿

Watching people skate becomes an entertaining activity. Something about the movements and the sound of the wheels rolling on concrete made you extremely calm, putting aside the noises of screaming boys and all the curse words they said.

Even with the direction your relationship took, Jaehyun still seemed to consider you a close friends, something you found extremely bittersweet. He still complained about his classes, still texted you stupid things during the day and he still took you to the skate park to watch him and his friends do tricks for hours.

The only things that had changed were the sex and the fact you were falling in love with him. No big deal.

You watch as Jaehyun’s tall friend, that had been introduced to you as Johnny, goes for a trick that involves him jumping and ends up falling, making everyone around him laugh and scream jokes. It was extremely amusing to see a bunch of 20 years old act so carefree and boyish, a small laugh escaping your lips.

Jaehyun helps Johnny up, a wide smile on his face as he says something you can’t exactly hear but it must be funny because it makes Johnny laugh. You’re so entranced with the scene that you don’t notice the red hair man approaching you.

“Whats up, ___?” Yuta says with a grin as he stands tall in front of where you’re sitting on a bench. He was one of the few of Jaehyun friends that actually tried to make you feel welcome when he brought you along to their skate sessions, always making conversation and offering to keep you company.

“Hey, Yuta.” You smile back, shielding your face from the sun so you can see him better.

“Just gonna sit here by yourself?” Shrugging you watch as he drops the skate he had been holding down and steps on it as a habit. “I can teach you how to skate if you want.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. “No thank you, I've seen you fall too many times to consider that.” Jaehyun had already offered you the same thing too, but you had absolutely no interest in getting up that four wheeled thing and ending up with a broken bone.

“Please, I'm just falling to get your attention.” His flirty words are not a surprise. He had been like this from the moment you met, saying things that made a blush set on your face. At first it had made you confused but now you knew it was just how he was. “Besides, I never fall as hard as I'm falling for you.”

The last words are said in a sultry voice that makes you laugh even louder, hand coming to your face as you shake your head in disbelief. “Pfft, you’re so corny.”

The sound of your laughter must have attracted attention, because next thing you know Jaehyun is approaching the both of you with his skate underneath one arm and a weird look on his face. “What’s up?” He asks when he gets close enough, dropping the skateboard down and lifting the snapback he has on to run a finger through his hair.

Yuta rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. “Jeez, nothing. Mind your business.”

You laugh, giving him a pointed look that seems to amuse him to no end. “Don't be mean.”

That makes him smile and he winks at you before saying “Just ‘cause you asked nicely.” And then he’s skating away, leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

He looks at you and smiles just shy from letting the dimples you liked so much show up. “Was he bothering you?”

You scoff. “Or course not, Yuta is harmless.”

“Yeah, right.” His tone drips in sarcasm as he sits down right next to you, legs spread open and an arm coming to rest behind you. Sometimes his actions screamed masculinity and it made you feel a weird thing inside of you.

“He was just messing around, he says flirty stuff to everyone.”

He huffs, looking around everywhere like he’s trying to avoid your face. “It’s just.. they keep talking about you. Pisses me off.” The words are barely audible, like he’s just saying it to the air and not to you.

You’re confused, eyes dropping as you pick on the green polish on your nails. “What do you mean?” You didn’t think most of his friends even cared about your existence so knowing they talk about you in the way he’s suggesting is a surprise and it makes you antsy.

He shrugs, giving a small laugh that’s merely another huff. “Doesn’t matter.” You want to ask more but just then he looks at you again, the sunset making him look almost angelic. He’s quick to add another question, as if to not give you the opportunity to say more. “Do you wanna go to IHop after?”

It catches you off guard, but you still nod. “O-Okay.”

Jaehyun confused you some times and that’s what happens when he slides a hand to your cheek after nodding. The kiss he presses to your lips is chaste, not quick but also not long. It feels like something casual, like a couple would do out of naturality.

It’s the first time he kisses you in front of his friends or outside of his room, for that matter. It makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy but you’re not stupid and you would have to be to not realize what this is. He’s trying to show his friends that they shouldn't mess with you.

It’s a bittersweet kiss, like most things seem to be these days with him. He walks away after breaking the kiss, with the excuse of saying his goodbyes before you can leave and you watch him with a twisting feeling in your stomach.

The kiss is not mentioned again as you two walk side by side to the restaurant but the weird feeling sticks with you. Most days you try to act like nothing's wrong, because if you think rationally about it, it isn’t. But there’s something about the look on Jaehyun’s face when he talked about his friends, and there’s something about the way you want desperately to hold his hand but can’t, that makes you want to cry just a little.

He orders huge pancake pile that you both share, making you laugh when he stuffs his mouth too full and offering you the last piece because that’s just how he is. It makes you forget about the lingering feelings for a while, the warmth of having a friend like him settling in instead and you can’t help but wonder if it would’ve been better if it just stayed like this.

When the pancake is over and you’re both too full to even have a conversation he slides his hand to where yours is placed on the table. It’s just a small gesture, him picking your hand up in his and eyeing your fingers before saying “I like when you paint your nails like this.”

He means the colorful setup you got going on, with each finger a different colors because you just liked how it looked and it made you happy. “Maybe I can do yours one day.” You say around a smile.

And he agrees, of course he does. “That would be nice.” He continues holding your hand but you don’t think much of it. “That movie we wanted to watched came out, wanna go watch it at my dorm?”

In your mind you think that’s clue for something else so you just laugh, shaking your head. “I don't know Jae. I’m so full i don't think I can have sex without like throwing up.”

The laugh he lets out makes you heart feel full. “We are just going to watch a movie.” He says while squeezing your hand softly.

And you do end up just watching a movie, like old times. It’s fun and you feel happy, but the feelings in your heart come back in full force when you go back to your dorm and you can’t help to wonder what it would be like if you could just stay at his and cuddle like a couple would do. Then you wonder what it would be like if you hadn’t crossed the line.

If you cry yourself to sleep, then that’s beside the point.

✿

Three days later Yuta asks if you and Jaehyun are dating, out of curiosity. The question makes your stomach turn, and when you say no he asks you out on a date. It’s weird, mostly because you think at first that he’s just joking as always, flirting with you to make you laugh. But when it dawns on you that he isn’t, you say you would think about it.

You say that for two reasons. Just yesterday, you had to sit on a lecture while some girl whispered about how Jaehyun had a big dick and how she knew that was obvious. You had heard about people talk about him before, and it always made you feel weird but now, when every time you’re with him you can’t help but feel your feelings get stronger and stronger, it makes you feel almost sick. That’s reason number one.

Reason number one is that you have realized that you deserved to be on dates and have fun, and just feel like your feelings mattered and were reciprocated.

So you say you’ll think about it and you do, and the realization you come to is far deeper than you expected. And in retrospect, maybe it was a bit out of impulse.

