#last night while trying to study calc
Text
Not Like Other Girls (Part 2 of 2)
mainly angst, with some smut and fluff sprinkled in
Best friend Jungkook x Fem Reader, Hoseok x Fem Reader
NSFW. 18+
Part 1 > Part 2 (FINAL) > BONUS Part
Premise: Jungkook’s been your best friend since forever, and he loves that you’re “not like other girls,” as he puts it...so what happens when you decide you want to be like other girls?
Warnings: sexism, manipulative friendship, Jungkook and some other idols are just overall misogynistic assholes in this (all a work of fiction obviously, no way meant to represent these idols’ real life personalities), mentions of past internalized misogyny, one noncon kiss, slight physical intimidation, a fight, one more asshole jk warning because he amps it up a notch
____
Two weeks go by, with you ignoring every call and text he sends. Two weeks of you blaring your headphones and walking right by when he waits outside your residence hall or classes. Two weeks since you’ve left the group chat with him and the other two. Eunwoo and Yugyeom message you individually, each saying something along the lines of “Why are you being such a bitch to Jungkook?” You block them eventually. It was easy to block them. Jungkook, on the other hand, has not been easy to block. You’ve tried, fingers hovering over the button many times since the last time you’ve talked. However, something stops you every time. Memories of the past flood your mind: the little spot in the playground that the two of you claimed in fourth grade, the way he’d stayed up all night helping you perfect your science fair project in middle school, how he walked you home after your org meetings in high school. Everything would be so much easier if your mind could just forget about all the good things, but you can’t. The truth—however pathetic it may be—is that Jungkook is in too much of your good memories for you to just cut him off.
Not matter how much of a big game you talk, he still has a hold on you. Which is why, after two weeks of trying to fake indifference, your resolve breaks at the sight of him. He’s waiting in front of your residence hall again, but this time those sad bambi eyes rope you into stopping. He looks a mess with his disheveled hair and puffy eyes. It takes a lot in you to not immediately lead him inside and take care of his tired form. No y/n. Don’t be a doormat again.
“Can we talk in your dorm?”
“We can talk here. I’ll give you five minutes.”
“I’m sorry.” His shoulders are sagging as he looks down at the grass, unable to meet your gaze. You don’t say anything back.
“I shouldn’t have hijacked your birthday plans…and I shouldn’t have yelled about Hoseok…it was wrong of me. It wasn’t from a bad place, I swear! I just want to protect you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, y/n. I can’t not have you in my life.”
“Your way of protecting someone is really shitty.”
“I can see that now, and I promise you I’ll do better. Just don’t push me out of your life, please. I can’t handle it.” His voice cracks at the end, as if he’s too overwhelmed with emotion.
It breaks your heart and your walls all too easily, and you’re embracing him in a split second. He starts sobbing softly into your shoulder. “Come up for a while.” You invite, and the boy follows with his head down. It takes a moment for him to stop crying in your room, spilling apologies while holding you close.
___
The next day is, thankfully, filled with the normalcy you’re used to with Jungkook. You two meet up for breakfast, talking about the most random things as you usually do. It doesn’t feel like two weeks have passed. It doesn’t feel like anything bad happened between you at all. The air is light, and the conversations are filled with laughter, just like your favorite moments with him usually go.
“Are you free to study this evening? I have a calc test coming up and I need moral support.”
“I’m actually studying with a few people from the frat party. We’ve gotten kind of close—especially this girl, Ara. But you should come study with us!”
“With Hoseok too?”
“Yes Kook, he’s not some evil villain, I promise. You’ll like him if you give him a chance.”
You still haven’t told Jungkook you didn’t sleep with the older man. You don’t see the point in bringing it up anymore, since it shouldn’t determine whether or not Jungkook respects you. You just want to move on from the topic and the fight altogether. You also don’t tell him about your make-out sessions these past two weeks, not in the mood for another lecture.
His features visibly tense. “Oh, um…I don’t know. It might be too much of a distraction, and I don’t really know them. I’ll just study alone.” You know Jungkook enough to know what he’s asking without him saying it out loud: Please ditch them and study with me. The plea is clear in his eyes, but this time you act oblivious to it.
“Oh please, I saw you study for that physics final in high school! If you can focus on rotational motion while Yugyeom and Eunwoo argue about which Super Smash Bros character is the kinkiest, you can one thousand percent study with us.”
The two of you giggle at the past memory, and Jungkook eases up a little.
“Alright, I’ll join, and Bowser is definitely the kinkiest!”
“Not when Wario is right there!” You laugh, taking a sip from your best friend’s milkshake as he throws a ‘I told you to order your own’ look your way.
“Speaking of the guys…when do you think you’ll unblock them?”
“No time soon. You’re still on probation too.”
His face falls, but he doesn’t prod further.
---
“Guys, this is Jungkook, my best friend. Jungkook, this is Ara, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jisoo. I met Ara at the makeup convention and everyone else at the Beta Tau Sigma party after.”
You miss the icy glare he shoots at Hoseok. Hoseok seems to miss it too, being his usual friendly self while greeting the other man. Everyone greets Jungkook warmly except Jisoo, who seems a bit wary. She remembers when you ran to some guy and came back crying a couple weeks ago, and how that man looked a lot like this Jungkook guy. Suffice to say, she’s not as enthusiastic to meet him.
The study session goes by alright. Everyone’s stressed and engrossed in their work, but occasional banter and breaks keep you all going. You try to include Jungkook whenever you can, and your new friends—sans Jisoo—also try to strike up conversation with him. Jungkook, however, keeps his replies short and chooses to stay silent for the most part.
It’s only when he’s walking you home does he begin talking like his usual self.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
He shrugs, “I didn’t have much in common with them. I think we should just study alone next time.”
You raise a brow, “That’s not fair, Kook. You barely tried. We were doing our best to include you in the conversation.”
Jungkook doesn’t exactly know why he feels so strongly, but hearing you use the term ‘we’ for you and your new friends puts him on edge. You and him are supposed to be a ‘we.’ These are strangers.
His tone gets snappier at your comment.
“Wow, thank you so much for trying to include me in the conversation y/n. Must be exhausting having to talk to me when your new friends are there.”
“Hypocritical coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you basically treat me like I’m invisible when we’re with Eunwoo and Yugyeom.”
The rest of the walk is silent.
Hours later, when you’re about to go to bed, you get a text from him.
Kook: Sorry :( are you still mad?
You let out a sigh. He’s your best friend, but you wish he wasn’t so frustrating sometimes.
You: Kind of.
Kook: I’ll hang out with them again if you want me to.
You: Will you actually try to get along?
Kook: Yeah, I promise!!!
___
The next time you invite Jungkook out with everyone else is at another frat party. You don’t remember the name of the frat, but it doesn’t matter. There’s good music, godlike seven-layer dip, and an impressive variety of alcohol. You tease Hoseok at how Beta Tau Sigma needs to watch out or their ‘best party frat’ rep is in danger.
“No chance, wait ‘till you see the bouncy castle we’re getting for the next one!���
Jungkook’s jaw ticks at the way you lean close to the other man, laughing and talking as if the two of you are in your own world. It’s extra irritating considering your outfit for the night. You’d mentioned how you were borrowing one of Ara’s dresses, but he had no idea it would be such a tight one. Tight and short, with entirely too much of your chest exposed. It makes your birthday dress seem modest in comparison. He regrets meeting at the party instead of picking you up, wishing he could’ve talked you out of it before you left your dorm.
But he can’t do anything now, except watch Hoseok ogle you as you giggle and bat your lashes at him. It hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet, but Jungkook already wants to leave—and drag you out of there with him.
It’s after a few tequila shots and party games when Ara pulls you aside, asking you how things are going with Hoseok.
“We’re just friends!”
“Friends don’t look at each other like that.”
“Okay, we might be hitting each other up to make out now and then…and maybe I have a teeny tiny crush. But it’s not like it’ll go anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a total fuckboy!”
“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “those rumors are so out of proportion. I know Hoseok and I know he loves sex, but he’s not the ‘I don’t do commitment’ type. He just needs to meet someone he vibes with and he’ll turn into a mushy romantic in a heartbeat.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She breaks out into a giant grin, “Because he’s just like Joonie.”
You can’t help but grin too, tipsy Ara is especially cute when talking about her boyfriend.
“Fair, fair. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”
“You think the two of you will break away from the rest of us again?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Not tonight. Jungkook doesn’t really know anyone here, so it would be pretty shitty to leave him.”
“Yeah he does look like a lost lamb” she motions in the boy’s direction, where his body language couldn’t get any more awkward.
“That’s my cue” you say after taking one more shot and making your way back to Jungkook’s side.
“Here” you say, holding a shot in front of his face. He downs it instantly.
“How ‘bout a dance?” You hope a little dancing can loosen the boy up.
The speakers blast High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco, and you two yell the lyrics while jumping up and down in proper party-dancing fashion. Jungkook gets more comfortable as the song progresses, and you can tell the alcohol is getting to him. The next hour is genuinely fun for both of you, and he seems less apprehensive when the others join—as long as your attention stays on him. The problem starts when a slower, sexier song starts playing, and Hoseok pulls you close. The man wraps his hands around you from behind, sensually rolling his body and guiding you to do the same. Your eyes are closed and you’re too lost in the moment to feel the daggers your best friend is shooting with his eyes.
You excuse yourself for a moment, stumbling into a random bedroom until you can find a restroom to pee. What you don’t expect when coming out, is Jungkook sitting on the bed. He stands up when you come out, making his way closer.
“Oh hey, were you looking for me?”
He nods, now less than an inch away. You take a step back, feeling claustrophobic, but he’s keen on closing the gap.
“Kook, what are you—"
That’s when his lips come crashing down on yours.
It’s barely three seconds until you register what’s going on and push him off. You look into his eyes with pure shock.
“Holy fuck, Jungkook. You’re drunk, aren’t you?”
“Maybe…” he leans back in, but you turn your head away. He’s not a fan of this.
“Why are you dodging?”
“Because you’re not in your right mind! I’m your best friend!”
“And? Isn’t this what you what? Isn’t it better to get it from me than some guy you hardly know?”
“Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘what I want’?” You step back again, bringing a hand to his chest to keep him arm’s distance.
“Don’t act innocent y/n. That dress…the way you’ve been dancing…you’re telling everyone you want to be fucked tonight.”
You push him back, rage coursing through your veins, “I am not fucking you, Jungkook!”
He seems just as angry, almost falling back. “So you’ll fuck Hoseok, but draw the line at me?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?! I’m trying so hard to be nice and understanding, but you’ve been acting like a whore the entire night. You want me to treat you like a whore, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been trying to make me jealous…get me all worked up so I can fuck you good.”
You fervently shake your head no, still processing the absurd things you’re hearing.
“You’re just drunk…that’s why you’re saying all these things. You don’t mean any of this, right? Why would you be jealous…you don’t think of me like that.”
“I don’t think of you like that when you’re being the usual you. But this new persona you’re trying on…you can’t expect me to not be curious when you’re showing off like this. I’m a guy, y/n.”
“No, get away from me! You don’t get to use the ‘it’s a guy thing’ excuse this time. It’s not because you’re a guy. It’s because you’re a complete asshole!”
You try to walk away but he grips your arm, unwilling to let go despite your visible distress.
“Let go!”
“Don’t leave me, please, you can’t leave”
Your distress grows as you try harder to shake off his hold, and you’ve never been more relieved to hear the sound of a door opening than in that moment.
“Y/n, are you in here—” Hoseok stills at the scene, Jungkook’s digging his fingers into the skin of your arm as mascara-black tears roll down onto your cheeks.
“Oh great” Jungkook lets out a dry chuckle, “he’s been looking for you, how sweet.”
Hoseok wastes no time coming between the two of you, prying Jungkook’s hand away and putting his body in front of yours in a protective stance.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stay away from her dude.”
The tension in the air is thick, too thick for even a blade to slice through. The way the men stare each other down has you squirming in anxiety.
“This isn’t your business.” Jungkook bites.
“I think it is.”
“Why? You feel obligated because she’s one of your sluts no—” his sentence is interrupted by a sharp right hook to the face. Jungkook falls flat on his ass, holding the hurt cheek in pain.
“Because she’s my friend you fuckface, and I thought she was supposed to be yours too.”
That’s the last thing Jungkook hears before the world becomes pitch black.
___
You don’t give in after two weeks this time. A month goes by, then another month, then another…and now you’re getting used to not having him in your life at all. It’s easier because, this time, he doesn’t try to call or linger around with those dumb doe eyes. He knows he crossed an unforgivable line and facing you now would have him breaking down in shame.
That night, once he came back to his senses and the world stopped spinning, he couldn’t believe what he’d done. His bubbling jealousy towards Hoseok, the fear of you drifting away, and the unhealthy amount of tequila shots all mixed together to make him do the most asshole thing he could. And now he’s lost you, for good. The days since then have been nothing short of hell, guilt eating away at his soul every moment he’s awake. That’s why he sleeps longer now, sometimes well into the evening—missing a lot of classes along the way. His grades keep plummeting but he can’t seem to care anymore. If you were there, you’d get so mad at him for slacking off; but you’re not there. It’s a month after the incident when Yugyeom drops by, worried because neither him nor Eunwoo get any messages back from him anymore.
“Dude, you look like shit. Will you finally spill on what exactly happened with y/n?”
“I fucked up, big time.”
Yugyeom stays silent as Jungkook spills out everything that happened that night, listening with worry etched on his face.
“Oh shit.”
“I know.”
“You went too far man.”
“I know.”
“I get you’re going through it, but don’t shut us out dude. Eunwoo and I are there for you, okay?”
It’s not long until Eunwoo hears about what happened, calling the day after Yugyeom leaves. His version of consoling is different.
“It’s not entirely your fault. You know that, don’t you? You went overboard because of the alcohol, sure, but your reasons were valid. She should’ve known what she got herself into when she decided that being a bimbo is more important than being our friend.”
Jungkook doesn’t know how much he agrees with that, but he does know that thinking of it that way makes him feel a little less shitty.
___
You don’t tell any of the others what happened, hell, you don’t even tell Hoseok the whole story. You can’t bring yourself to recount the incident without nausea overtaking your body. Thankfully, Hoseok doesn’t pry. He’s the one to walk you home that night, telling the rest you had a headache and need to leave early. He keeps quiet the entire walk.
He drops by your place a lot now, checking in on you. The first month is the hardest, you don’t want to even get out of bed. Thankfully, Hoseok is there to make sure you don’t waste away under your blanket (and that you’re turning in assignments on time). The rest of them can tell you’re different after the party, but you dodge their concerns every time. They still invite you places, even though you seem zoned out when you’re there. Ara, in particular, makes sure to come by with meals every now and again to ensure you’re eating okay.
It's the second month when you start feeling like yourself again. The zoning out and wallowing in pity is replaced with laughter and joy once more; no doubt thanks to your friends’ persistence. A realization hits you during this time: you’re truly free now. Free to explore what type of clothes you like best, wear the most dramatic makeup you want, and invest time in hobbies that make you happy. You’re free to do all of that without a cloud of judgement and insecurity looming over. And so you use this newfound freedom to your fullest advantage, raiding the dress and makeup aisles at the mall—with Ara, Jennie, and Jisoo by your side.
It's the third month when Eun-bi and Sol fly down to visit you, squealing at your new look.
“I cannot believe that you, Y/N Y/L/N, own this many skirts” Sol comments, going through your closet.
You giggle, “You like them better than the sweatpants I wore when I visited, don’t you?”
“It’s not the sweatpants we minded, more the ‘look at these whores’ look you would give us when we wore skirts.” Sol laughs back.
You cringe at the memory, glad it’s in the past now.
___
It’s another usual weekend with Hoseok’s hands in your hair and his mouth on yours, while some Netflix comedy special plays in the background. He pulls away earlier than you’d like him to, though.
“What do you think about going on a date?”
“A date?”
“Yeah…if you want to be more than friends who make out.”
You’re confused and it shows.
“Didn’t you sleep with that art major like two days ago?”
He lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “I’m just getting tired of the hookups. Been getting jealous of Namjoon a lot recently—of what he has with Ara.”
“I thought you said Namjoon became ten times more annoying after getting into a relationship?”
“Oh definitely—but he also looks a hundred times happier. If I have a shot at that with anyone, I think it’s you.”
You can’t help but fawn over the endearing look on his face, eyes brimming with sincerity. It’s by no means a grand romantic confession of love, but it doesn’t need to be. You can tell he’s serious, and that’s all you really need.
“I’d love to Hoseok.”
His heart-shaped smile widens to a toothy grin. He pulls you in for another kiss.
___
The next time Jungkook spots you, you don’t notice him. He’s on his way to the library and you’re on the lawn with all your friends. You’re wearing a flowy sundress and your hair is longer; you’re having the time of your life, with no regard for his presence. Hoseok’s by your side, and it seems he’s the cause of your never-ending laughter. Jungkook knows you’re with him—he’s the heard the gossip all over campus. Gossip is the only way he can keep up with you after being blocked on everything.
Bitterness boils inside of him at the sight: how easily you can be happy without him.
He thought he meant more, thought he was irreplaceable, just like you were to him. He knows he messed up that night, but part of him was still betting you’d come back. He was waiting for you to come back after Hoseok left you broken, and had planned all the words he’d say to assure you he could put you back together again. But it’s been four months since you and Hoseok became official, and you two look happier than fucking ever. He hates it.
But even so, he has hope. Hoseok is still Hoseok, and this happy ever after shit can’t last. He’ll wait for you.
___
Four months turns into a year, and a year turns into two, then three, until you’re walking down the graduation stage while your boyfriend cheers from the audience.
When the ceremony is over, you make your way to your friends, who are all rejoicing at the ending of a chapter.
“We did it bitches!” Ara exclaims, pulling everyone in for a hug.
“Couldn’t have done it without you” you refuse to let her leave your embrace. Your best friend only hugs you tighter, two of you now looking like boa constrictors in competition.
“Alright, alright, enough of Ara hogging. I want my hug” Namjoon pouts, pulling her away from you.
“We get it loverboy, you’re whipped” you punctuate with an eye roll.
He’s not one to let you have the last word, though. “If anyone’s a loverboy here it’s Hobi, mind you. He’s brought up the fact that you’re graduating with honors at least five times in the span of three hours.”
“That’s because everyone needs to know how impressive my girlfriend is!” Hoseok jumps in, chest puffed out with pride.
You laugh, playfully swatting your boyfriend’s arm.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“You know compliments make me embarrassed!”
“So am I just not supposed to compliment my insanely smart, incredibly driven, badass girlfriend who graduated with honors?”
“Make that six times in three hours” Namjoon lightheartedly chides.
It’s in that moment you bump into someone, not unusual in the buzzing crowd of graduates. But this time it’s not a stranger—or at least not in the technical sense of the word.
“Oh I’m so sorr—”
He stills. He doesn’t think he can keep speaking even if he wants to, feeling the heat of Hoseok’s gaze.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” That’s all you say, in the most nonchalant way possible, before turning around and resuming your conversation.
It’s like you never even knew him.
____
A/N: Another fic completed woohoo! Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me. All the interactions are such nice energy boosts to keep writing. Have a wonderful day lovely readers <3
Tag list: @namjooncrabs @starbtslove @gaby-93 @laurynne5
498 notes
·
View notes
Text
NERDS: A Manifesto | A Capella Science
youtube
I got a lyrical proclivity
Special like relativity
General knack of physics
Incredible rap ability
Feeling me? Don't tell me these glasses lack in virility
I'm physically intimate yo
Cause physics is into me
The cold open
Nerds from CERN to Hoboken
The soft spoken
When talking openly
Gets your nose broken
It's no joke and I'm
Not hoping to make light
Just throwing a rope
If you got no hope
To hang tight
Dang right
I know what high school life is like
Can't fight
When every bully is twice your height
Turning the pages fascinated up late nights
But stay bright little nerdling
Cause when the hard part's done you got the world on a string
Leaving home as a hobbit you'll return as a king
Cause modern life is brain boxing and you're lord of the ring
It goes
Nerds!
Our name since junior high
But now we're Doctor Last Name saving juniors' lives
It goes
Nerds!
We got pushed at the front of the class
But now we running banks pushing fat stacks of cash
It goes
Nerds!
Ears burnin but we never let it catch fire
Stayed calm built a dot com empire
Nerds!
So keep your pride with your face in the dirt
Cause it's no secret that the geek shall inherit the earth
I'm repping nerd rights
Because we're hotter than thermite
Sharper that any pencil
At the start of the term
Might I suggest
That next to any text a nerd writes
That Hollywood gossip whoring
Is boring like a termite
Cause we're the greats
From Shakespeare to Cape Fear
Oscar nom dot com bubbles in your great beer
Engineers need a mention here
For turning tension and stress
Into a professional career
Yeah we've learned to be relentless
So whether you're a chemist
Inventor of medicines
Or a dental hygienist
Apprentice in theoretical dietetics of lettuce
Just get up and represent;
You know the world has got a nerd fetish
So all my geeks in the closet living secretly
I see you sneaking nature docs on the BBC
No time to hide, take pride in our legacy
Cause it's a brand new world; 51 Pegasi
Nerds!
You say we're lame; are you kidding me?
Nerds!
You think great techs can't have great sex?
We study Wikipedia pages and type in LaTeX
Nerds!
Kept you blind, under cover like a peregrine
Sly enough to leave you Hufflepuffin' while we Slytherin
Nerds!
I never got to be fly as a kid
But my vocabulary gave me sick rhymes to spit
I studied science
Grew up to be a rhyme sayer
No Minnesota connection, one of a kind
Say you're pumping iron?
I'm pumping ions through this bilayer
You can't abide this myelin if you try, player
Mind greater than a giant Ghana land snail
Sign "theta" when I'm answering my fan mail
Rhymes get under your skin just like a hang nail
Wits make you dizzy better hold on to the handrail
I know my limits,
So don't you try to limit me
Won't be derivative
Spitting back what you're giving me
What matters is understanding patterns and symmetry
So I'll be integrating your factual data lyrically
OMG so OP These NERDs
Got the ATP to defeat all you NPCs
LCD to your CRT
TNG to your TMZ
ICBM to your TNT
Cause we're explosive like caesium
Bright like burning magnesium
Swallow you like amoebas
Enveloping paramecium
Fighters right in our element
Like a knight in Elysium
When we bridle the elements
Hell we make it look easy hon.
You think it looks easy? Umm.
Well how bout we face off?
Ignoring laboratory procedure?
You'll blow your face off
So keep your He-Man stats in your grey skull
Cause grey matter is power
That's the power of Grayskull
Nerds!
They called us ADHD, made us take pills
Now we're rippin 88 keys, rocking great skills
Nerds!
If you ever took band or theatre
Take a bow to the haters
And say "Calc-u-later!"
Nerd!
You don't appreciate this high tone
Tell me again how you would die without your iPhone
Nerd!
Music, science and art, the trifecta
Kneel before the mighty pocket protector
#science#science meme#science song#nerds#nerds a manifesto#kneal before the might pocket protector#geek#neurodivergent#Youtube
0 notes
Text
I am back stay
So I in fact did not get skinny
Wish I did
I didn’t get into the sororities I wanted. Probably bc I was too fat. The fat ugly girl ones like sem back so I dropped rush. Bc no. I might rush again the spring if I manage to stop eating.
On the bright side
College is hard as hell wtf. I feeel so dumb here. Everyone here comes from private, feeder, boarding schools and I’m like, huh?????? I’m from a public high school where almost everyone stays in state. What sucks more is that everyone here is literally perfect. Everyone is gorgeous, skinny, rich, AND smart. And I’m trying so hard to motivate myself to do good to be better. Last week was such a fucking shit show I went to church today and wanted to cry. I feel so alone. I want to drop out and go back home and be housewife. Butttt I cannot. So I’m procrastinating on my essay while updating my two followers on here lol. I’ve been trying to count calories and eta once a day. But it’s hard. Like if I eat once a day like today or yesterday, it’s a lot. Like I had a burger and fries last night at like 8. Today I had a stuffed tortellini from noodle inc and a caramel latte. Those lattes keep you full though let me tel, you. I’m thinking I cut the caramel out and see how that goes to lessen the calories a little more. Also, I got sick my second week of schools here, I’m typical college fashion, so I stopped going to my barre class, and now work picked up so I’m like fawkkkkk. I need to force myself to find the time to work out. Because I either take a nap or workout and I’ve been napping. But since I’m genuinely so upset about rush, like so sad, I’m going to try to force myself into the habit of working out again. My potential college schedule is like, a nap between y first and second class since I have two hours, then calc review in between. Break after classes are done, workout, back of study after workout. I know I probs won’t stick to it as Perfectly as possible but I will do my best because I’m so tired of being the ugly fat friend. Tell me how my friend literally spilled lemonade in one the houses and got a call back second day but I didn’t and I felt like I truly connected with those girls. Plus, to make it worse it was my favorite house too and she did t really like them that much. So
To end
Stop eating. Be skinny. Be pretty. People will like you more and let you get away with sm more. Tah5 prett6 privilege is so reallll
0 notes
Note
5- "Aww, you’re blushing. I like that look on you.” please!!!! <3
More BadBoy!Alex / Nerd!Michael. Because I live here now.
****
“Aww, you’re blushing,” Michael says, his eyes wide as his mouth turns up in a surprised smile.
Alex quickly ducks his head away, pretending to search for something in his locker so Michael won’t see his face. Or worse, anyone else. God, he’d get so much shit if any of the other kids saw how weak Michael makes him in the knees. Blushing like he’s some freshman girl with her first valentine. But that’s exactly the way Michael makes him feel.
He feels Michael step into his space, feels his body brush up against his back, his hot breath tickling his ear. Alex has to close his eyes and try to compose himself. He thinks of unattractive things. Grandparents in swimwear. Military uniforms. Calc exams.
Except, thinking of calc exams only serves to make him think of Michael these days and how his face lights up when he gets handed a difficult math problem and the sexy way he bites his lips when he’s concentrating. Michael is so easy to watch, mostly because he’s just so oblivious to it. With his nose stuck in a book 95% of the time, Alex can sit and stare at him openly as often as he wants. And now, he doesn't even have to hide it. Because Michael is his boyfriend.
Alex has a boyfriend. This nerdy, adorable, surprisingly sexy nerd is his boyfriend. It’s kind of great. Except when it’s not. Like right now, when Michael’s just done something so incredibly sweet and thoughtful and Alex can’t get a hold of himself.
God, all Michael had done was make him a study guide for his calc test during his free period. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it is. Alex is failing calc right now because Mr. Meyers is a homophobic asshole who can’t teach and refuses to call on Alex anytime he raises his hand with a question (and Michael wonders why Alex doesn’t try in school). And if Alex doesn’t pass this class, he might not graduate. None of which is Michael’s problem. He hasn’t even told Michael any of this because he hasn’t wanted him to worry or feel obligated to tutor him or some shit that isn’t his responsibility. But he’s sure that Isobel must have said something to Michael about it, because she seems like she’s a snitch.
“I like that look on you,” Michael whispers into his ear before stepping back away from Alex, putting at least one whole locker between them. Perfect timing too, because at that exact moment, he hears Kyle’s loud voice coming down the hall. And Alex has been doing his best not to draw Kyle’s attention when he’s around Michael, because if Kyle were ever to do anything directly to Michael, Alex knows that he’d intervene and get himself arrested for real this time. And he might hate Kyle, but he does still respect Jim Valenti enough to avoid having to actually murder his son.
“I wasn’t blushing,” he says, though they both know it’s a blatant lie.
“Sure,” Michael says with a soft smile, hugging his book to his chest while his eyes linger on Alex’s lips.
“I thought you were going to finish reading that…” He searches his mind for the name of the book Michael had been going on about this morning. The book he’d stayed up way too late last night reading, but it had some super technical name on it and Alex only understood about every 5th words Michael had said about it in his tired, nerdy rant. “Whatever it was you were reading.”
Michael shrugs. “I can finish it whenever.”
“Really,” he says slowly, amused. “That why you were up until 3am reading it and you needed 3 cups of coffee this morning?”
“Oh, like you’ve never stayed up too late on a school night before,” Michael says, giving him a knowing look.
“I have, just not for nerdy reason,” he teases, leering at him suggestively even though they both know that Alex isn’t that kind of kid.
Michael lets out a surprised laugh and fondly shoves at his shoulder. “You had a Star Wars marathon last week and were texting me about it at 2 in the morning. That wasn’t nerdy?”
Alex opens his mouth, but finds he fails to come up with a witty retort, so he just changes the subject.
“You didn’t have to make me a study guide,” he says, opening his backpack and carefully sliding the paper Michael gave him with all the notes he would need to pass his calc text into his folder, not wanting to smear the writing, crease the page, or ruin it in some other way. With his luck, Rosa would use it to roll a joint or he’d spill coffee on it or something. “You’re not even in calc.”
And it’s true. He’s not. He took it freshman year. Or maybe he tested out of it freshman year? Alex isn’t sure, all he knows is that Michael hasn’t been in math class with anyone from their grade since sixth grade. He takes some fancy math class down the street at the local community college every Monday and Wednesday night for dual credit.
“I know, but I took it freshman year, so it wasn’t a big deal,” Michael says with a shrug, like casual mentions of his genius aren’t remotely impressive. “It took me like 5 minutes at most once I finally found somebody with a calc book I could borrow and see what concepts you’re getting tested on.”
“It is a big deal,” Alex says as Michael shakes his head as Alex steps into his space. “So thank you.”
The warning bell rings, letting them know they only have one minute left to get to class. And Alex might not care about being on time, but tardiness causes Michael mild panic attacks, so Alex shelves his plans to show Michael just how thankful he is until later. He steps back away as Michael kicks off of the lockers. Alex moves to walk him to his history class, which is conveniently located across from his geography class. Convenient for Michael, because he gets to make sure Alex gets to class. Less convenient for Alex who used to skip that class at least three times a week out of protest. He’s still bitter that they made him repeat sophomore geography in the first place.
“You know, if you want help studying tonight, I can help,” Michael says as they walk down the hall, close enough for their shoulders to occasionally brush against one another, but far enough away to avoid getting yelled at by Mrs. Brickmann, who yelled at them yesterday to “leave room for Jesus.”
“Only if you promise there will be no actual studying involved,” he says.
“Alex,” Michael whines. “You have to pass this class.”
“Why?” he asks, even though he knows exactly why. He needs to pass this class to graduate. And it would be really fucking moritifying if he didn’t get to graduate with everyone else. He doubts his genius boyfriend has any interest in dating a boy with a GED. Not to mention his father might actually murder him for real if he disgraced the family name like that.
“I’ll tell you what,” Michael says, turning around to face Alex as they stop just outside of Alex’s classroom. “One kiss for every problem you correctly solve.”
Alex narrows his eyes, it’s an enticing offer, but if Michael is going to make him do schoolwork outside of school hours, he’s going to push to see just how much Michael will willingly give him.
“Counter offer… One item of clothing for every correct problem I solve.”
“Fine,” Michael says with such a smug smile that Alex knows he’s got some obnoxious plan to show up wearing everything he owns or something.
“No changing clothes,” he says and Michael groans.
“But what if I get cold?” Michael argues, and Alex smirks, because he definitely walked right into that one. Alex steps into his personal space, and his eyes immediately go to Michael’s lips when he licks them.
“That’s what I’m there for,” he says with a wink.
“Manes!” Mr. Thompson, his geography teacher, calls out to him. “Stop harassing Evans and get in here. We’re starting.”
Alex rolls his eyes and Michael starts to protest that Alex isn’t harassing him, but Alex tells him not to bother.
“I’ll pick you up at 5,” Alex promises and then pretends that Michael doesn’t stand there until actually steps into the classroom like he’s still the damn hall monitor and doesn’t trust Alex not to bolt the moment Michael turns his back.
But at least now Alex has something to look forward to this afternoon and an excuse to be anywhere but home.
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bet? [Miya Atsumu x Reader]
Summary: Miya Atsumu never losses a bet. Or: At first he was in it for the sex until he found himself honestly falling for you.
Warnings: smut, virginity loss, plenty of plot to go along with it
A/N: since this is my first nsfw piece, I’m writing about times. Haha. Get it? Anyways. Here we go!
Miya Atsumu, with his suave smile and screaming fangirls, was the last person you’d think to be a college virgin.
His ego was large enough to make up for any of his other shortcomings, boasting the pride of prepping to be a professional athlete as well as a full-time college student. No one doubted that he’d snogged countless fans or taken especially eager girls to back closets for fun, but what seemed to have slipped past them was his dedication to volleyball, always.
So dedicated, he didn’t even have the time for a serious girlfriend.
Miya Atsumu, playboy of the year, was a virgin. But he’d raise all hell if he let anyone around him find out. So when his team went out for dinner after a particularly brutal victory, Atsumu was happy to get in on all the locker room talk. He was sure he could keep up this facade.