You’re laying on Jaehyun’s bed, right after you two fucked, with you on top because he fell down and hurt his ankle. You’re wearing a big t-shirt of him and he has one arm across his eyes, recovering his breath and basking on the glow that is an orgasm.

You don’t know why you say it, but next thing you know you’re sitting up on the bed and letting the words out. “Yuta asked me out.”

His arms slides to his side as he looks at you, eyes swirling with something you can’t quite place yet. “What?” His voice gives it out, jealousy. “And what did you say?”

“I said yes.” You don’t take your eyes off him. It’s a lie because you didn’t know what you were going to say yet. But you felt like you had to say something to him before you made any decisions. Like you owned him something.

“Why?” His eyebrows are furrowed and you can’t help but scoff.

“Because I wanted to.” You suddenly remember the girl from your class, and the other rumors and it just makes you feel bitter. He just mutters a low okay, like he doesn’t know what else to say right now and it just pisses you off. You wonder if it would be better if he protested against it.

A lump forms in your throat as he avoids your eyes, and you decide that you need to be brave enough for once. “I think… That maybe we should stop doing this.” It’s tentative, the lump only growing as you watch him close his eyes tightly. There’s something you want him to say but you have a feeling he isn’t.

“Because of Yuta?” Your head drops as you shake it. He’s unbelievable.

“No, what the fuck? Of course not.” You hiss, looking at him and wishing he would just look at you. Maybe that would make this better. “I- I just don’t think I can do it anymore.”

It’s the truth. But why do you feel like crying? There’s a pain in your chest that makes you want to run from here and hide forever, a headache starting to form from holding back your tears. He takes a deep breath, finally opening his eyes but still not looking at you. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” He sounds pained but it’s all that he says.

You get up from the bed slowly, gathering your things in complete silence and you know then that everything from now on will change. You wish he would say something, beg you to not leave, tell you that he doesn’t want to stop it. Wishes that he would just hold you and comfort you like he always does, but he doesn't. “We… We can still be friends.” You mumble out, because that’s the thing you’re scared to lose the most.

He lets out a sad little laugh that breaks your heart. “Of course. We’ll never stop being friends, ____.”

And you can’t help but laugh quietly too, before you’re muttering out your goodbyes and leaving the room before you turn back on it like you want to.

✿

Jung Jaehyun was not a big romantic, despite being literally born on the day that glorified it. It’s not that he doesn’t care about it, he’s still soft hearted after all, but the big gestures and all the dramatics that seemed mandatory to it just didn’t do it for him. He always thought that love should be something easy, that came naturally and without much thought not something that served to rip your heart of your chest and leave you restless.

That’s why he probably has so much trouble dealing with it, because it usually wasn't easy at all.

He remembers when his parents got a divorce when he was in high school, something that he saw coming but still managed to mess with him. At the time he refused to cry about it or even acknowledge the whole thing was happening, instead staying out of home until late hours and deciding that some things weren't worth enough to bother about.

He went like that until Johnny said the words he thinks about sometimes even now. “You have to own your feelings.” He had said as they sat side by side on a sidewalk, sweaty from skating but with the adrenaline, that only feeling the wind as you go down a slope can make you feel, pumping on their bloods. “If you don’t you’ll never be able to be yourself. Or know what you want.”

Right now, as he thinks about that moment he gets a bit nostalgic, even feels like crying a little bit. Doesn’t help that he’s close to being high out of his mind.

Johnny sits by his side, just like he did that day, only this time it’s at the balcony on the apartment they shared. He takes a drag from the blunt they had been passing back and forth for the last hour, watching the sunset and not really talking about anything in particular.

“Do you think we can find love here?” He asks suddenly, the words escaping his mouth because he just couldn’t contain them anymore.

“What you mean here?” Johnny’s voice is slurred and he seems just as cloudy as Jaehyun is. If they weren’t high they would probably think this was far from a conversation to have in this state.

“In college I mean. I feel like every relationship that happens in this place is doomed to become just a passing thing.” He stumbles over the words, gesturing around with slow motion and it’s probably the deepest thing he has ever said, high or not. “Something to forget about after graduating.”

All his past relationships had gone away like wind, like something that never really even happened. It never felt important, like something that he would take him for the rest of his life. That thought bothered him for a reason and he always preferred to not think about that, but right now he feels like he can’t escape it anymore.

His friend thinks for a second, the look on his face indicating he’s long gone as he stares outside. “I don't know man. I think you can find love anywhere if you are open to it.” He says simply and all in one breath.

It’s silent for a moment and he watches the sunset, the sky a mix of orange and pink and it makes him think of you. These days his thoughts are all over the place, but your presence in them is constant. It had been just a week since the last time he saw you but it had definitely been getting to him, and it’s not hard to know why.

“I think I’m in love.” It’s easy saying it than he thought it would be. “With ___.

Johnny smiles knowingly. “Why do you think that?”

Because he can’t look at a sunset and not think of you. Because there are songs he can't listen without thinking about how you would probably like them. Because he catches himself thinking about the way you laugh with your cheeks turning pink when he makes a joke that is not even funny. Because of how you always have something smart to say back to his teasings. Because the thought of you being with someone else pisses off and because it feels safe and easy when he’s with you.

“Because I miss her.” It’s what he decides on. “And I've never missed anyone like this before.”

He feels like he has just let out a breath he's been holding on for a long time, his mind fuzzy and he can’t help but let a silly laugh.

“I think you should probably tell her that, then.” Johnny says simply, laughing too.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

✿

You see him for the first time again two weeks after what happened. It had been enough time for you to get over it, but you don’t. Only further proof that your feelings ran deeper than you wanted them to.

Even with the promise of staying friends, the need for a time to collect yourself was obvious, so you stay out of touch with him for these days and it’s hell. And you think about Jaehyun more than you want to, his face appearing in your thoughts every time you close on your eyes, no matter how busy you tried to keep yourself. That’s why your heart basically somersaults out off your chest when you see him on campus when you’re making your way to your dorm after a very boring lecture.

It’s cliche and something that would probably fit on a movie, the way his eyes go wide as he sees you all the way from where he’s skating with some friends, not even minding that Yukhei was in front of him and collapsing into him almost in slow motion. You watch as he falls down with your lips in a comedic ‘oh’, Yukhei coming with him as everyone around them falls into laughter.

It doesn't seem to faze him, though. Because next thing you know he’s getting up, seemingly not hurt, helping his friend and picking his skateboard up. He practically runs to you after that, baggy clothes moving with him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Is what you ask when he finally gets close enough to you that you can hear his heavy breathing. His cheeks are fully red as he pants.

You look at him with wide eyes as he catches his breath, arms crossed in front of you. The antsy feeling on your gut only gets worst by the second.