Yet somehow, it spiraled into a competition. Although Atsumu had never been one to be invited to sleepovers or highschool parties, far too busy practicing with his team, he imagined it felt something like this.
“So,” one of the wing spikers started. “How old were you all when you lost your virginity?” The men around him laughed it off, ready to tell stories of their (awkward) first times. Each took their turn, wanting to be the youngest or the one with the best tale to tale. And then, all eyes fell on Atsumu.
Atsumu was a great liar, really. But the bar was loud and he felt the eyes of his teammates like ants on his skin and while he was confident in volleyball there was little he knew about this and Atsumu could not bring himself to do anything but sit there and stare aimlessly. The team waited for an answer.
Finally, their starting setter, who had undoubtedly been chosen based on seniority alone, broke out into laughter. “He’s a virgin!” he realized. “Miya Atsumu is a virgin!” The whole table broke out into rancorous laughter. There wasn’t truly anything bad about being a college virgin, a few on the team had admitted to it before Atsumu. But his attitude of control and snarky attitude on the court had everyone waiting to find something just one thing they could tease Miya Atsumu about.
“I could fuck anyone if I wanted to!” was his quick reply, thinking back to all the girls cheering his names in the stands (and the boys who’d give him a slap on the ass to say “good job”). Surely, he could give up his virginity in an instant, if he put his mind to it.
“Oh, yeah?” It was a middle blocker speaking now, one who Atsumu had the (dis)pleasure of sharing a few classes with. “Even that girl in calc...the one who does all the group projects on her own and everything…”
Atsumu knew immediately who he was talking about. Y/N L/N. You were basically a genius, always getting the highest marks and never taking a moment to wait for those around you to catch up. He’d never even spoken to you. But right now, his pride was on the line.
“Pfft,” he forced a chuckle. “Easy.”
The table erupted into booming laughter again, at Atsumu’s declaration, but quickly quieted down as the senior setter leaned forward with a wager. “Then have sex with her,” he smirks. “Before the next game.”
Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “What do I get out of it?” Aside from the loss of his v-card, of course.
“I’ll ask coach to make you the starting setter.” A hush fell on the table as if a ghost had passed through. “But if you lose, you join as a wing spiker.”
Atsumu gulped down his fears. He was never one to back down on a bet. Besides, the only reason he was a virgin still was because of volleyball. Might as well gain something from it.
He pushed his hand forward, shaking the senior setter’s firmly.
“Deal.”
***
“Could you tutor me?”
Miya Atsumu wasn’t stupid. He’d never been in a serious relationship, but he knew if he asked one of his fangirls to sneak off with him they’d do it in a heartbeat. He knew he could probably find at least one girl within a mile radius who wanted to have sex with him and flirt his way to her bed.
But you weren’t just any girl.
As much as he dreaded school, Atsumu was painfully observant of the people around him. He’d noticed you before, in class and occasionally at games. You kept to yourself without anyone to talk to you, but on the occasion, he’d seen you with friends you shined brighter than any of them. It made him breathless.
Still, he knew you wouldn’t be easy. In group projects, you’d always been devilish with your expectations, dishing out jobs to everyone in an instant and critiquing their work for the best results (this quality shamefully reminded Atsumu of himself, but he’d never mentioned it).
Frankly, he was at a loss of how to get to your bed. But he knew he needed to start by talking to you, and that you’d shut down any friendly flirtation he started with. So he did something more direct. He theorized even if you weren’t keen, you were kind enough not to shut him down completely and hopefully that’d be his chance to talk with you more. But what he hadn’t calculated was your response.
“Atsumu, right? What do you need help with?”
Huh?
You hadn’t even hesitated to agree, looking up at him expectantly.
“Uh...deriving complex functions?” He thinks that’s what they’re doing in class.
You place a hand to your chin, nodding as if you were deep in thought. “Yeah, that’s pretty tough,” you agree, thinking. “I’m free after six tonight, meet me at the library?” you ask him directly.
For once in his life, Miya Atsumu is frozen. “Uh, sure?”
“Cool, give me your number in case something comes up,” you said nonchalantly, grabbing your phone. Before he could even process what was happening, he’d put his number in your phone and you were walking away from him, bidding him a friendly “see you later.”
As he watched your figure get smaller, he was reminded of all the cold comments he’d heard about how difficult you were to approach and the nicknames people said behind your back. He stifled a laugh.
Atsumu wondered if they’d even spoke to you.
***
You here?
It was the first thing Atsumu had texted you once he got your number. He didn’t come to the library often, far more concerned with practice than studying, but as he sat to get out his work from earlier he realized it was actually quite calming. Compared to the loud and irritating bar from days earlier, Atsumu was certain he preferred this.
Sorry, was out with friends. Be there in a few!
He grumbled when he saw his phone. Maybe it couldn’t be helped, but you could’ve at least had the decency to text him earlier, right? Slowly Atsumu felt himself spiraling, his bad habit of finding the negative in just about everything sneaking up his back.
But all his qualms were forgotten when you walked through the doors.
He supposed he’d only ever seen you in class and at a few volleyball games. He quicked up quickly that you were a creature of comfort, preferring a pair of loose sweatpants to anything else. Yet you walked through the door fresh from a night out with friends with your hair done up and a pair of flattering slacks clinging to your waist (and a bit further south as well but Atsumu wasn’t ready to mention that, yet).
“Miya?” He was broken from his trance by your voice, which had a playful lilt to it he’d never quite noticed before.
“Just call me Atsumu,” he heard himself saying out of habit. Even without Osamu at his side in college, Atsumu was never really comfortable being called by his family name. It just wasn’t normal. Still, his cheeks flared up as he worried you’d see it as flirtations instead and be scared off.
“I-”
“Sure thing, Atsumu,” you agreed without hesitation. Oh. All of Atsumu’s nerves were on edge. Nothing to worry about, huh? He quite liked how his name sounded on your lips. He could listen to it on repeat for days, probably.
Snapping him out of his trance, you were quick to get to business. Although Atsumu came with ulterior motives, you were an incredible help. Your notes were neat and easy to understand, but whatever he stumbled on you still found ways to re-word so they’d make sense. He could practically feel all the wheels in his head turning when you spoke like he was in the middle of an intense volley trying to figure out what came next.
Actually, you made it kind of fun.
Before he realized, an hour had elapsed and he felt his eyelids drooping. It wasn’t often that Atsumu used his brain that intensely without break, and he could feel his focus starting to waver. But you’d made it so easy to focus, he’d easily lost track of time.
You let out a sigh next to him. “That’s enough for today,” you determined, shutting your notebook. “Seeing as we have a quiz next class, I can meet again to tutor the night before if you’d like? Just keep doing the practice I showed you and we can do some review.” You had everything planned out in your mind already.
Atsumu let his head hit the table in exhaustion. Although normally he’d have a snarky comment for anyone who dared tease him, he let your laughter ease over him like a blanket. It was music to his ears.
“Get better and it won’t be so tiring,” you assured him, patting his shoulder. Before he could agree or disagree with anything you’d asked him, you had one foot out the door. “See you Wednesday at six,” you bid him goodbye (though Atsumu swore it sounded more like an order).
He grumbled against the table once again, quick to back up his notebook. There was still practice, after all.
While Atsumu found himself more tired than usual at practice, having already used his mind plenty, it was enthralling. The quips of his teammates, asking if it was some hot banging that had tired him out, fell on deaf ears. He could only think about how you’d managed to make calculus of all things sound interesting and the smell of your perfume whenever you bent close to him. Sure, your expectations for him were evident but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wondered how anyone could have called you ‘cold.’
***
Your next tutoring session went fairly standard. True to your word, you checked over the review and prepped for your exam the next day. While you harshly pointed out Atsumu’s repeated mistakes, you gave him insightful tips and tricks to help him fix them in the same breath. You were definitely a genius, he determined.
But he’d also realized he was getting nowhere with these tutoring sessions. Your company was surprisingly relaxing in the midst of his long days and he was delighted at the playful jokes you always managed to slip in, but there were no sparks and his next game was drawing nearer. The word wing spiker loomed over his head like a curse.
He had to do something to change this.
“Would you want to grab coffee with me?” he found himself asking as you packed your bag. For a moment you looked at him dumbfounded, trying to figure out if he was serious.
“Are you asking me on a date?” you tease, no fear of misunderstanding the situation. As usual, Atsumu was shaken to his core by your forwardness. He thought he was honest. But he was certain now was the time to back down.
“If I am, would you say yes?” he flirts back, praying you can’t see the sweat dripping down his neck. There was something electric and unnerving about your smile, seemingly unhindered.
“The Miya Atsumu…” you put on a face like you’re deep in thought, but you’re already sure of your answer. “Sure,” you grin. “Text me the details.” Before he even has the chance to celebrate, you’re gone.
The next day, Atsumu got his highest grade on a quiz since grade school (he wasn’t stupid, really, just very average with school). Even when he got stuck on questions, he’d visualize your mechanical pencil (you’d covered it in stickers) gliding across his page and the sound of your voice, explaining each problem patiently and easily. Then, he’d know what to do.
He texted you a thank you with a flurry of emojis, supremely grateful for your help. Soon, he’s pulling on his nicest pair of jeans for his casual date with you, brimming with energy. Atsumu was so excited he could just kiss you.
That is until he was sitting in front of you in the cafe, realizing he’d never talked to you about anything but calculus. And now that he had his breakthrough and secured a date, he was hopeless. He had no idea where to start. So, always quite shallow, he broke the ice by saying what was on his mind.
“Why’d you agree to tutor me?” For a moment, he wonders if you’ll get offended by the question before he’s reminded of all your rude comments about his mathematical prowess. He was certain you had tougher skin than that. “I mean, I sort of asked you out of the blue. Don’t you want money? Food?”
He expects you to take a while to answer since you seem like the person to have calculated reasons behind all your actions, but your answer is almost immediate.
“Is it not enough to just want company?” you wonder, completely unabashed. Atsumu almost blushes for you, before you think for a moment and find you stumbling over your words. It’s the first time he’s heard you sound unsure of yourself and he ingrains the moment of vulnerability into his mind like a movie he’ll play one day. He never wants to forget the sight of your lightly flushed cheeks, eyes scattering to break contact with him.
“W-What I mean is,” you interrupt yourself. “I hear people talk and I know my reputation. I get focused on work and people get scared away...” Atsumu knows that feeling. “I guess I was just over eager that someone would approach me. Is that weird?”
Ah. Atsumu thinks. This is my chance.
He bends forward, his hand brushing against yours, and greets you with a practiced smile. It’s the sort of smirk that is sneaky enough to have any girl squealing, but sincere enough not to scare you away. “Not at all, doll,” he promises, voice like honey.
Mentally, Atsumu congratulates himself for the smooth delivery, sure that he’ll have you in his arms in no time. Instead, you start laughing at him.
“Do not call me that!” you exclaim, tears bursting from the corners of your eyes. “What do you think this is, the 1950s? [Y/N] will do, yeah?” Your hands reach up to wipe your eyes and the entire atmosphere Atsumu worked to create is lost (although secretly, he prefers that honest and straightforward attitude you replace it with) and he’s left staring at you blankly.
“Why’d you ask in the first place?” you wonder, looking sufficiently amused.
Because I want to have sex with you.
Atsumu finds himself attacked by his own thoughts. It’s not that he wants to, of course. It’s just that he was dared to and he can’t lose the bet. But, wouldn’t it be more enjoyable if he wanted to? Of course, he could want to. But he thinks to get there he’d need to be terribly emotionally invested and he’s barely even had a girlfriend and you’re definitely too perfect for him and-
“Atsumu?” You’re smiling up at him, eyebrows raised. “Did I manage to leave you, who never shuts up,” He wants to tell you that you’re wrong but he knows you’re not and you won’t hesitate to remind him of that. “Speechless?”
He can’t let you catch on, Atsumu tells himself. “I’m bad at calculus and you’re good,” he decides is a good lie. Straightforward and true, just like you. “Is that not enough?” You huff, leaning back in your seat.
“Touche.”
Although your date had started off awkward and tense, Atsumu felt the relief of being entirely comfortable talking to you. He got lost in your quick wit and electric eyes, losing track of the conversation and letting himself get immersed entirely in you. Before he knew it, your phone was going off.
“Shit!” you rushed to turn it off. “I’ve got class in ten.” You were quick to grab your bag and head out, and Atsumu felt his stomach drop, wishing he’d said something. Yet just as quickly you were turning on your heal, an unfamiliar shakiness in your voice, as you bent down to plant on Atsumu’s cheek.
“Same time next week?” you asked, eyes sparkling.
Atsumu felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he smiled back at you. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
***
In the blink of an eye, you became a surprisingly regular part of Miya Atsumu’s daily life. He’d sit next to you in calculus and on days you didn’t have calculus he’ get coffee with you. Every day you were there next to him, smiling fearlessly. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to your untouchable reputation, but he’d never hesitated to be beside you.
For two weeks this had gone on, your strange friendship that sprung up out of nowhere raging strong. But Atsumu’s next game was soon and he felt the pressure. Yet he knew, no matter what, he didn’t want to ruin what he had going with you. Maybe, it was even worth being wing spiker for a season.
“Could I come to the match tomorrow?” you asked as you were getting ready to leave one day. Atsumu almost choked on his coffee, not prepared for such a bold question. He wanted to ask you who you were asking him as: a volleyball fan, a friend or… a partner?
He shooed the thought from his head. Although both of you called these coffee outings “dates,” they’d never ended with anything more than him walking you him and a kiss on the cheek outside the door to your apartment. You were far from dating.
“Sure, why not?” he responded, pretending to keep his cool. But would you like him less when you realized he was benched? Why did you even want to go?
“It’s raining,” you moaned, distracted from Atsumu’s response. He looked to your (lovely) legs to see you were wearing shorts and converse, definitely not ideal for this weather.
“I’ll drive you home,” he offered, keen on showing off his new car. He’d already sent you a photo of it, of course (a selfie, actually. He looked quite stunning) but he still wanted to show you in person. Soon, you were next to him in the passenger seat, looking at the road ahead.
You made normal small talk, but Atsumu noticed your hand seemed to be wondering closer to the area between you two. He ignored it.
When you reached your apartment, he walked you in like normal. He waved hello to the person at the security desk, they were familiar with him at this point. Finally, the two of you reached the doormat. It always felt to him like a save point in a game before a boss. He just couldn’t seem to get past it and into your apartment.
But when he noticed you wore a different lip gloss than usual and a new perfume, he thought maybe today could be the day. He swallowed, rolling his shoulders back. He’d make his move for sure. Breathing in, he readied his mind for what he’d say to you, wondering what kind of flirting could make you break.
“Kiss me.”
Huh.
“Atsumu,” you looked up at him, eyes demanding. “Kiss me.”
When he first started talking to you, occasionally you’d say something that caught him so off guard he’d freeze up and have no idea what to do. But kissing wasn’t sex, and Atsumu knew he could win in a battle of the lips. Before you could even fully open your door, he’d close the space between you two.
He didn’t take a moment to question why you asked him, instead silently praying you felt the same pull to him that he did to you. The kiss was desperate and long-awaited. As soon as he was in the apartment you were closing the door behind him and letting him press you up against him.
Desperately, Atsumu wanted to feel all of you. He gripped his hands around your waist and sucked at your lips, begging to be closer to you. It was intense and passionate and everything he’d ever dreamed of.
The two of you were a mess of sweat and pent up tension, but somehow you made it to your bedroom. Your hands searched over Atsumu, wanting to feel the expanse of his toned body and broad shoulders. You could feel him getting excited against you, edging him on by grind against him. More you called out. You wanted to feel more of him, all of him.
And then he froze.
You looked up to him, confused. “Are you okay, Atsumu?” you pulled away from him immediately, scared that you’d set something off. Instead, you reached out to grab his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “We can stop if this is too fast,” you assured him. While you’d been getting impatient waiting for him to make a move, the last thing you wanted was for him to be uncomfortable with you.
“I’m fine,” he promised you, but his eyes said differently. His pupils were blown out and his eyes wide but he looked downright scared. You breathed out, not yet sure how to comfort him. Instead, you took in all the things you knew about him, coolly trying to wonder what could be bothering him.
“Is this going to lead to sex?” he asked you, sitting on your bed with his clothes riled up and his face looking very thoroughly kissed. You wanted to laugh, looking at his swollen red lips and the clueless expression on his face because the answer would be clear to anyone else, but Atsumu kept surprising you. Still, you knew better than to make fun of him. It was very clear he was trusting himself to you.
“If you want it to you,” you answer, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But it doesn’t have to.”
There’s a nervousness in Atsumu’s eyes that you were unfamiliar with. It was different than the frustration that built up when he didn’t understand math, or the shyness he tried to hide whenever he’d flirt with you. It was the realization that if he wanted whatever was between the two of you to go anywhere, he had to come clean now.
“I asked you to tutor me because my seniors on the volleyball team dared me to have sex with you!” he burst, folding in on himself.
For a moment you thought you could feel your heartbreaking because you couldn’t believe you’d let yourself get tricked. But naively, you prayed that maybe his feelings still rang true, reminding yourself of all the coffee dates and late nights studying. That worth more than just a dare, you hoped.
“But I asked you on the coffee date because I like you! I sat next to you in calculus because I like you and I don’t care what people say about you!” Atsumu declared, face burning red.
You knew there was a lot that could get under Miya Atsumu’s skin. You’d been to a few practice volleyball games where he played and seen his short fuse first hand, but still, you found yourself surprised and relieved by his words. Atsumu was, if nothing else, straight forward. Even though he’d had different motives, you knew he still worked hard to get better at calculus. You knew how his face lit up whenever you walked into the cafe and the most common emojis he used when he texted. You had no doubt behind his words now.
“So,” you start teasingly, tracing circles around his shoulder. “Does that make you a virgin?” The way your voice dropped, eyes looking promisingly at Atsumu like he was about to be devoured, had him straining against his pants.
“Yeah,” he admitted, pupils blown out for a whole new reason.
You slid yourself over him, letting your self straddle his hips. Your fingers continued to trace his chest, appreciating all the time he spent training. Excruciatingly slowly, you bent forward to whisper against his ear. “Let’s change that tonight, yeah?”
That was enough for Atsumu.
For a virgin, he was surprisingly dominating while you made out. Atsumu brought his mouth to yours once again, quick to bite at your lips. His hands came up to knead your ass, large and strong. I’ve been waiting to do that, Atsumu thought, picturing your slacks from the first time you tutored him. He always did love to see you walk away.
Soon, he got bored with your lips and found himself peppering kissing across your jawline and traveling across your neck. As he got to the crook between your should and neck he heard your breath hitch. Perfect.
Mercilessly, he nipped and sucked at the spot. As much as you tried to keep down your moans, you felt them bubbling up in your chest.
“You know…” you told him breathlessly. “For someone who’s never had sex you’re awfully good at this.”
Atsumu scoffed in response. “I’m a virgin, not a celibate,” he explained, before going after your neck again. You threw your head back in pleasure, giving him easier access. You wondered what else he could do with his mouth.
His pursuit of learning about your entire body continued, one hand leaving your ass to grope your breasts. He reached his hand up and under your shirt, sending shocks straight to your core as his calloused fingers brushed over your skin. Finally, palm landed on your breast, feeling it enthusiastically. You could hear him sigh as he did it, surely having played this moment over in his mind time after time.
You wanted to enjoy it, really, but there was only so much you could handle. “It’s not a balloon!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.
“Hey, I was busy with that,” Atsumu teased but brought his hand away regardless. He held onto your hips, instead, watching as you rid yourself of your shirt and bra. He watched you with a calculating eye, trying to learn more, to be better.
“Like this,” you told him, dragging his hand to your breast again. You had him pressing feather-light touches to you. “Gentle,” you whispered, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. He took your directions carefully, bringing both of his hands up to take in your chest. He was more careful now, experimenting. He ghosted his thumb over your nipple, watching how your body shivered in response.
Atsumu was completely in tune with your every reaction and quickly understood how sensitive you’d become from this slow grueling pace. All he’d done was play with your nipples, switching between light ghosts of touches and rougher swipes with the pads of his fingers, but he could already feel you grinding against him.
Unable to hold back, he finally broke his concentrated silence, letting a groan out into your shoulder.
“Right,” you noticed, looking down. “You probably want to take care of that?” As if teasing him, you rolled your hips against his bulge again. His grip around your waist tightened.
Atsumu started to protest. “But-”
“No buts!” you cut him off. “I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” you promised, eyes unwavering.
This was even better than his dreams.
“Whatever you say, [Y/N],” he breathed out, letting you get up so your hands could work at his belt.
“Call me doll,” you muttered, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down. Although he was still in his boxers, you went to your own shorts first, pulling them down eagerly.
Atsumu twitched. “What is this,” he drawled. “The 1950s?” It felt good to have the upper hand for once.
“Throw me a bone here, you won’t even take your own clothes off,” you whined, pulling at his shirt. He helped you along the way, getting it over his head. Finally, you pulled his boxers off, letting his erection stand tall and proud for all to see.
You gulped at the sight of it. His length was average, but it was quite girthy with an intimidating tilt to it. How many fingers is that? You wondered.
“Impressive?” Atsumu asked when he noticed your wide eyes. The only people he’d ever really compared himself to were porn stars and his brother so truly he had no idea if he was packing, but he’d let you do the talking tomorrow.
But you were quick to wipe the wonderous expression of your face. “In your dreams,” you bit back, going to grab a condom.
“In your nightstand?” Atsumu said incredulously. You rolled your eyes.
“Where else?”
Touche.
You started to unpack the condom and roll it over his member, eager to get the show on the road, but Atsumu found himself grabbing your wrists. “What about you?” he asked. “I mean…” Atsumu was never one to admit to his shortcomings, but there was something pretty clear here. You had more experience than him. “Don’t you want to feel good, too?”
If your pace was too fast, you’d probably get left high and dry while Atsumu chased his orgasm. “Couldn’t I…” he gestured with his hands, pushing two fingers forward. “Help you out?”
You chuckled. “Love if you’ve never fingered a girl before I’m not becoming your test subject,” you quipped, Atsumu grumbling below you. What was the point if you didn’t both enjoy yourselves? “But…” you traced his jawline. “I can show you how I do it next time. Teach you how I like it?”
Atsumu smirked, pulling you down to the bed with him and rolling over you so he could linger over you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, sweet and so unlike him. “Sounds perfect, doll,” he whispered against your lips.
You gulped. For someone so inexperienced, there was an intensity to his eyes that went unmatched by anyone else. Even when you had been the one guiding him along, you felt his eyes drinking all of you up. He was truly beautiful, leaning over you in all his glory. You could get used to that sight.
“Is…” he cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I put it in?” he asked, reminding you both that he was still unsure of himself.
“Yeah,” you assured, reaching up to grab his hand. “Take it slow.”
He did, Excruciatingly. You felt his tip enter you curiously, already stretching you out so well. Atsumu entered you in a way that you felt every single millimeter. You yearned for him to get closer, to fill you better.
“More,” you whined out.
Atsumu smirked at you, his face screaming I win. “What’s that, doll?” You groaned, rolling your head back. “You wanted me to take it slow?” he taunted.
“Fuck me like you mean it, Atsumu!” you snapped, pushing your hips up to meet his. You sighed at the feeling as he finally bottomed out. But Atsumu didn’t take your challenge lightly, not letting up. He pulled back out of you, only to snap his hips back. You had no time to get used to his size, not with the brutal pace he was setting.
Soon, you were a mess. While you were fairly sure Atsumu was simply his own release, he made you feel so damn good while doing it. His strong hips pushed back into you ruthlessly, hitting you deep and well. Your arms wrapped around his back, nails pressing into his shoulders.
“You like that, doll?” he asked through his own groans. He’d done his best to hold them back, but the feeling of you surrounding every single inch of him was simply too much. You felt too good.
“Yeah baby,” you urged him on. “You’re doing so well. You’re fucking me so well.” Your nails gripped into him, scratching at his back. But it only had him pushing harder into you, feeding into your praise. He was the one wrecking you like this.
Yet Atsumu lost track of his inhibitions and quickly found himself feeling a familiar coil in his stomach. He didn’t want this to end yet. He wanted to feel more of you, all of you. He let out a loud moan, trying to hold back.
“It’s alright,” you assured him. “There’ll be time to do more. Let go.” It angered him that you had the energy to soothe him while he was trying to fuck you silly, but that only encouraged him to push harder. Through your own moans, you found it in you to whisper to him. “Please, Atsumu. Cum for me.”
He couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands grabbed your hips, surely tight enough to leave bruises, and snapped forward, pushing all of himself into you. He came into the condom in hot streams, breathing heavily.
“I’ve never orgasmed like that,” he admitted, finally slipping out of you. You whimpered a bit at the feeling of being empty, before taking the semen-filled condom out of you.
“Ew,” the two of you said in unison, before laughing at one another.
Even though you’d just been thoroughly fucked and he felt like he’d ran a marathon, Atsumu bathed in the feeling of complete trust he had when he was beside you. It was incredible.
“I could sleep for days,” Atsumu sighed, collapsing on your bed. You laughed at him, pulling on a nightshirt.
“Hey, don’t cover the view!” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him. As if he didn’t stare at it long enough to etch it into his mind.
“You have a match tomorrow,” you reminded him. “Gotta laugh in your teammates’ face for that dumbass dare, so you can only sleep for one night.” You snuggled up against Atsumu, letting his warmth wash over the best of you.
You were too tired to really process the surprised in Atsumu’s voice when he agreed with you, too busy drifting off to sleep.
***
The match came without fail. Atsumu didn’t mention anything to his teammates as you gave him a kiss good luck before he entered the gym. You had proudly donned his jersey, ready to support him from the stands. But if that wasn’t enough, the scratch marks all across Atsumu’s back were enough to thoroughly shut up any doubts his teammates had about the night prior.
Atsumu was the setter for the whole game.
#miya atsumu x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#atsumu x reader#haikyuu miya atsumu#haikyuu atsumu x reader#smut#lemon#haikyuu lemon
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
(AoT/SNK) Reluctant Hero: Levi X Abused!Reader
You looked around nervously and pulled your sweater sleeve down farther as you walked into the school building. You didn’t want anyone to see the new bruises on your arms, let alone on your neck. You hoped the turtleneck sweater would hide them. You knew the sweater looked suspicious since it was late spring, borderline early summer, and the temperatures called for lighter clothing, but you really had no choice. You tugged the neck up higher and scurried off to your locker, hoping everyone would ignore you like they normally did.
“Hey ________, what’s with the sweater,” your best friend Max asked, scaring you near shitless, “Isn’t it a little warm?”
“Ah…,” you muttered, panicking slightly, trying to come up with an excuse, “I’m not warm at all! You know me, I’m a fucking ice cube, I’m cold all the time!”
You cringed internally, knowing it sounded like a terrible excuse, but you prayed to whatever god there was out there that she bought it. You breathed a silent sigh of relief when she laughed.
“Yeah, you’re right.” She said, smiling.
You grabbed your books and shoved them into your backpack. You slung it over your shoulder and winced in pain as it hit a particularly nasty bruise on your back.
Max looked at you concerned and asked, “Hey, are you ok?”
You quickly nodded your head and said, “Yeah, I’m fine! I just hurt my back last night trying to move my couch.”
“Why were you moving your couch?” She asked, confused.
You racked your brain for any lie possible and quickly spewed, “I was trying to clean under it.”
She seemed to buy it and you breathed another quiet sigh of relief. You finally bid your friend goodbye and hurried to your first hour class, pre-calculus. You immediately sat in your seat and took your book and notebook out, getting prepared for class. Class began and you wrote down everything your teacher did exactly as she did, but you still didn’t understand it. When you finished the notes, she began to hand back your last test. You got nervous, knowing that you didn’t do very well. When she placed it on your desk, it was upside down, and she gave you a sad look. She continued on down the rows and you sighed, flipping the test over, groaning quietly at the red “f” at the top. Next to it, also written in red letters, was a note that said, ‘See me at the end of class please – Mrs. Palmer’. You sighed again and looked up, only to have your (e/c) eyes lock with steely grey irises.
‘Shit!’ You thought, blushing lightly and looking away from him.
His name was Levi Ackerman, a fellow senior at Shiganshina High, and he was a student aid for Mrs. Palmer first hour. You’d known Levi since you were in fourth grade when he had moved from France to Shiganshina. You were never friends, but he had been in both your fourth and fifth grade classes and several classes after that in middle and high school. You’d learned a little bit about the boy by watching him from afar, but you had never talked to him more than just a passing encounter during class about an assignment. You’d heard from other people that he was a very unpleasant person, but from the few brief encounters you had with him he didn’t seem that bad.
“Alright, that’s all for today,” Mrs. Palmer said, snapping you out of your thoughts, “Either review your test or start on your homework.”
You chewed your lip as you rose from your seat, beginning to walk towards Mrs. Palmer’s desk. You eventually came to a stop before her desk and played with the end of your sweater, dreading what she was going to say.
“________, do you know that you’re failing?” She asked quietly so that only you could hear her.
You swallowed and nodded almost guiltily.
“Why is that?” She continued.
“I just don’t understand the stuff…,” you muttered, looking down, “I write down the notes exactly how you write them, but I just don’t understand how to do it….”
She frowned and said, “That’s what I thought. Would it help if you had a tutor?”
You thought for a moment and nodded. Your teacher nodded as well and motioned someone behind you over. When that someone stopped beside her, you looked at them and resisted the urge to gasp. It was Levi.
“From now on I’m going to have Levi tutor you,” she said, gesturing to the short male with her hand, “He’s amazingly good at math and he’s tutored many students before so I’m sure he can help you.”
You nodded and looked at him shyly.
“Do you have a lunch or a free hour?” He asked, crossing his arms.
“Um, both, actually…,” you said, voice shaky, “I have lunch fourth hour and IA eighth hour.”
“Alright,” he sighed, nodding, “I’ve got lunch fourth hour and I student aid for Mrs. Palmer again eighth hour for pre-calc so were meeting both those times, got it?”
You quickly nodded.
“I’ll find you at lunch, so just sit where you normally do.” He said, picking his bag up from the floor.
You nodded again. The bell rang and he nodded at you before walking past you and leaving the room. You quickly gathered your things and made your way to your AP psychology class. You took your seat next to your best friend and stared off into space.
“Hey,” Max said, snapping her fingers in front of your face, startling you, “Earth to ________! What’s up with you today?”
“Well, I wasn’t feeling the greatest this morning, but then last hour I found out that I’m going to be getting tutored twice a day by Levi Ackerman.” You said, shaking your head.
“Wait, you’re getting tutored by Mr. Forever-Pissed-Off-With-A-Stick-Up-His-Ass?!” Max asked, surprised.
“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes, “He’s not that bad.”
“You’ve never seen him mad then.” Max said, shuddering.
You shook your head and tried to pay attention to your psych teacher.
You grabbed you lunch and sat down at your normal table, across from Max.
“Why are you over there?” She asked.
“Cause I’ve gotta get tutored.” You answered, pulling your book and notebook out, getting ready for number hell.
A minute later, a book and a tray were placed beside yours and a body settled onto the bench next to you.
“Alright brat, you ready for this?” Levi asked, cracking his knuckles.
You flinched at the sound and began to shake.
“U-uh, excuse me…!” You said, jumping up and running from the table, heading towards the bathroom.
Levi watched ________ run off with confused grey eyes. The girl looked terrified. He turned his perplexed orbs to her best friend, hoping she could shed some light on the situation.
“Is she alright?” He asked.
Max sighed and said, “She does that sometimes. She’ll randomly cringe and suddenly run off, most times to the bathroom. I feel like it’s got something to do with hearing or seeing something but I can’t figure it out.”
The girl looked worried about her friend and Levi wanted to figured it out as well. He wondered if it was something he had done or said. He frowned and looked in the direction that ________ had run off and saw that she was coming back.
You quickly pulled yourself together and left the bathroom. You headed back to the table, an embarrassed blush coming to your cheeks as you saw Levi looking at you.
“Sorry,” You said quietly, pulling on your sleeves, “I get these little nauseous spells and I tend to run away when they happen… you know, just in case….”
You hoped the lie sounded believable, because if they didn’t buy it you were in big trouble. Luckily they both nodded and Levi dove right into the tutoring lesson. Mrs. Palmer had given him all the things that you’d need to go over and he luckily started at the beginning. You didn’t get to go through much, but what you did get through you finally understood.
“Alright, so eighth hour, just go to Mrs. Palmer’s room and we’ll pick up where we left off, alright?” Levi said, packing his things up.
You nodded and did the same, shoving you book in your bag. You slung it over your shoulder and flinched again as it came in contact with the same bruise from that morning. What you didn’t know was that it didn’t go unnoticed by both Levi and Max, who shared a worried look.
Eighth hour you headed to Mrs. Palmer’s room, your pre-calc book in hand. It was an odd feeling but you accepted it. When you reached the room, you were relieved to see that Levi was already there.