“Don't — Don’t date Yuta.” Is what he says after a while, the words rushed as if he couldn’t keep them in anymore and all you can do is gape, confusion painted all over your face.

“What?”

He sighs deeply, hand running on his face. “I — Fuck. I know I sound like an asshole but I don't want you to date him, please.”

You narrow yours eyes. He hasn’t talked to you in over a week and this is the first thing he decides to say. “You’re making no sense right now.”

He seems stressed, mouth opening and closing as if he really doesn’t know what to say. Like this is what it is, an impulsive action. “Listen, I’m not good at this relationship thing.” Is what he starts with, looking at you with eyes pleading and feet shuffling. “But I… I wanna try.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath as you let the words sink in. Your head spins with his confession, to stunned to say or do anything but look at him with parted lips and softening eyes.

“Can you give me another chance?” He continues, voice dripping with something that sounds a lot like begging, but you know that’s not like him to do. “Just one more time. I promise I’ll do it right this time.”

When his words finally settle in you can’t help but let out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you stupid?” His head drops immediately, ears turning red as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Come on please, don’t do that.” His bottom lips jut out when he looks at you again, you still smiling because he really is stupid. He really has no idea. “I- I’m in love with you. Fuck, I really am.”

He says the word in a sigh and it surprises you, catches you off guard because even if he just said he wanted to try again, you didn’t think that he was feeling the same way you were. You look at him for a second, eyes wide before your lips turn into a smile. “You really are stupid.” Another laugh and he looks defeated, until you continue. “I don't want to date Yuta. I never did.”

He tilts his head, confusion gracing his features. “No?”

“You wanna know why?” It’s a rhetorical question because you quickly add the words you have wanted to say for so long. The feelings that scared you but at the same time made you feel extremely alive. “Because I'm in love with you too.”

It’s blissful watching his face turn into one of completely adoration as his lips turn into the biggest grin, dimples showing and you heart beats with all the love you feel for this stupid, stubborn and lovely man. “You are?” He asks, hopeful and around a smile.

You barely have the time to nod before he’s letting his skate fall to the ground and he’s coming forward to give you a hug that lifts you from the ground, a yelp coming from your lips but it quickly turns into a giggle as he twirls you around in his arm in pure happiness.

For a second you forget about every doubt you ever had. You just let yourself bask in the wonderful feeling that is being held by him.

He wastes no time to press a searing kiss to your lips when he lets you down, holding your cheeks in his hands and you kiss him back with as much passion. In the back you can hear the cheers of his friends, and even if you flip them over, you are still smiling.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct smut #commission #oooh this was a ride #a fic about jaehyun being an aquarius man #would love to hear what you guys think about it :)#disclaimers: i didnt proofread this yet #and ive never been to ihop #lmao

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harmoni-me · 3 years

Note

hello it’s me again! thank you for fulfilling my request i just loved it. can you please do a continuation? like- reader starts receiving these anonymous love letters and gifts, this drove the boys (and the reader) to confess their feelings in the end. angst to fluff

Wow, thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! This one is even longer than the last, so please have fun reading this one!

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma Pt. 2

Crunch

Huh? What in the world-

Last time you remembered reaching into your school duffle bag, all you had in it was a comfy change of clothes for when gym activities rolled around, and a wet bottle of water that was dripping with condensation, but…

You didn’t remember an envelope, not in the slightest.

A nervousness started to boil over from your head to your heart, face heating up as quickly as hot coals on a cold evening. Is this… what you thought it was?

You’re stomach dropped at the realization, plunging into the depths of your being, as a realization struck.

This…this was probably not who you thought it was from.

In retrospect, the sting would only sink in deeper if only a single letter was given.

You weren’t satisfied, and that made you feel like you were scum, too dirty to even bother to be dealt with.

Even feeling a great amount of resentment to the silly thing, it’s not like you weren’t going to open it. You weren’t heartless when it came to the topic of possible confession. I guess you could say that the author of the letter made you feel something you haven’t felt in a while.

It’s was pure, unbridled, bitter jealousy. Jealousy that engulfed your vision, clouding all sense of realism.

Why could someone so anonymous have more guts about dealing with their crush than you? This person, who you didn’t even know, had the heart of a lion to sit down, write out something deep and personal, and somehow get it to you.

You were jealous, because you would never have the heart to do the same.

Once the bell rang to signal the last period of the day, you begrudgingly stood from your desk, knowing what you had to do. You had to open it, it would be extremely inconsiderate if you didn’t.

While you were walking in the hallway to somewhere slightly more secluded, you slipped the letter out of your bag. It was pure white, and it wasn’t made out of anything fancy. The opening was sealed by a simple piece of clear scotch tape, and when turning the message over, on the back was large, red letters that spelled your name in delicate cursive. You really wanted to get this over with.

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD-“ You jumped out of your skin, dropping the envelope in your hand, causing it to flutter to the floor.

“Nehehe! I got you so good!” A purple-haired brat giggled at your jump of fright, rounding the corner he was hiding behind. His eyes then wandered to the envelope that was laid flat on the tiled floor, his eyebrows rose, and a smirk slowly carved his way onto his face.

“Oooo, what’s this little thing, hm? An invitation? A secret message?….” Kokichi knelt down to pick up the letter, fitting the paper between his middle finger and index finger. He got up all in your face, an evil smile plastered on his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. He got closer to your ear, voice dropping, and his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe…a love confession? Aww, how sweet…” Kokichi hummed, pleased by the steamy expression your face turned when you were embarrassed. Then, as suddenly as the actions before, Kokichi hopped backwards, grasping onto the letter with both hands, raising it aggressively high in the air.

“Ahhh! The anticipation! What’s inside, what’s inside, what’s inside?!” Kokichi kept on blabbering, waving the envelope all over the place, as if he was a child on Christmas Eve, shaking a wrapped gift to see if they could guess its contents.

When you saw the best opportunity, you quickly snatched the letter back from the naughty boy’s grubby little hands, huffing with a blush on your face once you retrieved what had been addressed to you.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, which had now been abandoned. Slowly, you sunk yourself down to the ground, not once taking your eyes off of the red lettering that spelled your name in flawless cursive. You noticed upon close inspection that the lettering was a little smudged at the ends, most likely from Kokichi’s roughhousing with it.

A rough thump rang out next to you, making you look over with not much interest. Kokichi, in all of his nosy glory, had sat right up next to you against to wall, head shoved all in your business.

“Come on! Open it already! The suspense is killing me!” Kokichi was vibrating from waiting so patiently....to what extent Kokichi could be patient, that is.

You sighed, giving up. It was most likely anonymous anyway, so Kokichi won’t even know who to target ruthlessly on for the next month.

You let the tip of your finger slide into the opening of the letter, breaking the tape to the prized information. You carefully slipped out the neatly folded piece of paper, which was a thicker, almost card stock like texture.

Even before opening it, you could feel the emotion that radiated out of the paper. You suddenly had an image turn in your mind, of a person looking to be your age, carefully writing every word down as perfectly a flawed human could. Though, you could imagine them also grasping at their hair, crumbling up previous attempts, over and over again, as if disposing of their emotions, yet rebirthing it to be conveyed better each and every time.

It made you feel that much worse, knowing that the writer’s feelings are in no way reciprocated. You couldn’t, because the feelings to give back were already stolen in their entirety. By two other people, none the less.

Ironic how one of your two fattest crushes you’ve ever had in your life was basically huddling into you right at this moment, wanting so desperately to know what the paper read.

When finally did unfold the letter, you were met with beautiful, curvy handwriting, not a spelling error or smudge could be found.

. . .

To the one who my heart yearns for the most,

I’ve lost track on how many times I have written this letter. For reference, the bin next to me is now filled to the brim and was completely empty just two hours ago, but that’s not important, is it?

Let’s get the obvious things out of the way, shall we? I adore you. Though I’m keeping this anonymous, I want you to know that my heart has grown ten times it’s size ever since the day I met you. Every single attribute about you I hold as a precious keepsake within my mind. Every time you do anything, say anything, I want to keep it all to myself. I want to lock the sound of your voice, and keep vivid pictures of your smile fresh within my memories.

You, (Y/N), have made me feel things that I thought I had become numb to. I was unapproachable. A man that was blinded by his own psychotic desire to be used, that’s what I was.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but I believe you’re my guardian angle, sent to be due to God’s pity. Now that I’ve written it down, that was stupid, but I’ll keep it, because it’s the truth.

You saved me from myself, causing me to unsurprisingly fall in love with the one who made me realize I was a human, standing among other flawed humans, all having different lives, hopes, talents, aspirations...

Your kindness, no, your everything gave me so much room to simply breathe, and realized what I was doing to myself and to others.

Now that that’s out of the way, I would like to mention something I’ve...conjured.

I’m not very great at using my words, so that’s why I’ve poured everything into this letter, but you deserve to know who I am.

I’m scared, and if you do see me, I might not be able to get a good amount of words out but

In two days from now, after school, I want to meet you. I was thinking on the school rooftop? If you decide to come, I’ll be there waiting.

. . .

Wow

Who...who was this guy? And why...

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glossy from such words. This could be anyone, yet, what did you do? You were friends with many people, but not like this...you don’t think?

You suddenly felt something warm wiping away your now falling tears, gliding over your cheeks to brush away your liquid sadness.

“Hey, don’t cry...it’s not a good fit for you.” Kokichi then used his bandana to gently dry your puffy eyes and crimson cheeks. You looked up at the boy, who had the tiniest smile present on his face. It was almost as if that was how far the smile could go.

The sun broke through a window across the hallway, landing on Kokichi and his facial features. You looked into his eyes, but something was off.

Those eyes, they reflected a lot more light than they usually did, as if they were simply water in a pond. Was he-

“Well, that sure was something, huh?” Kokichi turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, trying to be discreet. You noticed though, but decided to not say anything.

. . .

When you thought things couldn’t get worse, you had totally jinxed yourself the next day.

You wanted to get your water bottle out of the your school duffel bag during class, because humans have to drink every once in awhile, but when you did...

Crunch

What...what even was that?

You honestly didn’t even want to bother until the end of the day with how you were feeling right now.

You were slumped, once again, in an empty hallway, browsing your phone and looking at funny cat videos to raise your vibrations. At least they made you smile.

“Is there a kitten nearby?” A voice had pierced the atmosphere. You looked up, it was Nagito standing over you, a face of half wonder and half concern delicately painted on his features.

You looked downcast, and you hated hiding your emotions, so it was plainly evident to Nagito how you felt in that moment, and he was heartbroken.

He placed his belongings next to you, along with himself, comfortably hugging his knees into his chest. He turned to you frowning a bit.

“You...only watch cute animal videos when you’re sad. Is... there anything wrong?” Nagito questioned, wanting to help you as much as you’ve helped him.

“It’s kinda personal, but your company already makes me feel better, so it’ll all be fine.” You gave the white haired boy a little smile, showing just how genuine you were.

Nagito hummed, nodding in understanding. He was playing it cool in front of you, but he really wanted to punch the person that made you feel like this.

It’s funny, because he probably has an idea of who...

“Oh, yeah, the thing...” You mumbled, reaching over to dig around in your duffle bag. When you felt the crunchy texture, you pulled it out, revealing something something that you honestly weren’t expecting.

It was a large pink lollipop, and it was in the shape of a heart.

It was probably as big as your head, and there was a clear, wrapper-like foil around the treat, preserving it for the consumer.

“Where did you get that?” Nagito raised a brow, because it was quite ridiculous how absurdly large this lollipop was. It was a funny sight though, seeing you side to side with with a sweet that could easily cover your whole face.

“I... think someone game this to me?” You thought, smiling a bit at the silliness of the situation.

But your mind wandered... was it the same person who wrote the letter? Then again, you didn’t think it would make sense with someone like him getting, well, this. Especially after writing something so deep and personal. This just kinda seemed incredibly random.

Either way, you started to unwrap the lollipop, wanting to eat some of it, even though you were most likely not going to finish the thing.

Resuming the cat videos, you repositioned the phone between you and Nagito. The boy took a glance, watching as he saw a fluffy white kitten get scared from playing a note on a piano, making him chuckle.

“You wanna watch somethin’ else, Nagi?” You asked Nagito, making him perk up in attentive nature. His smile conveyed so much care for you, as if you were his most prized gift he had ever received in his life.

“I’m bound to enjoy anything you would like, (Y/N)! Please, pick whatever you would like!” Nagito waved his hands, signaling not to worry about him, after all, you were the sad one out of you two for the moment.

“Ok! We’re watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people!” You promptly spoke, grabbing the phone and setting up the Hell’s Kitchen episode.

“Don’t mind me asking, but who is that?” Nagito questioned genuinely, making you gasp in surprise. How?

“He’s one of the best chef’s in the world, but he’s super strict with his employees, so it’s kinda entertaining. You’ll see!” You exclaimed, scooting yourself closer to Nagito, propping up the phone. You leaned into his side, taking a little nibble from your lollipop.

Nagito’s eyes kept on darting from you to the screen, having trouble with containing his emotion with you simply leaning on him to watch a show about...a vulgar-mouthed chef.

“Hm? What’s the matter?” You looked up at him, face inches apart from his. He didn’t respond, too nervous to trust his mouth. Lucky for him, you cut in.

“Oh! You want some?” You stuck the untouched side of the lollipop to Nagito’s mouth.