“Back here,” he said, leading you to a table in the back of the room, “We’ll be going over things back here while she teaches and she’ll probably drop in and check up on us at some point knowing her.”
You giggled slightly, knowing he was right. You sat down and began studying again. Levi really was a good tutor because you were picking the material up really fast now. Soon the bell rang, signaling that you were released from prison. You both let out a breath and began to slowly pack up your stuff.
“Thank you for tutoring me…,” you said softly, causing Levi to pause in his movements, “I know Mrs. Palmer probably asked you to do it, but still, it’s really helping me already so… thanks….”
“Actually,” he said, beginning to put his stuff away again, “I offered to do it.”
“What?!” You said, looking at him in surprise.
“She was grading tests and she started talking about how she was sad about a student not doing well and she started ranting to me, as she often does, and after she was finished, I offered to tutor you.” He said, looking at you.
You blushed lightly and looked back down at your stuff, shoving the last thing in your bag.
“Well, thank you….” You said.
He nodded and you both stood. You excited the classroom and parted ways with a quick goodbye. You stopped by your locker to drop off a few things before leaving the school. You groaned loudly when you reached the door and saw the light sprinkle turn into a downpour. You sighed and were about to accept your fate when a voice sounded from behind you.
“Are you walking home ________?”
You turned around with a start and saw Levi standing there, backpack over one shoulder, umbrella in one hand, and car keys in the other.
You looked back out the door for a second before returning your gaze to the male and answering.
“I have to,” you said, your shoulders slumping slightly, “I don’t have a car….”
He frowned and shook his head.
“I’m not letting you walk home in this kind of weather,” he said, walking up to you, “I may be an asshole, but I'm not that much of an asshole.”
You opened your mouth to argue but a clap of thunder sounded, cutting you off. You flinched at the loud sound and began to shake. You nodded your head, agreeing to letting him drive you home. He walked to the doors, you right behind him, and opened one. He opened the umbrella and stepped outside. He grabbed your backpack and pulled you out and under the umbrella with him, keeping his arm around your shoulders. He led you through the parking lot to his truck and unlocked the doors. He opened the passenger side door and helped you into the truck before closing the door and getting in himself. He tossed the wet umbrella into the backseat and started the truck.
“Where do you live?” He asked.
You swallowed hard and told him where you lived. He looked at you with a strange look in his eyes but began driving anyway. You looked down at your hands shyly. You didn’t want him to know you lived in the really nice neighborhood. When he pulled up to your house, you blushed more. It was really big.
“Um…,” you muttered, looking at him shyly, “Thanks for driving me home Levi….”
“Yeah, anytime.” He said, a strange look in his eyes.
You grabbed your bag and quickly jumped out of the truck, running into your house. You watched through the window as he pulled away and sighed. You trudged up the stairs to your room. You entered the barely furnished room and set your bag down on the floor. You locked your door and sat on your bed, bringing your knees to your chest. You reached over to your bedside table and picked up the framed picture that was set there. You looked at it and felt tears roll down your face. It was a picture of your family from when you were little. Your mother was holding you and your two older brothers were standing beside her, hugging you two, their heads on her shoulders. Your father wasn’t in the picture since he was the one who took it, but it was all for the best since you hated the man. You hated him because he didn’t even want you. He had never wanted you. He’d only wanted sons. The only reason you were born was because your mother wanted you. She loved you with all her heart and you shared the same adoration. But then she was taken from you when you were six. She had been hit crossing the street while she was out shopping one day and died before the paramedics even arrived.
“I miss you mom….” You whispered, letting more tears flow.
Your phone rang and you sniffled, wiping your eyes. You grabbed your (f/c) phone and looked at the caller ID. You saw that it was your older brother Mason and smiled slightly.
“Hi Mason.” You said, voice still shaky.
“________,” he said, sounding concerned, “What’s wrong? You sound off.”
“Nothing. I'm fine, really. I was just looking at the picture of me, you, Joshua, and mom and got a little sad, that’s all.” You said, smiling to yourself.
“Ok, well as long as that’s all that it is. Don’t be afraid to tell me if there is something though. Cause I’ll cut a bitch, and you know it.” He said.
You giggled and said, “Yeah, I know.”
He chuckled and said, “So how’ve you been little one?”
“Holding on.”
“School kicking your ass?”
“Yeah….” You trailed off a bit.
Your brother laughed and asked a few more questions before ending the call. It was hard having twin older brothers who were ten years older than you. You had a great relationship with them but they didn’t know what was happening with your father.
“________!”
Speaking of your father….
You flinched at the yell you heard and knew you’d be getting a few new bruises.
It’d been two weeks since Levi started tutoring you and since you got a few pretty new bruises on your back, arms, and neck from him. It was beginning to get too warm for long sleeve sweaters, so you were wearing a tank top under and light hoodie, trying to hide as much of the bruising as possible. Levi also started driving you home every day, insisting that you shouldn’t have to walk if he could drive you. When you got into the truck, you dropped your phone, so you leaned over to grab it. You weren’t careful when you leaned though, and Levi got an eyeful of bruising on your neck and chest.
“Shit ________,” he said, staring at you, wide eyed, “What happened to you?!”
You looked at him confused before realizing what had happened. You blushed and pulled you hoodie around you tighter, trying to cover the bruising. You began to shake, fear coursing through your veins at what was to come.
“________, did someone hurt you?” Levi asked softly, startling you.
You’d never heard Levi use that tone of voice before. It almost sounded like he was talking to a frightened small animal. Which, in some respects, was what he was doing, but still. You swallowed hard and stared at him, (e/c) locked with steel. You contemplated telling him or not. No one knew what was going on, not even Max.
“________...,” Levi’s soft voice brought your full attention back to him, “Please, tell me what’s going on….”
You broke. Tears began to form in your eyes and chocked sobs began to escape your throat against your will. Levi quickly, but gently, pulled you against him and let you sob into his chest. After some time had passed, you finally calmed down enough to speak.
“My father….” You whispered, voice hoarse.
“What?!” Levi uttered, shocked.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and rested your head against his chest before elaborating.
“My father has been abusing me since I was six,” you said, sniffling, “It wasn’t as bad when I was little because my brothers were still at home so he couldn’t really do much, but then they went to college when I was eight. That’s when it started to get bad.”
“Why would he do this to you?” Levi asked.
You smiled bitter sweetly and said, “He never wanted me. He only wanted sons, but my mother wanted me. But she died when I was six, so I lost my only real protection. Then when my brothers left, I was left completely defenseless.”
Levi was quiet and you looked up at him. His jaw was clenched and he looked angry.
“Levi…?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his chest.
He looked down at you and said, “When would your dad be home?”
You were confused but answered him anyway.
“He won’t be home until later… why?” You said.
“Because you’re going to go grab a bag of your stuff, and then you’re coming to live with me,” he said, his arms tightening around you, “No arguments. I'm not going to let that bastard hurt you anymore.”
You stared at him with wide (e/c) irises and he suddenly began to blur. You burred your face in his chest and began to cry again.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered into your (h/c) hair, “I promise….”
“Thank you…!” You cried, nuzzling into his chest.
You sat there for a little while longer before heading to your house. You threw what little belongings you had into a bag and left with Levi. He drove you to his apartment and he settled you into the spare room he had.
“Why do you live alone?” You asked, looking at him as you sat on the couch.
“My parents decided that they wanted to go back to France, but I didn’t want to leave,” he said, bring one knee up to his chest, “I was already eighteen at the time so they decided to get me an apartment so I could finish out high school and figure out what I want to do with my life.”
You looked at him and thought he looked a bit sad. You smiled faintly and leaned your head on his shoulder. He rested his on top of yours and you just sat there in a comfortable silence until you both decided it was time to turn in for the night.
“If you need me for what ever reason, just come in,” he said, leaning on the doorframe to his room, “Chances are, I might still be awake. I don’t sleep very well most nights so it won’t be any trouble.”
You nodded and smiled at him before going into your own room. You changed into your pajamas and crawled into bed. You closed your eyes and were able to fall asleep fairly quickly.
Your eyes shot open and you sat up in bad, your breathing ragged. You took a shaky deep breath and closed your eyes, only to gasp and quickly open them. All you saw was his face when you closed your eyes. You took another deep breath before getting out of bed and heading across the hall. You quietly opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind you as quietly as possible.
“________?” Levi asked, sitting up slightly.
It looked like he had been awake, so you didn’t feel that bad about coming to him. You walked over to his bed and sat on the edge. He sat up all the way and put a hand on your shoulder. As soon as he did, you lunged at him and buried you face in his neck, your body shaking from the fear.
“Nightmare?” He asked softly, stroking your slightly messy hair.
You nodded and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable. He pulled you down to lay beside him and cuddled your shaking body against his, trying to take your fear away. No matter what he did however, your body wouldn’t stop trembling. So he gently took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted your face upwards to face him.
“I told you that I would protect you didn’t I?” He whispered, slowly leaning closer.
When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance between your lips and kissed you. You kissed him back after the initial shock wore off. He pulled back after a few seconds and rested his forehead against yours.
“That felt good….” He muttered, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips, tickling yours.
“Yeah….” You breathed your agreement.
“Be my girl?” He asked quietly.
You smiled and kissed him again.
“I don’t think it’s even a question….” You said, kissing him again.
He chuckled and nipped your lip, kissing you deeper this time. He was defiantly not letting anything or anyone hurt you now.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Joshua ____(l/n)____?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. First let me get your brother on the line as well.”
“Hello?”
“Mason ____(l/n)____?”
“Yes?”
“Ok, good. Now that I have you both, my name is Levi Ackerman. I'm your sister’s boyfriend. We recently got together, she hasn’t been hiding it from you. But that’s beside the point. The reason I called you both is because I need your help. ________ is currently living with me because your father has been abusing her. I have pictures of the bruises he left even.”
“He what?!”
“That bastard! I knew something was wrong when I’d call and she’d be crying!”
“Like I said, I need your help. I know it’s short notice, but if you could make it out here within the next few days, I want to get him where he belongs.”
“I’ll be on the next flight there.”
“I’m in the car in an hour.”
“See you soon.”
You heard a knock on the door and got up to answer it.
“Joshua, Mason?!” You exclaimed, extremely confused.
They both enveloped you in a hug together, confusing you even further.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, hugging them back.
“I called them.” Levi said from behind you.
“What?” You were now completely confused.
“We’re putting that basted where he belongs,” Mason said, clearly upset, “Why did you never tell us?!”
Your eyes widened and you turned to Levi.
“You told them?!” You asked.
He nodded and said, “I need their help to put him where he belongs to make sure you’re truly safe.”
You sighed and sat down on the couch. You listened to them plan and scheme about how to get your father arrested. You rolled your eyes and finally spoke up.
“How about we just go file a report with the police,” you said, looking at them, “We’ve got plenty of pictures of the bruises and I’ve got some scars I can show them.”
They looked at each other and seemed to agree. So they took you down to the station and you did just that. And they arrested your father. You wouldn’t have to deal with him for a very, very long time.
It’s been a few months since all the excitement of getting your father arrested. You and Levi graduated along with your friends. And speaking of your friends, you and Levi set up Max and one of Levi’s friends Mike, so they were having their own summer adventure. But as for you and Levi, you were traveling around Europe together for the summer. And in the fall, you’d both be starting at a university in France.
“Oi, brat, why are you staring out the window?” Levi asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You looked at him and smiled. You went over to him and startled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Because I had some stuff on my mind,” you said, kissing his neck, “But, I think I know something else that’s on my mind now.”
Levi smirked and flipped you over so he was hovering over you.
“Great idea.” He said, nipping at your neck, trailing his tongue lower.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled.
“I love you ________....” Levi murmured against your chest, placing a kiss to your heart.
“I love you too Levi….”
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
two of us
synopsis: love is hard to come by, especially when the boy you’ve been pining over is already taken.
pairing: reader x jisung
genre: fluff, angst, romance, college au
warning: explicit language/cursing
wc: 2.8k
one
It was halfway through your senior year in high school when you two had met. This was unexpected to say the least because it was the last semester of your last year; you had no intentions of making any new friends, considering you already had a handful of people you were close with and stuck by for the last three years. It was Chan that introduced you to him. You had known Chan for awhile–he was your lab partner for two consecutive years now–and although you considered him as a friend, you had never actually hung out outside of school before, unless it was for a group project of course. However, one day he had invited you to his birthday celebration and that was the day when you met his other friends, one of them being Jisung.
“Woah, slow down there.” His word caught you by surprise as you were stuffing cupcakes in your mouth. You didn’t really know any of Chan’s friends at the time and socializing with new people didn’t exactly come by easily for you, so you had opted to linger around the snack table instead.
Hastily dusting the crumbs off your face, you introduced yourself, “Oh, hey. My name is y/n.”
“I’m Jisung. I think we have calculus together right?” You looked at him closely; with black hair, deep brown eyes, and round cheeks you couldn’t lie–he was pretty cute, but you shook your head in response as you didn’t recognize him.
“Ya, Jisung! Come help me set up the cake!” Another one of the boys had called out, cutting your conversation with him short.
“Keep an eye out for me in calc.” He said as he was dragged away into the kitchen.
two
Sure enough, he was in the same math class as you. Honestly, besides your best friend in that period, you really didn’t pay attention to the other people. After all, the class was impacted and half of them were underclassmen so why bother remembering all the names and faces?
It was the day after the party and you looked around at everyone in the class; it only took you a moment before you spotted him in a seat two rows over. The lecture hadn’t started yet so he was talking to his friends. You didn’t feel the need to get up to go over and spark a conversation or anything, but when you two made eye contact, you gave him a quick smile before turning back to face the front board.
For a while, you two would occasionally spare glances at each other and wave or smile if you locked eyes, but there was nothing more. It wasn’t until after the latest exam when he approached you again.
“Hey, how’d you think you did?” He asked, waiting as you finished packing up your belongings.
“Could’ve done better. What about you?” You made your way to the door and he followed suit.
“Just hoping for that passing grade. Anyway, Chan and I were going to meet up to grab food after class today, wanna come?” You debated going with them for a second but ended up agreeing anyways.
You didn’t know what to make of Jisung at first, considering you had only exchanged a few words, but after hanging with him, even if it was just for a few hours, you found him to be quite likable.
From then on, he stuck around and you didn’t mind, in fact, perhaps you enjoyed his presence a lot more than you were willing to admit.
three
High school came and went but you were ready to face the new challenges and opportunities that college presented. Most of your other friends had been accepted to places further away, but you had settled for community for the time being. For the most part, you were an independent person; therefore, you tried to not be clingy when your friends left to reach their own goals–you’d see them soon enough again–but you had been worried about starting this whole new chapter of your life alone, luckily for you, someone by the name of Han Jisung had enrolled right alongside you.
As days went by, you two were seen together more and more. Of course he met new people, and so did you, but it was always nice to have someone familiar to go back to and for you, that familiar face was Jisung, and for him, that person was you.
Your majors were completely different and so were your classes, but you still spent time with him studying, ranting about professors, and passing out in each other’s rooms after staying up to finish assignments.
“Hey, Jisung,” you whispered, trying to not startle him awake, “it’s almost midnight. You should probably head back to your place before it gets too late.” He was slumped over your desk, fingers lifelessly placed atop the keyboard of his laptop, already drifting into a deeper state of sleep. “Jisung.” You tried again, only to have him groan in response. Shaking your head, you draped a throw blanket over his figure before returning to your workload.
It had gone on like this for weeks, months, nearly a year. One night he’d sleep over at your place and the next you’d be at his. Both of you had been accustomed to this routine now and you thought nothing of it, however, the more time you spent with him, the more you found things to like about him, and that’s what you were afraid of in the beginning–falling for him.
four
You were never the type to fall head over heels for anyone, all throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you only had occasional crushes but nothing significant. Yet,
there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was the way he always made stupid jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, or perhaps it was the way he played his guitar and share the new songs he wrote with you first before anyone else got to hear them. It was the smile that reached his eyes and the way he knew you so well, like the back of his hand. It was everything.
You didn’t expect anything more out of the platonic relationship, but you couldn’t just get rid of the feelings on demand, so you had to let them settle and hope that they’d go away eventually, of course that didn’t work.
five
Just because you saw Jisung differently, didn’t mean he would have the same outlook on you.
“What do you think would make a good first date?” Jisung had asked casually over the counter. You were currently on shift at the local boba shop and Jisung often tagged along; typically he just sat there and did his homework as he waited, but on days where store traffic was low, he would ease your boredom by talking aimlessly. This particular caught you off guard though.
“Um, I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” You said, trying to sound casual, while restocking the ingredients.
“Well, I finally managed to receive a ‘yes’ after I asked someone out earlier today.” He said, smiling to himself in satisfaction. You were shocked, but at the same time, not at all. During the twelve months or so that you’ve known him, relationships weren’t a common topic of discussion. Yes, it did come up a few times but college and just life in general was already too time consuming so you didn’t bother with relationships, and neither did he.
“Wow, I’m impressed Jisung. I didn’t think anyone would fall for a clown like you.” You teased him, hoping your disappointment wasn’t showing. You knew that it was a platonic relationship and had set no expectations, yet you still felt a wave of sadness wash over.
“Oh, haha. Seriously though, I only prepared on how to ask them out, but I didn’t think past that because I wasn’t sure I’d even make it this far.”
“In that case, why don’t you consider what the person likes and try to set up something that you both would enjoy? Personally, I don’t think you could go wrong with arcade, pizza, and boba though. I could even hook you up with a discount on the boba.” You said jokingly in an attempt to lift your mood up.
“What would I do without you? You better keep your word about that discount though. Oh shit, I gotta head back and finish my essay, see ya y/n. Also, text me when you get back to your place!” He shouted the last part as he was in the midst of exiting and the door jingled as it shut behind him.
six
So his date had gone well and now his status went from ‘single’ to ‘taken’ while you were still struggling to manage your unrequited feelings. You had accepted the situation for what it was but that didn’t make it any easier.
Naturally as he began to split his time between his new relationship and you, the time you spent with him dwindled down. Weekly study sessions became bi-weekly, which turned into monthly events. You didn’t hold this against him though, you were glad he found someone to connect with.
“Hey, sorry I’m late… again.” Jisung said sheepishly as he entered your room, with a backpack slung over his shoulders, messy hair, and pink marks peeking out from under his t-shirt. You were flustered at the sight, knowing that he had just come back from being with his significant other, doing who knows what.
“Uh, it’s okay. Just–let’s just get to studying.” You preoccupied yourself with your various notes and textbooks and tried you best not to be distracted. Suddenly, somewhere along the line, tension began to build. Maybe you were just imagining it but something had shifted between you and Jisung these days, and it gave you a sense of hopelessness because there was nothing you could do about it.
seven
More time had passed and your friendship was still afloat, but it definitely wasn’t the same as before. It seems like everything has its peak and you two have surpassed that; what goes up must come down, so it was all downhill from there.
As his relationship became more unstable and doubts, he slowly began to make his way back to you. You should’ve been happy, even elated at this fact, but you weren’t.
“I don’t know what happened. One minute we were fine and the next we were arguing. It’s like I am dating a different person now.” He expressed to you, once again at the boba shop you were still working at. It had actually been awhile since he came.
“Mmhhm.” You nodded wordlessly as you continued to spray down the tables with disinfectants.
“The argument was so petty, I should’ve known better than to engage in it.” The rant continued on and on and you had mindlessly agreed with everything he said, until he noticed you weren’t even paying attention.
“Y/n, are you even listening to me?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, then will you give me your entire life savings?”
“Yes.”
“Y/n!” He shouted, getting up from his seat to stand directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. His loud voice startled you and you looked up, only to face a boy who was seething in anger. “Why are you blatantly ignoring me? I’m trying to rant to you and you’re not even helping.”
That was the last straw.
“Listen, don’t come in here asking me to be your guidance counselor after cancelling our plans on dozens of occasions. Also, how could you really expect me to give you my time when you can’t even spare me a minute on any other day. You’ve been a real jerk lately and you haven’t even noticed it! I can’t believe I ever liked someone like you!” The indirect confession left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and he stood there absolutely dumbfounded.
eight
That night, you immediately wanted to hide in the back of the store and hope whatever happened never happened, but you were tired of miscommunication.
“You like me?” Between the two of you, he was the one who had the courage to break the silence.
“Liked. I liked you. Past tense.”
“Do you still like me? Present tense.”
“No, I don’t–or maybe. I don’t know right now.” You had mentally convinced yourself that you were over him, but trying to admit it out loud proved otherwise.
“Y/n, I–” He started but you cut him off before he could finish.
“Maybe you should just go home now. I need some time to think.” He had hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he respected your wishes.
nine
It had been over a week, nearing two weeks, since you’ve talked to him. You already had so much on your plate with finals coming around and constantly having to work, so this was not something you wanted to deal with now, or ever actually. But closure was necessary, for you and for him, so you decided that once finals were over, you’d set things straight.
Grabbing the phone off your nightstand, scrolled through your contacts to find his name.
(11:57 PM )
[ you ] hey, we should talk after finals r over
You sent the text, hoping he’d want closure as well, but minutes passed there was no response. Just when you were about to sleep, your phone vibrated.
(12:05 AM)
[ jisung ] okay, see u after finals then. gn
ten
You had just gotten out of your last class of the day when he came into view. Frankly, you hadn’t expected to meet up with him until later on in the day, but that was your own mistake for not specifying when or where to meet in the text. Although this had slightly caught you off guard, you couldn’t put this off forever so you made your way towards him.
It was a relatively cold day; he stood there bundled up in his hoodie and a beanie atop which tamed his hair from the strong winds.
“Hey.” You said as you stood face to face with him.
“Hey, it’s been awhile.” He responded, eyes softening when he saw you.
* * *
Together, you ended up walking back to his place to talk. Nothing much was said during the trip back, besides the occasional polite small talk like “how have you been?” and “how were finals?”
When he opened his door, you entered wearily; although you had visited his place numerous times in the past, the last time you actually came by was months ago so it felt odd to be back to place so familiar, yet foreign again.
You were grateful for the fact that it was so warm in his apartment because the weather outside had left your body feeling numb.
“Here, I know you get cold easily.” Jisung handed you an extra sweater he pulled from his closet and you thanked him before sliding it over your shoulders.
The both of you just stood in his living room, no one knew what to say or how to start the conversation, but you were here now so it was time to say everything you’ve felt. With a deep breath, you began.
“I thought I could let go of my feelings for you, but I couldn’t.” You said, focusing on the floor as you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “And I’m sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable or jeopardizes whatever is left of our friendship, but I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. If you don’t like me, then I’ll have to accept it and move on but I just had to let you kn-”
Your spiel came to an abrupt stop when he drew you into his arms. Not knowing how to react, you were frozen from confusion and shock.
“Y/n, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He held you at arms length and gently titled your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “If I had known you liked me, I would’ve never looked at anyone else.”
His words were forming incoherent sentences in your head. Was this his confession? Did he feel the same way?
He must’ve sensed your puzzlement because he smiled at you and said, “Yes dummy, I like you too.”
Your immediate response was to smile, but then something dawned on you.
“What about your current relationship?”
“I’m no longer in a relationship. We have been broken up for nearly a month now.”
“So what does that mean for us?” You say, almost too optimistically. And his response was to pull you in close, so close to the point where you could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks and your noses were barely touching, before closing the gap between your lips and his.
a/n: honestly, this piece is kind of all over the place since it’s my first one but hopefully more practice will make my writing better! also, this is not proofread so my apologies for any grammatical/punctuation errors.
also here it my masterlist in case you want to read my other works!
#skz au#stray kids au#stray kids masterlist#skz masterlist#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids oneshot#jisung x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#han x reader#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#skz angst#stray kids angst#stray kids fluff#skz fluff
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4
New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.
Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3
TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut
Word count: 1685
Chapter 4 - Forgotten
A little piece of paper with a picture drawn
Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone
And the memory now is like the picture was then
When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again
It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.
He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.
When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.
Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.
He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.
"Lorcan?"
Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."
"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?
He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.
"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.
"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.
Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.
++++
It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?
She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.
As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.
Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.
Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.
The bell rang.
---
He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.
"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.
Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.
She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.
---
He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.
Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.
Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.
He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.
Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.
Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.
There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.
"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.
Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.
Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.
"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.
Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.
"Can I?"
"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.
By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?
As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?
Fuck.
++++
"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.
Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.
But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.
He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.
For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.
Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.
____
Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.
@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire
#rowcan fanfic#rowcan#rowan x lorcan#rowan whitethorn#lorcan salvaterre#heavy battle symphony#crackship
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
t... tiara thief + “have you been waiting up this whole time?”
fandom: knight squad
relationships: arc/ciara, pre-relationship
word count: 1,482
a/n: okay, first of all, i want to thank you for this prompt because it single-handedly pulled me out of the writer’s block i’ve been suffering for months. i haven’t completed something in a hot minute, so despite the fact that i wrote this all in one go while i was supposed to be studying for my calc test tomorrow and reading it over once was the extent of my editing so it’s probably Not Very Good, writing it made me incredibly happy. it’s so fluffy and i love writing their dynamic and just,, it’s such a great prompt for them and i hope you guys like it!
dedications: tagging my dearest fellow tiara thief stans: @ciara-knightly@perhapspearl @mistyskiesrambles @willexs @taylorswiftrulestheworld @onplanetmars @neshatriumphs @zackmartin @knghtsquad @soni-dragon @hopefulbeautifulfool @cactus-con @waterisntreal @bitchmilsky
summary: In the morning, she’ll chalk it up to the fact that she’s not thinking straight. She’s too tired to think about the implications of it, too out of it to actually use her better judgement. And too lonely. She’s been Princess Angelica for days—she wants to be Ciara for a night. She misses Arc, misses having his steady presence by her side, familiar and constant and unconditional. She just wants him to stay.
It’s late by the time Ciara makes it back. The castle is still and dark and dead-quiet as she approaches her bedroom, heels dangling from one hand and the skirts of her dress pulled up in the other, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion.
It’s not the muscle-aching, satisfying sort of tired that always comes after a long day of training or a successful mission, though—it’s the kind of weariness that’s accompanied by flashes of irritation and leaves her feeling more than a little drained. Not for the first time, the itch of resentment towards her Princess duties crawls under her skin. She should’ve spent the last few days on a daring quest with her squad, not faking smiles through ball after ball. But it’s the height of trade season; they have appearances to keep and responsibilities to fulfill. There’s a whole mess of politics involved that she’s slowly familiarizing herself with, getting comfortable with her position. And yet she misses the tension of her bow, the adrenaline rush of a fight, the thrill of a good adventure—and she misses her team.
They should be back by now. She was supposed to meet them in the training yard tonight, but the party ran long and she couldn’t pull herself away, so she’d had to cancel at the last minute. They’re meeting at the Tasty Trunk first thing in the morning to catch up over breakfast, but still, she’s half-tempted to take her passageway into the squad room and see them right now.
But it’s late, and they’ve just gotten back—they’ll all be asleep.
Ciara huffs a minute sigh and pushes open her door. She should get some rest, anyway, so she’ll be ready for training in the morning with a slew of excuses about her miraculous recovery from an illness that didn’t really exist. When she sees her bed, another wave of tiredness hits her full-force; she’s almost ready to throw herself under the covers without even changing out of her gown.
Except she can’t. Because there’s a figure slumped in the armchair by the balcony.
Her hand goes instinctively to her side, before realizing that she’s not in her gear and therefore doesn’t have a weapon. Mind whirring, she weighs the risk of transforming in front of this person—but after a moment, she realizes that they haven’t moved. She shuffles her feet to get a better angle, and moonlight spills over a head of blonde hair, rumpled clothes, and a dark green shoulder pad.
“Arc?” Ciara hisses.
“Wh—” He jerks awake, falling right out of the chair. His sword is still sheathed, but it hits the floor with a clang, and the sound rings through the room and makes her wince. His head jolts around before his wide eyes land on her. “Ciara! Hey, hi! Fancy seeing you h—here,” he finishes around a yawn, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“You’re in my room,” she says pointedly. There’s a part of her that thinks she should be annoyed, that she’s tired, and he scared her, and the noise probably woke half the castle, but in truth she’s just happy that he’s here. She would never say it out loud, but seeing him makes something in her chest swell.
“Hmmf...touche.” He smacks his lips, clearly still half-asleep even after being startled, and Ciara registers that he’s streaked with dirt and dressed in his gear.
“When did you get back?” she asks as he pulls himself into a sitting position and redoes the top few buttons of his shirt.
“A few hours ago.”
“Have you been waiting up this whole time?”
Arc rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, and the gesture is so painfully endearing that Ciara feels herself melt a little, a rush of fondness surging through her. “We were s’pposed to meet up in the training yard,” he says, and yawns again.
“I sent you a mirror message that I couldn’t make it.”
“Well, yeah, but I had to come chew you out in person for bailing on us.” He pouts, nothing serious behind his words, and Ciara finds herself lifting a hand to hide her giggle.
“Oh, yeah? Chew away.”
He fixates her with his drowsy eyes and says, with the utmost sincerity, “You suck. And—and I hope you find dragon dung in your pillow.”
She laughs openly now, the happiness and easy comfort of seeing him pushing away every negative emotion from the night. “Just say you missed me,” she grins teasingly.
“I did not.”
“Mhm.”
“I hope—I hope Sage covers you in unicorn poop again. I hope someone steals all of your tiaras, even the sparkliest one. I hope your snack catapult breaks.”
She gasps. “Take that back!”
“No. You deserve it.” He gives a little self-satisfied smirk, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s obvious that he’s just about ready to pass out again, and as Ciara tries and fails to stifle a yawn she remembers that she’s not that far off either. She moves to nudge him with her foot.
“C’mon, get up.”
He groans and swats blindly at her. “I can’t. I’ve lost that ability. Also, my back hurts. Your chair is not as comfortable as it looks—false advertising.”
“I didn’t ask you to sleep there,” she snorts, kicking him again.
Arc blinks his eyes open at last and lifts a hand into the air, looking up at her expectantly. She rolls her eyes and takes it, hauling him off the floor. “Idiot,” she grumbles, though she can’t keep the affection out of it.
“Your idiot,” he responds without missing a beat. Distantly, she thinks that she’s going to wonder over that line again and again when she’s not so sleep-deprived. In the moment, though, it just feels right.
“M’kay, I am going to bed,” Arc announces blearily, and starts making his way to her passageway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You don’t have to go,” she says, and then bites her lip. Maybe if she had an ounce of impulse control left over, she would’ve stopped herself, but she doesn’t.
He stops in his tracks and turns to her. “No offense, but I think the beds in the squad room are more comfortable than your floor, if only by a little—”
In the morning, she’ll chalk it up to the fact that she’s not thinking straight. She’s too tired to think about the implications of it, too out of it to actually use her better judgement. And too lonely. She’s been Princess Angelica for days—she wants to be Ciara for a night. She misses Arc, misses having his steady presence by her side, familiar and constant and unconditional. She just wants him to stay. The words stumble out: “My bed’s big enough for both of us.”
He blinks at her. Tilts his head, like he’s trying to tell if she’s serious or not. He opens his mouth and then closes it, rubs at the inside of his eye with his fist, and then says finally, “Are you sure?”
She shrugs. “As long as you’re out by morning, or my dad will flay you alive.”
“I’m not afraid of your dad.”
“He’ll call my sister.”
He winces. “Okay, her, I’m scared of.”
Ciara laughs a little and holds her hand out to him, palm-up, and he slips his fingers between hers and lets her tug him towards her bed. He strips off his vest and his shoulder pad and sheath, and she takes the tiara off her head and lets her hair loose from its updo. She doesn’t have the energy to change out of her dress right now, just aches for the warmth of her covers and the softness of her pillow.
When she turns back around, Arc is staring at her. There’s exhaustion still worked into the corners of his face, but there’s something else, too—a sort of softness behind his eyes, a little burst of affection.
She smiles to herself and crawls into bed, burrowing into the sheets. “C’mon,” she tells him quietly, patting the empty space beside her, and he hesitates for a moment before nestling into place.
His whole body goes limp almost instantly. “I’m going back to my thieving ways for one last heist,” he mumbles, muffled by her pillow. “I’m stealing your bed.”
“Not allowed.” He’s warm and soft beside her. She presses close to his shoulder, her eyes slipping closed. “You smell like sewage,” she hums.
“Fought a troll.”
“Did you win?”
“Duh.” His breathing slows, and she matches its pace without thinking about it. She feels light and safe and floating, and she’s barely half-awake when his quiet voice breaks through her haze again. “Ciara?”
“Hm?”
“I did miss you.”
She nuzzles into his chest, warmth flooding through her at the knowledge that she’ll wake up next to him. Even as she’s drifting out of consciousness, she feels herself smile. “I know.”