His brain and heart were on fire, and not a lick of logic was left. He pressed his lips against the candy, and sucked on a small portion.

It was your favorite flavor...he liked it way better than artificial grape soda, by a long shot.

After licking to his satisfaction, Nagito locked his teeth into the part he had been abusing with his mouth, biting off a piece for to-go.

“I need to go to the restroom, ok? I’ll be back.” He said, getting up from his seated position, making his way and entering into the boys bathroom at the end if the hallway.

You don’t know if he knows, but boy, you were blushing up a storm. He literally just gave you an up close and personal presentation on how his tongue did it’s work. Now, you didn’t really care for dirty thoughts, but after witnessing that, you couldn’t help it...

You looked down at the lollipop, now with a small chunk of it gone missing from the main snack. You examined it, and realized something so blatantly obvious, it was embarrassing.

Rapped around the white stick of the lollipop was a piece of yellow paper, and without much thought, you unraveled it.

It was a note, but it was short, and written it blue colored pencil.

. . .

Found this at a candy store, and bought it because you looked sad the last time I saw you. Seeing you sad makes me sad and stuff so yeah. I’m not signing my name here or anything, cuz that would just give away the surprise! But I’ll confess to you properly in person, cuz I’m better at talking. Meet me tomorrow after school, on the roof!

. . .

Huh?

Was this...the same guy? No, no it’s really couldn’t have been. The handwriting was different, the spelling was off, and they seemed a lot more laid back. Also, the author of the letter clearly stated that he was better at conveying is precious feelings by writing, while this one said they were more than happy to spill their own feeling with their voice.

So, you’ve got two secret admirers now...and both of them want to meet at the same place, and the same time.

Maybe this was all just some twisted, elaborate trick by a group of thugs, wanting to lure you in, then gang up on you like street cats when they found a lowly mouse to pray upon.

You’ll never know, unless you sucked it up and went tomorrow.

. . .

Well, there you were, on the roof after school the next day.

No one was there.

The sky was as clear as your blank mind, which you had forced to stop thinking about the world around you, and what you were doing. The breezed tickled your face, as if the wind tried to replicate the feeling of tips of grass grazing on ones cheek.

The only noise was the muffled chattering from students below, creating the perfect background noise to just...relax.

Until you heard yelling.

It was coming from the stairwell that lead up to the roof. You didn’t move a muscle, it was probably just loud, rambunctious students.

But it just kept on going, and going, on and on like a hyper parakeet who had a shot of expresso.

Well, since your admirers haven’t shown their faces for the past fifteen minutes, there’s nothing better right now than to snoop on the possible drama rumbling around in the stairwell. Might make a good story to tell someday, you never know.

You made your way into the stairwell, only to be met with very familiar voices, but you quickly made your presence unknown to them, hiding behind a wall.

“Kokichi! I told you not to not to get yourself involved!” Nagito raised his voice a little, but not to the point where it was just pure anger talking. Kokichi stood, fists balled up in pent up frustration.

“I know you did! And it was stupid that I did, but-“ Kokichi yelled, desperation in his voice.

“Then WHY? You knew I wrote that letter, hell, you were there helping me write the damn thing, but you go and do this?!” Nagito’s heart was the one talking at this point, because you’ve never heard his voice twinge in such genuine emotional pain.

But now you knew who wrote the letter, it was Nagito.

That didn’t sink in as hard as it was supposed to, until-

Wait, Nagito?

“Y-you don’t understand!” Kokichi responded, clenching his teeth from emotional agony.

“I do understand, and I just want to tell you that you’ve went way too far on this sick joke-“

“IT’S NOT A JOKE!” Kokichi cried out, a rasp in his voice becoming evident.

“Then what is it, Kokichi? Spill it. You know how important this is to me, and I don’t like yelling at you.” Nagito was stern, his voice dominating the purple-haired boy.

“Because...I-I...” his voice broke in sadness and so, so much regret. He suddenly huffed, opening his mouth to wallow out.

“B-BECAUSE I LOVE THEM TOO!” Kokichi sobbed. Thick, wet tears rolling down his swollen cheeks. Nagito was shocked, not saying a word. Nagito’s frown deepend because of the wallowing boy in front of him that he cared so much for. Yet, like always, he could never find the words to wrap Kokichi in warmth and apology. The thought made Nagito’s eyes begin to water.

Look what you did, you hurt him, you absolute scum.

“B-but *hic* I-I-I’m s-so *hic* s-selfish...I...” Kokichi hiccuped, trying his absolute best to get his words across.

“I’M SO FUCKING SELFISH, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU TOO, NAGITO KOMAEDA....y-you b-b-big jerk...” Kokichi wailed, a river of tears poring, falling to the concrete floor; the droplets staining the ground in a darker shade of grey when they landed.

“O-oh my god...K-Kokichi...l-“ Nagito started, hands shaking violently. This was bad, this was really bad.

And you knew that.

So you ran. You ran so fast out of your hiding spot, down to the two people in this world that you cared about the most.

And before you knew it, you harshly brought the both of them into your arms, causing the three of you to to collapse onto the ground.

You let it all out. You bawled into their arms, letting out your cries. Whether it was just from sadness, or of relief, that didn’t matter. You cried, until your eyes went dry, and all of your tears were soaked into the boys’ shirts.

. . .

After a bit, all was silent, except for the breathing of you three all mixing together. Your bodies were intermingled, assuming the best position for comfort and care.

You needed to say something, anything. You needed to tell them, or else everything will fall apart.

“I can’t choose.” You put it simply, the two other boys perked up, tear stains prominently showing on both of their faces.

“(Y/N)...” Nagito mumbled.

“I desperately need the both of you. So badly. I want to love you two so much I want my lips to hurt from kissing you two so much by the end of each day. I want my hands to cramp from holding both of you two’s hands so much.” You proclaimed, letting out everything that has been building up in your heart.

“I want to wake up with the warmth of two. I want to spend my days and nights with all of my love coming from two. And...I want to try each and every new thing life brings me, with the love of two.” You gasped for air, sighing out of your mouth, regulating your breath to its normal pace.

“I understand if you don- mphf!” You were promptly shut.

Kokichi had placed his lips on yours, causing a jolt of passion to ignite your soul. The feeling was delicate and new, but it was incredibly lovely You promptly kissed back, feeling a joy you’ve never felt before in your life.

The two of you parted with the kiss when the both of you felt soft lips gently peck both of your foreheads. It was as soft as a feather, yet it made the two of you go so incredibly soft.

You and Kokichi looked up to see Nagito, a small smile on his face. One of his hands reached up to your left cheek, while the other hand made its way to Kokichi’s right. He then lovingly dragged his thumbs across both of your cheeks, smile growing wider, while his face became rosy.