#me? finishing a fic? it's more likely than any of us thought!#knight squad#tiara thief#otp: you’re gonna have to trust me#arc#ciara#knight squad fic#request fic#writing#my writing#//umanawrites
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
give it a chance ⤖ lee minho
❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au
❖ word count : 9,6k.
❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol
❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.
❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤
one.
It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.
“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up.
Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.
“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”
Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”
“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”
Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.”
“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink.
“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor.
Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years.
In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend.
“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”
Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates.
Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”
“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One.
Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night.
“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”
“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this.
Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy.
“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”
“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends.
Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit.
Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”
“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”
“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down.
“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”
“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa.
“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends.
two.
“Your boyfriend is late.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed.
Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”
“I’m not fucking sad!”
“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.
You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what?
Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract.
Are you sad about that?
Yeah, kinda.
The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it.
Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time.
Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, “Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”
“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”
She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.
“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”
Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”
You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”
“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”
“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”
Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since.
“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.
“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.
She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”
“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”
She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.
“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.
It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece.
Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.
[10:38 AM]
lino | hey you still on campus?
three.
The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning.
“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.
Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.
This is not healthy.
“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”
Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time.
“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him.
You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time.
Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire.
“Don’t you think that this is weird?”
“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here.
You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this.
“Hmm, what about it?”
“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much.
He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life.
“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.
“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle.
You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”
“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”
“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms.
Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way.
You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him.
four.
You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight.
“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine.
Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.”
You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”
“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that.
You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung.
“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person.
“What are you even? Four?”
He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”
“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”
“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway.
“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood.
“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that.
Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether.
“Can you go any fucking slower?”
“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.”
Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt.
“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.
Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.”
“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.”
The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway.
“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?
Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions.
You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—
“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is.
Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying.
You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while?
“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.”
Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle.
“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend.
Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.”
“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“
“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?”
That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world.
Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”
Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits.
“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic.
“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”
You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”
And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content.
“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further.
He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”
“I blame gravity for that.”
“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”
“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber.
Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten.
Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.
If only it were that easy.
“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?
“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”
It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn.
five.
“Y/N you ass, give it back!
“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink.
Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red.
“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason.
Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly.
“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour.
Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable.
“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard.
“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?
You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk.
A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body.
“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense.
The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?
No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.
“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.”
“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”
You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”
“Well, what else can they like about him?”
“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”
Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”
Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight.
Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants.
“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”
“I told you—”
“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself.
Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.
You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing.
“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”
“Huh where—“
Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer.
“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here.
When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in.
‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to.
“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”
Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.”
“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”
“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”
You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students.
You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready.
six.
Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long.
The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet.
The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you.
This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed.
“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb.
The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them.
“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”
You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary.
“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?”
Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.
He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon.
Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?
“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly.
“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”
“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care.
Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”
Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”
“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward.
“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”
You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”
“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”
“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“
Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”
You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”
Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.
“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”
“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”
“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.
Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”
“What dumb things?”
“I don’t know, kiss you?”
“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”
You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach.
The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you.
You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove.
“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless.
“I am home.”
“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.
Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.
Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change.
Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down.
After all, you can’t love alone.
#stayshub#skzwritersclub#stray kids lee know#stray kids scenarios#lee know imagines#stray kids imagines#lee know scenarios#stray kids minho#minho roommate au#minho college au#lino fic#lee minho#lee know#college au#roommate au
756 notes
·
View notes
Text
percabeth zoom calls!
“Babe! Do you know where my charger is?”
Annabeth rolls her eyes, adjusting her computer screen so that it was facing her. Percy bangs around in the kitchen some more, for what she suspects is his charger, before he starts cursing, and she suspects he stubbed his toe on the corner of the counter like he’s done five times in the last week.
“Are you okay?” she asks after another minute of loud cursing, poking her head out from his bedroom.
“I’m just getting it all out before the students see.”
Annabeth leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know they made you that mad.”
Percy snorts, coming up in front of her to wrap him in her arms. He kisses her forehead before responding. “They make me livid.”
“Couldn’t possibly be as terrible as my kids,” she argues, smiling when his lips catch hers. “My calc kids can’t even do simple algebra.”
“I can’t do simple algebra,” he says, biting her lower lip. “That’s why I teach marine.”
“Marine is the most boring thing you could’ve possibly chosen to teach, but okay.”
“Says the walking calculator.”
Annabeth pinches his butt and he yelps.
“That was a compliment!”
“Make it sound like it next time,” she says, retreating back to his room. “I know that you finished teaching for the day, but I haven’t, so stay quiet.”
“That’s no fun.”
“You want to know what’s no fun? Having your students find out that you’re hooking up with their math teacher.”
Percy grins. “Is that what this is? And here I thought we were actually dating.”
“We won’t be if they find out because I will kill you,” Annabeth threatens without malice. She takes a step back to retreat into his room and he takes a step to follow her, which sends alarm shooting through her mind. “What are you doing?”
Percy has an amused smile plastered to his face, and she knows she’s about to be fighting whatever he decides to say next.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Uh, no you’re not.”
“It’s my bedroom.”
“You shouldn’t have invited me then,” Annabeth says, eyeing him as he keeps following her. “What are you, my shadow?”
“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.”
It’s so disgustingly cheesy but it’s also so disgustingly him that she can’t help but give in as he settles down onto the bed. Percy flips onto his stomach, reaching for the pillow she’d been using the previous night as Annabeth sits at his desk. As he turns his head towards her, his eyes trace over her, and she has to pretend not to notice, as though the red flush of her face didn’t give her away.
Percy’s hand reaches out to squeeze her knee to get her attention, and she feels butterflies in her stomach. They had been together for more than a few months now, and they’d been best friends for quite a while longer, but the way he looks at her never ceased to make her feel this way.
“I’m turning the class on,” she mutters, the corners of her lips twitching up. Percy making a motion to zip his lips, making her snicker.
It’s only a minute before someone’s joining the class and Annabeth’s snickering for an entirely different reason.
“Piper,” Annabeth says, laughing. “What are you wearing?”
“I like to think that I am wearing Gucci,” Piper says, posing over the camera. “What do you think?”
Annabeth has to stifle her laughs at her favorite student. “I think it looks… very original.”
“Why do I feel like that means you think it’s trashy, Ms. Chase? Do you think it’s trashy?”
Annabeth shoves Percy’s head out of frame as he tries to sneak a peek at Piper’s outfit. “To be fair, you are wearing a trash bag.”
“I am insulted that you do not know the difference between a trash bag and a plastic tarp,” Piper says.
Percy grunts as Annabeth shoves him backwards onto the bed again in an attempt to keep him out of camera because she is almost one-thousand percent certain that Piper would recognize him, and considering they were in the middle of a pandemic, Piper would also know that they had been staying together for a while. Annabeth loves Piper, but Piper has zero filter and absolutely will make a comment if she knew.
Eventually, a few more students join, and Annabeth spends time talking to them, trying not to burst out laughing at Percy’s mouthed remarks making fun of her students.
(“Your students are dumb as hell, Annabeth.”
“You are so lucky that we are on mute.”
“How do they even mess up ten plus seven?”
“I literally don’t even know.”)
Annabeth just tries to get through the hour without walking to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and murdering herself with it. She really loves her calculus students, but someone once said that the smartest people lack the most common sense, and boy, that could not have been more true.
She thinks she’s in the clear. She makes it through the entire lesson without blowing her cover of staying with their teacher, and it’s actually much more exhilarating than she would’ve expected. It was like she was hiding some dirty secret from them as she avoided eye contact behind the camera and tried not to awkwardly jerk around when his hand found its way back onto her knee, delicately tracing shapes.
Annabeth is so close, and just as she’s getting ready to say goodbye, Piper just has to open her big mouth.
“Ms. Chase?”
“Yes, Piper?”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
Annabeth blinks, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She suddenly feels as though something is about to go very, very wrong. “Depending on what it is, I may or may not answer.”
Over the screen, Piper keeps a straight face, but Annabeth has taught her for over three years, and she recognizes the fire in her eyes.
“Earlier today, I had a class with Mr. Jackson. Did you know I’m in marine science?”
“I did not,” Annabeth says, strained.
“I’m in marine science, and, uh, we had class earlier today over zoom. I was talking to Mr. Jackson for a little bit after.”
“Were you? That’s nice.”
“Yeah, Mr. Jackson is a super nice teacher. I think you’d like him.”
“Do you now?”
“Mh-hm. Anyways, we were talking, and I told him that I liked the painting that was hanging behind him.”
Annabeth freezes.
“It’s the same painting that’s hanging behind you.”
Oh god.
“Do you have something to tell us?” Piper asks.
Annabeth’s ears begin to ring as she realizes that she is inevitably screwed. Of course Piper would have no shame in outing her to the entire class of seniors because that was just how Piper was, but Annabeth should’ve been smart enough not to film in the same spot because she knows her students well enough to know that there is a torment of sex jokes about to come her way.
“You’re looking a little bit red there, Ms. Chase.”
“What exactly are you implying, McLean?”
“Why are you in Mr. Jackson’s apartment?”
Annabeth is so mortified that she cannot move, but Percy seems to be just as shameless as Piper because a second later, he’s hopping into frame, smiling widely at her students.
“Hey, Piper!” Percy chirps.
“Mr. Jackson! So nice to see you! Why is Ms. Chase in your apartment?”
Percy clicks his tongue. “Now, that is a good question, but the most simple answer is that we’re quarantining — is that a word? — together.”
Annabeth sees Leo unmute himself and she immediately drops her face into her hands.
“Well, well, well,” Leo tsks. “I didn’t know we were studying chemistry right now.”
“I will make you do integrals,” Annabeth threatens.
“I’d like to see you try,” Leo has the audacity to say.
Another student unmutes themself and Annabeth recognizes the voice as Reyna’s.
“I am disgusted to find out that my teachers are dating,” Reyna says.
Percy lights up. “Reyna! You haven’t been showing up to my classes!”
“Mr. Jackson! That is because I simply do not care! Also, I would’ve preferred to not know that you two are living together.”
“Me too,” Annabeth mutters.
“Are you dating?” Piper asks. “I’ve always wanted you to date.”
Annabeth’s eye twitches. “I— no, Piper.”
“We’re not?” Percy frowns. “I thought we were.”
“They don’t need to know that,” she hisses.
Percy, always a people pleaser, pointedly kisses her on the cheek. He was always able to brush things off with a laugh, and it’s something that made Annabeth fall in love with him, but right now, it was something she thinks he would be better off without.
“They don’t care,” he dismisses, turning towards the camera. “Yes, we’re dating! We’ve been dating for six months now.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s so cute!” Piper exclaims.
“I want to throw up,” Reyna says.
Leo gives an impish grin. “I felt my relationship senses tingling.”
“Shut up, Leo, no one cares,” Piper says, rolling her eyes. “Ms. Chase! I’m so happy for you! You guys should get married.”
“Way to jump the gun, Piper,” Percy says. “Give us another six months at least.”
“Also, now that we know you two are staying together — we aren’t stupid. We know what adults do when they’re alone, so just try to keep that off camera, ‘kay?”
Annabeth is actually going to drop down to the ground and cry in about two seconds. Piper wasn’t particularly wrong in her assumptions, but Annabeth did not need her students to know about her personal life in this much detail!
“Don’t think we don’t know about what you do when you’re alone with Jason,” Percy teases, and Annabeth actually chokes on air.
“But we’re not teachers—”
“Okay!” Annabeth interrupts, ready for this to be over. The can see the rest of her students screaming in chat, and she does not want to be here to witness this any longer. “I’m going to end this call now. Please never speak of this again.”
“I will bring this up tomorrow!” Piper says cheerfully, waving at them. “I—”
Annabeth clicks off the screen immediately, and the room goes silent.
She stays there with her head buried in her hands for a while, Percy’s hand still running up and down her back. His fingers curl as he scratches her skin languidly, waiting for her to get over her initial embarrassment.
“Oh my god,” Annabeth mumbles into her hands. “That was awful.”
“It wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” he assures.
“They’re never going to let us live this down.”
“They didn’t care,” Percy says, holding back a snicker. “At least now we can kiss in front of them.”
“You’re never getting any more kisses from me,” Annabeth says, standing up from the chair to try and walk the humiliation away.
Percy grabs her wrist, tugging until she looks him in the eyes. “We’ll see about that.”
Annabeth is so flushed that she wants to die, and her students now know about her current living status and have their own conclusions as to what they do when they’re alone, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel incredible.
She tilts her head as she looks at him and he does the same. There’s a fire in his eyes as he challenges her.
“I’m not going to kiss you right now if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Percy bites his lower lip, whole body shaking with laughter. “You so sure?”
Annabeth takes a step back as Percy takes one forwards. She finds herself cornered against the bed with nowhere to go. She turns back to face Percy, and she only has one second to prepare before he’s grabbing her and falling onto the bed beside her.
“Percy,” she says, jerking around when he started tickling her. “This isn’t — funny!”
Percy kisses her neck, fingers moving her shirt up slightly to grip her sides. “I think it’s hilarious. Your students found out you have a boyfriend. So what? You’re human.”
“Stop,” she says, snorting and jerking again as he squeezes and palms her stomach.
“Kiss me.”
Percy’s fingers stop moving along her skin as he hovers over her, looking deeply into her eyes. She feels so warm and loved, laying here with her best friend, and he’s the complete opposite of her, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s for moments like this, to balance her out.
And as she kisses him, she thinks that she can complain about her invasive students and cursed zoom calls later because the only thing that matters right now is making sure he keeps kissing her like she’s the only thing in the world.
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
“f” for effort
word count: 3.6k
genre: fluff
summary: this feud has gone on far too long. the study room is yours and you no longer care what namjoon has to say about it.
You’re running for your life.
At least, that’s really what it looks like. If you weren’t so goddamn fast, bystanders might have stopped to ask if you were safe or needed help. You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf’s elderly grandma as you tear across campus with only one destination in mind. Beads of sweat drip down your forehead and stains are threatening to form in the pits of your shirt but frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. You’ve got a place to be, and fast.
Said place is your heaven. Your paradise. Your land of milk and honey. Or as a moron would call it, the corner library study room.
It’s roomy, it’s quiet, almost no one knew it was there. When you had loads of coursework to catch up on (which was often and just so happened to be the case on this Friday night), you sought refuge in your precious study room. During the day, the lighting was beautiful. The windows were massive, letting all of the sun’s rays beam into the cozy room and make you feel warm, bright, awake. At night, when you became especially frustrated, you could always slide your rolling chair over to said big windows and gaze at the stars or stare off into the night.
No one appreciated that room correctly, not like you did it.
Which is why you had to stop that little fucker, Namjoon, from stealing it from right under your nose.
The two of you were only freshmen, but your ongoing feud over the glorious study room was intense enough to have lasted generations. You both were willing to pull out all the stops if that’s what it took to keep the other from making it to the room. You used the cheapest of tricks, flat out sabotaging the other if you felt it necessary.
You recall one particular time you planted a fake spider (one of his biggest fears, you’d learned) in his backpack before the end of your shared Calc II class, making him let loose a shrill shriek, much to the annoyance of the professor. And while Namjoon was getting lectured on disrupting class and not acting his age, you were waltzing off to the study room, internally flipping him off as you did. The memory makes you chuckle as you heave and sprint.
It wasn’t that Namjoon had done anything particularly wrong to you. You figured in another context, you might have found him much more bearable, maybe even nice. But something about him just rubbed you the wrong way.
For one, he was an applied mathematics major. Who the fuck majors in just math? People who want to flex how much smarter they are than you, that’s who. And what did the applied part even mean? You suspected someone just as unbearable as Namjoon had added the word in so that he (because of course it was a man) and all his other mathematician friends could be pretentious, annoying fucks together.
Secondly, despite being one of the top students in your class, he was a member of a fraternity. How he had time to both outperform everyone else in the STEM program and party it out with the frat brothers every night was beyond you. You’d heard from your senior friend (who also notified you that Namjoon was after your precious study room) that was also part of the brotherhood that Namjoon was on some kind of fraternity-specific scholarship and that was the only reason he joined. That you understood, tuition was no joke. Didn’t make him any less annoying, though.
And third? Third... Well, you couldn’t think of a third point right now but you’re certain there is one, you know it. You probably couldn’t remember because you were running out of oxygen and dying under the beating sun.
You’re almost crying tears of joy when you enter the library, head whipping around to search for a particular tall blonde. Luckily, he’s nowhere in sight.
Your feet scream as they carry you to your safe haven but you can’t even be bothered until-
“Going somewhere?” He strides next to you, his effortless speed-walking easily overtaking your sloppy attempt at a run. Your books are threatening to slip from your arms and you’re fairly certain you lost the sunglasses on top of your head long ago when you came barreling down the bio building stairs.