“There’s...so much I want to say but...I hope my actions can at least convey how my heart wants to treat the two of you.” Nagito said, his voice dropped, but in a more of a endearing tone than anything. The boy was still smiling like this was the happiest day in his life.

“I think it would be fun if we all had a slumber party as our first date.” Kokichi giggled, nuzzling into Nagito’s long, slender fingers.

“That sounds like fun, I think it would be delightful.” Nagito playfully pinched Kokichi’s cheek lightly, causing Kokichi to giggle, smiling wide.

“But we do have one thing to take care of first...” Nagito glanced over to you, chuckling.

You were fast asleep within the palm of his hand. It made him fall in love all over again, to be honest.

Nagito and Kokichi worked to untangle themselves from your limbs, trying not to wake you. They then promptly proceeded to place you on Nagito’s back, in a comfortable position so you could keep on sleeping soundly.

“You up for taking our little Cutie back to her place?” Kokichi snickered.

“Of course, love. Only if you would accompany me? Nagito stuck out his hand, waiting for the warmth of another.

“You’re lucky I really like you, clover.” Kokichi hastily grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together.

As they began walking out to the main exit gate, Kokichi spoke.

“You know, I said a lie earlier I didn’t like. I don’t just like you...I actually really love you. The both of you. That’s something I could never lie about.” Kokichi pledged, the evening orange sky bouncing off of his face. Nagito squeezed the shorter males hand lovingly.

“I love you too, Kokichi. And not just you also, but the both of you. My heart will be forever loyal to the two of you until I rest in my own grave, remember that.”

#Dangonronpa fanfiction #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #nagito x s/o #nagito komeada x reader #nagito komeada #kokichi #kokichi oma #komeada x reader #kokichi x reader #Kokichi Oma x reader #Nagito Komaeda x Reader x Kokichi Oma #nagito x kokichi x y/n #nagito x kokichi #nagito x reader x kokichi

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stargaze-issei · 4 years

Text

"write for me" (t. kei x fem!reader)

summary; after years of crushing on you, the introverted writer from class, tsukishima finds a way to let all his feelings out. if he couldn't talk to you, then he would write to you.

genre; fluff.

warnings; none.

word count; 1.3k

autor's note; i'm sorry but i thought once about tsukki being a writer and here i am now lmao. i could totally see him using writing as a coping mechanism bc he can't express his feelings. is this self inserted? yes very much. anyways, enjoy.

everyone knew tsukishima was smart, he liked to read and was and extreme geek. he could tell you trivias from every marvel movie if you asked. maybe that's what drawn him to you. imagine how hard his jaw dropped when he saw his middle school crush in his same classroom, there, in karasuno. to yamaguchi, it was hilarious. your figure hadn't change so much during holidays, if anything, you were even prettier. of course, tsukishima would never say that out loud. he had made sure to get a seat from behind you, in order to make his staring less obvious, but never escaping from yamaguchi's comments on how he should at least talk to you.

the first time he noticed you, was during a break in your old school. you were sitting in the floor with a notebook supported on your thighs, writing something with a weird speed. even between all those noisy kids, balls flying around, you seemed so focused on your writing that it almost looked out of place. kei's head was filled with questions on what got you so excited to write, because being a writer himself, he knew that inspiration was a hard thing to get. since that moment, his eyes always found a way back to you. sometimes, you just stared at a blank paper, or write your brainstorm down. it would be a lie if he said he never wondered what was on that paper, on those notebooks. more than once he stayed up all night thinking about it.

"there are tons of others schools! it has to be a sign, tsukki!" yamaguchi had tried to convince him to talk to you for ages, but an uncommon shyness struck the blonde whenever it came to you.

"shut up, yamaguchi" he always shut him down, but his friend understood, and seeing tsukishima get flustered was always a pleasure to sight.

in the whole time he knew you, you never seemed sad. yes, you were usually by yourself, but he catch on those small smiles whenever you were satisfied by what you wrote, or when you laughed at yourself for any reason. he was sure that, at least throughout middle school, you were happy. someway along the way, it changed. you were making new friends, and to anyone who didn't pay attention, you were happy as always, but he knew you weren't. tsukishima desperately wanted to talk to you, he hated seeing those bags under your eyes, that fake smile. he wanted you to be happy and didn't know how to help you.

"hey y/n.

you looked sad today, i wanted to talk to you but i couldn't. is it because you stopped writing? if it is, please don't, i look forward to read something from you.

ps. please don't get scared, i'm not a stalker. i just like you, a lot"

he folded the little note in two, he would deliver it after practice in your locker. if he said he wasn't nervous, he would be the biggest liar ever. his hands were shaking while writing, in practice, he couldn't block a single hit because he was too busy thinking about your reaction. of course you would get scared, who wouldn't? he basically said that he watched you enough to know when you are sad and asked you to keep doing something as private as writing. but he did worry about you. the only other option was to actually talk to you, but that was not happening. first, because he had a reputation to keep. tsukishima kei, the sarcasm in human form, showing feelings over a crush? nope, not in this lifetime. second, at least this way he had the benefit of the doubt. if you thought he was some cute, sweet boy, maybe you wouldn't run away, but if you knew it was him, it was over. most people were scared of him.

he decided to do it, against all his better judgement.

the next day, he made yamaguchi pretend to talk to him near you locker only to see your reaction. every minute seemed eternal, until you finally arrived. he couldn't avoid thinking how pretty you looked in your uniform. both him and yamaguchi, who he had updated of his doings, stared at you while the piece of paper fell to your feet. thank god the halls were full enough for you to not feel their piercing gaze, because they weren't even blinking. as you read, tsukishima could swore his heart stopped beating. but when he saw your lips curve in a smile? he was done. he had made you smile. you were smiling at his handwriting, at something he wrote, damn, it felt like a whole world had been presented before him. he didn't had butterflies in his belly, he had a complete fleet of birds.

it became a routine to leave you little notes, saying how cute he thought you were, or him asking things, even if you couldn't respond, he just wanted you to know he cared.

"hey y/n.

i thought you presentation in japanese history was amazing. and don't even think i'm biased, because of course i am, but that's not the point. how you smiled at the end made it ten times better.

ps. that hair pin looked really pretty"

as usual, he waited until the end of practice to leave it. a paper folded was stuck with tape outside your locker that time, blocking the entrance. his heart started to beat faster, had you left him a reply that time?

"hi, you.

it's been a month since you started leaving me notes, it would be rude of me to not answer. you make me feel really good, you know? i was surprised at first, nobody else notice how sad i was but you. i'm not anymore, mostly thanks to your words. i can't get you out my mind, it bothered me to not have a face to place in my thoughts. i wanted, no, i want to meet you so bad. do you really like me? i like to think you wouldn't lie to me, so i won't lie to you. i'm pretty sure i like you too. i can even hear you thinking, how could i like you if i don't know who you are?, well, think again, tsukishima kei."

the first thing he felt was fear. god, he was so scared. he re-read it, it said you liked him back. did you though? he was so... unlikeable. someone as nice as you just couldn't be into him. but he wasn't anyone to say who you could or could not like, so–

"hey, tsukishima" that voice. he had heard it so many time, but for the first time was actually to him. his name between your lips sounded like a completely different thing, something amazing tsukki could hear for hours non stop. slowly, he turned around to face you. you were still in your uniform, meaning you had stayed there for three hours just waiting for him. "aren't you gonna ask me how i figured it out?"

a soft how left his throat. you were kind of entertained by his reaction, you understood the shocked, you had felt it when you realized it was him sending you those cute notes four days ago.

"when the guy you like since middle school starts acting strange, you can tell. and the way you wrote, like you knew me from a long time. i was between you and yamaguchi, so i took my chances on you" both of you were to afraid to move, scared that the other was going to disappear "would it be okay if i ask you on a date?" all your confidence had left your body before asking that question.

"that's all i want, dumbass" he answered, going back to be his usual self. you laughed, making his heart skip a beat. "c-can i... get closer?" that was everything you needed to walk towards him, your moves seemed to synchronize perfectly with his.

kei's arms wrapped around your neck, him being to tall to reach your waist, and your arms were around his torso. he felt so warm, like the hug you were expecting your whole life.

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #hq tsukki #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x you #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima #tsukishima haikyuu #tsukishima imagine #tsukki fluff #tsukki x reader #– star's; originals! [❀]

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nyxdelanuit · 4 years

Text

Joy is Yellow (Kaminari x Reader)

Hey guys! This is for the BNHarem collab. The theme this time was Flowers c:

Here’s the link to the rest of the collab! Please look here to find more of your favorite BNHA characters written by some awesome writers!

It wasn’t often that Kaminari was disappointed with becoming a hero, but watching you wander around the farmer’s market in the mid-morning sun, he regretted not being able to do this everyday. You walked arm-in-arm with his friends, unaware of his pining. He wanted to tell you, so badly he wanted to tell you… but if there was one thing Kaminari had learned about himself since graduating UA, it was that as soon as he caught feelings, the words stopped coming out of his mouth right. He couldn’t risk messing everything up. Not with you.

Sero hung off of one arm, Mina on the other. Your bag hung precariously off of your shoulder, threatening to tear Mina’s arm from you as it fell. Yet you didn’t mind, you simply forged forward, smile wide on your face. Kaminari let you pull his friends forward, hanging back to hear your laugh filter through the crowds. His eyes watched your back as you ran around, looking through local honeys, fresh vegetables, and the occasional booth of art and hair pins. The crowd grew larger as the morning went on, obscuring you from his vision when you ducked into tents and booths, but he still took in the crisp air with joy in his heart. Kaminari thought he might finally understand what people meant when they mentioned ‘simple pleasures.’

He had to resist the urge to sprint to your side as your squeal pierced the calm air. The sight of you, unharmed, calmed him somewhat but didn’t ease his pounding heart. Face flushed, eyes wide in joy, and utterly angelic as you took in the wide selection of flowers in front of you.

“Mina, look!” You held a slip of paper out to her, hands trembling in excitement. “I never knew flowers had meanings. Look, this one has almost a whole page!” You were threatening to turn Kaminari’s insides to mush, watching you flitter from flower to flower like a hummingbird, barely stopping to skim over the slip of paper in front of each flower. Kaminari may not be able to get the right words out of his mouth, but maybe….

Daffodils: Inspiration. You inspire me to push myself every day. I want to be someone worthy of your beauty- inside and out.

The note sat nestled inside a modest bouquet of buttery yellow daffodils, still dewy from the chill morning. Your fingers ran over the note, trying to recall the handwriting. It was at least someone who knew where you lived- in a gated apartment for recently graduated students of UA- and someone who knew of your new obsession with the language of flowers. With gentle hands, you scooped up the flowers from your stoop, placing them in a vase you had purchased at the market the day before. It was true what they said, flowers really brightened up a room. Or maybe that was the feeling that sat airily in your chest.

You usually ran into one or two former classmates while wandering around your apartment complex, but Kaminari was becoming a more regular face. It wasn’t unwelcome, you enjoyed every moment spent with the ditsy blonde. You did wonder if he played up his dumb blonde shtick for laughs, but he was always genuine with you. As you wandered through the gates after your shift, it was no surprise that he was the first person you saw.

“Hey! Have you eaten yet?” He called out, a grin plastered on his face. You couldn’t help but think he’d been waiting for you, as self-absorbed as that made you feel. He was still staring at you, the grin faltering before you realized you hadn’t answered.

“Oh, not yet. I was hoping to get out of these gross clothes first.” He nodded sagely before breaking out in another grin.

“Let me pick up some food for us while you change then. And no saying no! I want to have a picnic, and no one else will have one with me!” Kaminari tried his best to give you the most pathetic puppy eyes that he could muster, a smile breaking through as you giggled at his antics.

“Fine, ‘Minari. I’ll meet you out here in twenty?” You were surprised he hadn’t concussed himself with how hard he nodded before sprinting off with a wave. Surely he must have whiplash at least?

If it wasn’t Kaminari Denki, the class flirt, you would almost think the picnic laid out before you was… romantic. He had surely put a lot of energy into it, making sure that the blanket had shade, but wasn’t hidden under the tree, a wonderful view of the late afternoon sky, and most of all, quiet. Not many people ventured to this part of the complex, preferring to stick to the well-worn paths and their own spaces. Your favorite guilty-pleasure dinner was laid out like it was homemade, a bottle of sparkling juice on ice nearby. Kaminari must have been serious about wanting a picnic.

The picnic flew by in a flurry of laughs, leaving you both red-faced and out of breath. He had tried, really, to keep himself serious. There were many questions about how your life was like now that you were outside of school, if you liked your job, and any problems you had been facing. He tried so hard. And then he misjudged the toss of a snack, hitting himself in the eye instead of dropping it into his mouth like he intended. You appreciated his efforts, but you appreciated the unadulterated Kaminari more.

You weren’t sure how it devolved into a pseudo food fight, the two of you desperately trying to win points by throwing food into each other’s mouths. It was funny, and, sweet, and utterly juvenile. After spending so much time trying to grow up quickly to match the world you were thrust into, it was such a welcome reprieve.

He insisted on walking you to your door that night.

“No self-respecting hero would let someone walk home alone. Especially if home is only a few doors down from mine.” The grin on his face as he left you at your door felt a little more genuine that night.

Marigolds: Affection, making a connection. To let you know you’re on my mind. Seriously, you’re on my mind, always.

The marigolds on your doorstep weren’t quite as fresh as the daffodils you had received a few days before, but they still held their pungent smell. You were never a big fan of the smell, but you couldn’t help smiling as you remembered the meme fights Sero and Kaminari used to get into in high school.

“They’re marigolds!” Sero shouted at the top of his lungs.

“My god, I think she’s right, they are marigolds!” Kaminari yelled, overly scandalized.

“I may not know my flowers, but I know a b-” They started together, stopping only when an irate Aizawa turned the corner.

The memory alone would have been enough for you to place them among your daffodils, still standing strong with the flower food you had found squirreled away in your cupboards. The sentiment scrawled on the note only made you want to keep them more. Hopefully the daffodils would cut the scent somewhat.

You hadn’t seen Kaminari since the picnic, besides glimpses here and there as one of you left for work. He had looked so tired lately. You knew that he had Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugou looking out for him, but even then, they were busy too. You were less so, by choice. It was too much to jump into right away, and you were always one to adjust to the waters before you dove. It was time to repay him for the picnic.

The knock at the door surprised Kaminari, he was already setting his alarm to run down to the flower shop before you woke up. Then he could get another bunch of flowers, leave them on your doorstep before you left for work, and get a nap in before his shift. He had tried to ignore the dark circles spreading underneath his eyes and the yawns that plagued him. You were worth a little inconvenience.

So when he saw you on the other side of the door, he thought his heart might stop. There you stood in all your glory, looking like you were plucked straight from some painting he ignored during his middle school museum field trips. He knew better now, if he could find your beauty in the paintings, he would stare for hours.

You cleared your throat, pulling him from his drowsy daydreaming. “Can I come in ‘Minari? You’ve been looking a little beat up lately, so I made you some dinner.” He felt awful as he watched you shuffle the carefully stacked containers of food in your arms. Quickly, he went to grab some of them from you, easing your load and motioning you into his house.

How could you do that? Just a few minutes and a simple dinner, something even he could have made, and he suddenly felt like he could run a few laps. No more yawns, they had been long replaced by full body laughs as he watched you utterly fail at the most recent fighting game he had bought. He couldn’t be bothered to play with you, the food in front of him was too tempting. Kaminari couldn’t remember the last time he had made himself food. You must have been an angel sent just for him.

Sunflowers: Joy, optimism, positive energy. Tell me your secrets, please. How do you light up every room you enter? You chase away all the tiredness in my body. It’s like you’re an energy drink for my soul.

You wondered how you were going to fit such large stems into your vase. It seems like your mysterious suitor had thought of that too, buying only a few smaller flowers. It was starting to look like a proper arrangement, although you wondered why it was all yellow. Surely there were flowers in other colors to convey what he wanted? No matter, the sunflowers in front of you definitely cut through the empty space, filling up your room with enough color to rival the sun.

There was a big assignment that a few of the people in your apartment had been appointed to. Kaminari was included, and you barely caught sight of him anymore. Sero had also been called, but you saw him sneaking into Mina’s apartment with the morning’s light. At least you were assured that one of your friends were being properly cared for.

You couldn’t help yourself, you started leaving containers of food at his door, little notes, and a few healthy drinks to combat the sugary energy drinks he preferred. Your dishes were always returned clean by the next day, and it made you feel like you were doing something more than sitting on your ass working part-time while he was out there giving his all. The night that signaled the end of the assignment, you found your dishes outside per usual, with a note.

Thanks Sunshine.

-Denki

The beating of your heart could be heard in your ears. You were so flustered you didn’t notice how the note matched the others you left on the counter.

Pansy: Loving.

This note confused you. Just a single word as explanation and a bundle of gentle yellow pansies with bleeding black centers. Still, you placed the gentle stems in the vase. You were sure to place them where they wouldn’t be crushed by the more boisterous flowers. The petals were so delicate beneath your fingers, you were afraid they’d wilt at the slightest touch.

You’d be sad after these flowers wilted. It was such a fun experience to open your door every morning and search for flowers on your stoop. Even if they weren’t there every day, it only made the days you found them more exciting. You hadn’t really stopped to consider who had been leaving such sweet presents, but you knew who you hoped it was. Maybe you were just reading too much into it, with all the yellows consuming your thoughts.

You knew that Kaminari had the day off, time to recover from the grueling days of work behind him. Even so, you couldn’t resist making more food than you needed. You missed him, even though it had only been a handful of days. With swift steps and an even swifter knock, you were finally in front of him.

He looked awful, there was no nice way of putting it. His hair was unruly in an unintentional way, dark circles and even darker bruises littering his body. But he seemed to light up at your presence. It was a sight to see as the fatigue lifted from his face, his body less weighed down by his slouching shoulders.

Kaminari ate beside you on the couch, a scene that was becoming familiar to you. It was comfortable here, just the endless chatter of the television to end the silence of the growing night. You stayed long after food was finished and the dishes were washed- Kaminari insisted it was the least he could do. Even longer after, when Kaminari’s head fell heavily to your shoulder. Whatever energy you gave him must have reached his limit. It took some time to maneuver him to his bed, all dead weight, but you slid him under his sheets eventually. With a brush to his hair- simply to get it out of his eyes, you tried to convince yourself- you left as quiet as you came.

There was no flower when you opened your door that morning. It was a little disappointing, they seemed to have come after particularly nice nights with Kaminari before. You let yourself get caught up in your head with every thing you had done since the last bouquet, chewing on your lip as scenarios ran through your thoughts.

A knock came at the door before you were able to chew your lip raw. A quick glance to a mirror and a quick straightening of your clothes made you presentable. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous to answer the door. It was just a neighbor, probably one that has seen you in states much worse than when you first woke up…

It was a pleasant surprise to see Kaminari standing before you. He fussed with something in his grasp before he realized you opened the door. He thrust his fist toward you, a single daisy in his clutch. The poor stem had almost been worried through, leaning at an awkward angle. You accepted it with cautious hands, supporting the tired flower.

“So, Denki, what does this one mean?” You smiled at him coyly, enjoying the way he could barely meet your eyes.

“T-true…” His voice was barely a squeak escaping his throat. You took mercy on him, grasping his hand with your free one. Kaminari’s eyes finally flew to yours, questioning.

“Breathe, ‘Minari.” You smiled, coaching him through a breath, and then two. His eyes were clearer when they met yours again. He let a grin sneak onto his face, bringing him a bit more confidence.

“Daisies mean t-true love… and soulmates.”

After many shared smiles and messy kisses, you led him into your apartment, his hand still clutched in yours.

And many years after, you would still get compliments on your bright yellow daisy pendant, encased in resin and lasting as long as his love for you.

#kaminari x reader #denki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #nyx writes #bnharem collab #kaminari denki x reader

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