“Fuck you, Kim,” you spit harshly. “I came in here first so I get the room.” Your crudeness only makes him laugh maniacally. You curse the little dimples that crease into his cheeks, taking them as an insult to your misery.
“As far as I can see-” He takes advantage of your height difference and takes a massive step in front of you. “-I’m going to get there before you.” As if to tease you further, he spins to face you as he easily surpasses you, approaching the study room and its sign-up sheet with increasing speed.
If you want to win this round- and you really, really do, not only to get your work done but to rub it in his smug face- you’ll need to play dirty.
Moments later, Namjoon is picking up the pen, smirking at you as he moves to haphazardly scribble his name into the time slot. But you’re already formulating a plan. Your textbooks were pretty damn heavy, you bet it’d definitely throw him off if you managed to drop them on his toes. Actually, it definitely would, since the idiot was wearing sandals in late October. As you’re taking aim, however, Namjoon’s face falls.
“The fuck is a board game club?” You freeze, mere steps away from dropping your books on his foot.
“What?” When he doesn’t explain, you nudge him aside and peer at the sign-up sheet. Lo and behold, there it is.
From eight p.m. to midnight, the room is booked. By a... board game club. And it’s seven forty-five now, which means you’re shit out of luck.
“Well, looks like neither of us-”
“This is bullshit.” Namjoon chuckles at your disgusted expression.
“It’s just a study room, Y/N. I’m sure there’s another free one.”
“Well, I don’t want just any study room, Kim. I want my study room.” He scoffs at your arrogance and (quite unfortunately) follows you as you spin on your heel and take off in the other direction.
“Well, what are you gonna do about it? Tell off the game club?”
“I’m going to lodge a complaint and get my study room back.”
“Mhmm.” He trails you incessantly as you march up to the nearest help desk and drop your books in front of the poor employee about to suffer from your wrath.
“Can I help you?” the sheepish girl asks. She couldn’t be much older than you. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do.
“Yes, can you please explain why a-” You raise your fingers for air quotes. “-‘board game club’ has booked a private study room, taking priority over student study time?” The girl is taken aback at your abruptness, clearly not used to being confronted in such a manner. But you weren’t here to waste time by avoiding hurt feelings.
“I-” She hesitates, looking to the blonde beside you for help, of which he gives none. “I’m not sure what to tell you. The study rooms are first come, first serve.”
“For students,” you emphasize, pressing your palms into the desk and leaning forward. “Not unofficial club gatherings.” Something changes in the girl’s face and she turns away from you and faces her computer, typing something across the keyboard. In just a moment, her entire demeanor has flipped. It seems she’s not interested in entertaining your attitude anymore.
“Well, looks like the ‘Board Game Club’ is an official, university-sponsored club. Which means they’re just as much entitled to study room time as you are. Actually, more-so, since you didn’t book your room in advance.” She spins her office chair backs towards you. “Sorry.” She shrugs, flashing you an all-too-fake smile.
“Ugh, fine.” You pile your books back into your arms and roll your eyes, leaving the library altogether.
And your trail follows you.
“What, you’re just gonna leave? There were other study rooms open!” You scoff, annoyed at his ignorance.
“Well the other study rooms that are open at this time either smell like ass or have no air conditioning. So that’s a no-go.” Namjoon laughs quietly, agreeing with your sentiment. He’s been stuck in his fair share of poor study rooms before and knows it can ruin the experience.
“So.... what are you going to do now?”
You find yourself wondering why he’s still here, talking to you when he should be organizing his own study plan for the night. Further yet, you wonder why you’re entertaining his stupid questions at all.
“I dunno. Camp out at the campus Starbucks?”
“What? But they close at ten!” You shoot an exasperated look in his direction.
“And what’s it to you?” You pick up the pace in an effort to shake off your stalker, but much to your annoyance he jumps in front of you, thrusting out his hands before you can take a step further. You nearly collide with his chest.
“Would you just wait a sec?” Your eyes glide up to meet his as you tap your foot, barely acknowledging you’re listening. “Why don’t you just come back to my place with me?” Your eyes narrow.
“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but-” His eyes widen and he begins frantically shaking his head. You almost smirk. It’s fun watching him squirm.
“No! That’s not what I meant!” He sighs, wringing his hands. “Most of the fraternity is at this other party so the house will be empty tonight. And quiet. I know that’s why you like the study rooms and it’s the least I can do for you.”
You’re still suspicious. What’s in it for him? He certainly wasn’t just being nice to be nice. There was something else involved.
“If you knew the house would be empty tonight then why did you try to take the study room?” Namjoon shrugs, grinning mischievously.
“You’re just too fun to tease.”
That remark has you scoffing and brushing past him, not even dignifying him with a response.
“Wait! Just slow down, would you?” A heavy hand settles on your shoulder and Namjoon is beside you again. You’re about to scream with frustration.
“What, Namjoon? What could you possibly tell me that will convince me to come study with you?”
He grins sheepishly.
“I’ll buy you pizza?”
Okay, yeah, you’re a tad ashamed you let your morals slide in exchange for greasy pizza that will wreck your stomach in the morning. But you’re hungry, okay? And the dining hall was already closed and your wallet was empty and it just happened.
And now you were plopped on Namjoon’s bed typing away furiously at your laptop. He’d made a few efforts at light conversation, but he quickly gave up trying to push that boulder when you barely grunted in response to his questions.
His room was surprisingly nice and organized. The bedsheets were barely wrinkled and the room smelled pleasant despite it being apart of a literal frat house. Though his desk was a mess, littered with math theory books and philosophy papers and historical fiction novels. The books appeared well-loved and cared for, not like they were simply written as required on a syllabus.
He appeared pretty organized, too. The oak-colored round glasses he’d donned after arriving made him look older, more scholarly. And definitely more pretentious.
You were glad the two of you weren’t doing this at your dorm. Your room was an actual nightmare. Your life might be organized and planned down to the minute, but your bedroom was an entirely different story.
“So...” Namjoon chews on the end of his pen as he reworks old calculus problems. “Psychology major?”
Really, trying at the small talk again? Good luck with that.
You’re about to completely ignore him when it occurs to you that if you don’t talk about your major he will most certainly talk about his. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard him rant and preach about math and its many uses in modern society. So before you end up stuck in that situation, you entertain his question. If it could even be called that.
“Mhmm.” You bite the bottom of your lip as you contemplate the next line of your essay. You don’t notice Namjoon staring. “I plan to graduate a year early and go straight to med school. Probably open a family practice one day.” Namjoon leans back into his bed frame, nodding in something close to awe.
“Wow, you really got it that planned out?”
“Yup,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Since I was fifteen. I only majored in psychology because I think it’s interesting and I’ll look well-rounded when I start applying to med school. I’ll definitely just be a family doctor.”
“Well, you are a great people person...” You finally crack the next line of your paper and type it away, completely missing the joke and subtle jab.
Ding dong.
“That the pizza?” It’s the first thing you’ve said to him unprompted since you got here.
“Think so. I’ll be back.” He heaves himself up from the bed and trots out of the room, right as your phone buzzes. You only spare the screen a passing glance, but upon seeing the notification is a text from your roommate, you immediately open it.
9:18 pm. Yeji: where are you? ive looked for you everywhere >:(
9:22 pm. Yeji: Y/N? pls respond or ill be worried
9:23 pm. Y/N: I thought you were using the room for yourself tonight. Why are you at the library?
9:23 pm. Yeji: suho cancelled :( i came to find you at the library but you aren’t here ?
9:24 pm. Y/N: The study rooms were all taken. Me and Namjoon are studying at his place.
9:24 pm. Yeji: wait, really?!?!
9:24 pm. Yeji: oh my god, FINALLY
9:25 pm. Y/N: ???
9:27 pm. Y/N: Yeji??
9:28 pm. Yeji: im just relieved you two are finally owning up to the obvious sexual tension in this stupid feud and banging it out ;)
You choke. Is that what people thought about you? The idea made you want to gag.
9:29 pm. Y/N: What ??
9:29 pm. Y/N: NO
9:29 pm. Y/N: That is most definitely NOT what is happening.
9:29 pm. Y/N: That’s disgusting.
9:30 pm. Yeji: aww booooooo
9:30 pm. Yeji: and to think, i was getting my hopes up for you
9:30 pm. Yeji: but seriously tho
9:31 pm. Yeji: whatever dance you two are playing isn’t gonna last long
9:31 pm. Yeji: its obvious you two like each other
With that, you shut the phone off completely and set it face down, suddenly feeling very, very hot.
Yeji was an idiot. She didn’t know what she was talking about.
Right?
This argument, this feud, this competition, it was fueled by anger and annoyance and, as much as you hate to say it, pettiness. You couldn’t stand Kim. And he didn’t particularly like you either. There was nothing else going on here.
Your arguments weren’t flirting. They were arguments. Simple as that.
But then again, you were sitting in his room. Studying together. Letting him buy you dinner.
Well, fuck.
“Pizza delivery!” You scream in fright as he enters the room, making him nearly drop the box full of your precious dinner.
“Oh my god, fuck, are you okay?” You quickly fan at your cheeks to combat the furnace burning underneath them.
“Yep! I’m fine! Just don’t scare me like that, for god’s sake.”
When you meet his eyes, Namjoon looks genuinely apologetic.
Your heart flutters. This little shit.
“Well, uh, here’s your pizza.” He slides the box next to your laptop and settles on the opposite side of the bed, returning to his work.
“You’re not gonna eat?”
“Nah, I ate earlier. And your stomach is growling. I can hear it from over here.” Your eyes bulge.
Had he cared like this all along? Had you just been too blind to notice it? You were freaking out, your heart rate climaxing and your hands quickly becoming lightly coated in sweat.
The weight of the past few months hits you like a freight train.
It’s much too overwhelming.
You’re suddenly aware of your close proximity. The smell of the room, of him, is overpowering and suffocating. The air is thick and you think you might choke. When did that dimpled grin become so attractive? Just before it immediately pissed you off but now...
You eye his blonde locks, imagining what it’d be like to run your fingers through them before you can stop yourself. The glasses you’d found pretentious somehow make him cute, maybe even endearing. Did you always feel like this?
“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or like you might throw up. Please don’t puke on my floor, I’m begging.”
“Fine!” you squeak, whipping your face back to the laptop screen, unwilling to let your eyes move even an inch in his direction.
Even still, it’s like you can feel his body heat from across the bed, calling you in, taunting you for being the biggest moron you knew.
You gotta get out of here.
You finish your essay in record time, just as the clock strikes eleven. You’ve already instructed Yeji to pick you up at eleven-fifteen, and she’s always early. Now all you had to do was ignore the way your heart was beating in your throat and slip away to forget this ever happened.
After a few days used to succumb to logic, you’d realize this was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. An unnecessary emotional reaction.
“Well-” You stand, gathering your books in your arms. “I’m off. Thanks for buying me dinner and letting me intrude.” He looks up from his work to you, eyes bleary and exhausted. You hate the way you enjoy how he gives you his full attention and concern.
“It’s really no problem. Do you want me to walk you home?”
Goddamn, Namjoon. Stop being such a gentleman, would you?
“No. It’s fine. My roommate is picking me up.”
“Oh, okay,” he replies, appearing slightly disappointed. No, he wasn’t disappointed. You’re just crazy and emotionally unstable at the moment.
You bid him an awkward wave and slowly back out of the room when he calls out for you.
“Y/N!” You freeze in the hallway as he approaches, noticing how his hair has fallen out of its styled position and hangs loosely rumpled in his face.
“Yes?” He probably was gonna ask for you to pay for the pizza since he didn’t eat it. Yeah, that seems like a Namjoon thing to do.
He pauses and grins awkwardly, making your eyes fly to those dimples. He wrings his hands.
“I- uh-” He breathes out sharply through his nose. “I had a nice time.” You nod, allowing no change in your blank expression.
“I appreciated the quiet. Thanks.” He sighs, looking as tired as you feel.
“Look, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been trying to tell you I’m interested in you for a few months now.” Your heart stops and you’re unable to offer a response. “I may have got a bit carried away teasing but, well…’
“What do I need to do to secure another study date with you?”
You’re shocked. Flattered, even. But more than anything, you feel your pride inflating in your chest. You quickly forget that just moments before, you were the one drooling over him and instead bask in the fact that he’s been pining for you this whole time. You feel emboldened.
You give him a half-hearted shrug. Namjoon’s face falls.
“If you want a second date with me, you’ll have to do better than trashy pizza and textbooks.” A smile spreads across the boy’s face as he lets out a laugh that he’s desperately trying to contain.
You love seeing him flustered. You’re a bit more comfortable admitting that now.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course. I’ll work on that.”
You give him a curt nod as the two of you walk towards the front door.
“Find me in the corner study room when you come up with something.” You give him a glance over your shoulder as you step out into the night.
“Yes ma’am,” he shouts back, playfully saluting you. You’re already missing his annoying presence as he closes the door.
When you collapse into the passenger seat of Yeji’s car, you aren’t listening to her chatter at all. Not that you normally would, but this time there’s not even a chance you don’t tune everything out.
You know, you think you could make room for Namjoon in your life plan. He was a little shit, sure. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t too. And something tells you that you won’t be getting rid of him so easily anymore.
#bts#bts scenario#bts fanfic#namjoon#namjoon fanfic#namjoon scenario#namjoon fluff#not quite enemies to lovers but somewhere in that realm#more like unknowingly flirtatious idiots to lovers i'd say#namjoon as an asshole#OC as a bigger asshole#but they're assholes in love#ya feel?
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
12th July, 2021
4:30 p. m.
🌆 Today's tasks
revise the complete syllabus of physics
practice two hours of maths (differential calc)
revise the architecture stuff + drawing practice
practice mental aptitude
8th July - What’s your happiest summer memory from your childhood?
most of my summers have been pretty good honestly (also the fact that I literally cant remember stuff until its prompted to me) (also this is me like an hour after typing that last sentence and i just spent the last hour trying to look up and remember what my life has been up to now because I got a weird existential crisis on how I literally don't remember anything. i just remember weird fragments of details but not like the overall event sdkdf- ANYWAYS) I guess the happiest summer memory would be a birthday party I had when I was in either 5th 6th or 7th grade and like it had kinda rained that day and then there was like a soft sunshine at like 5 in the evening and when people came over it was just very fun.
9th July - Do you usually go on vacation during the summer?
Yeah! we used to go someplace new every summer for like a week or so and it was very fun but we haven't for the past 3 years, last year because covid and also mainly because it was the prime-time of my studies.
10th July - What is the best vacation you have ever been on? (note: doesn’t have to be a summer vacation)
We went to Goa in 2016 while we were about to drop my brother off for his first year at college. that was a really fun trip!
11th July - What is your favourite vacation memory?
Me and my brother did zip-lining between the mountains at Meghalaya in like 2017 (i think.) (I'm pretty sure i was in 9th grade so it was definitely 2017) It was like very high up and there was a huge valley filled with trees and there were also clouds there so basically we literally went through the clouds. It was really really cool.
12th July - What is the worst vacation you have ever been on?
There's never really been a worst vacation but there was this one time when i was really smol (like 3rd grade i think, or rather in the gap between 3rd and 4th) and dad was getting promoted and transferred to a new place and we'd planed that we'll do the trip, come back, pack up, and then move to the new place. but then while we were in the train, dad's senior called him up and was like there's an emergency or sth and we had to reduce the time for the trip so rather than 1.5 weeks, we had to do it all in like 5-6 days, and we in fact went to ALL of the planned places, but we had to wake up super early (like 4a.m.) and went to bed at around 12 to 1. The guy who'd been driving us around was pretty cool with it and dad had given him like quite a lot of extra tip because ofc he deserved it and I'm honestly thankful for that lmfao. and when we came back we were supposed to be home in the morning and spend the whole day packing and the next day was when we had to actually move out, but the train got delayed and we got home at night. so we had to get everything packed overnight and shipped out by like 12 p.m the next day and there was a LOT of stuff.
so anyway. the trip wasn't bad just a bit rushed ksdsdf
13th July - What is your dream vacation?
Just getting to a new and relaxing where ever i end up going. Like, nice sceneries, good food, getting to know people even if its just for a few hours or a few days, just gaining some memorable experiences. that sounds like such a typical answer but isn't that the point of travelling in general?
HHHhH looks like I've got another item in my post-exam to-do list: make a list of at least some major things in the years throughout my life <3
Also the day has been dark and gloomy snfbsjdb if doesn't rain by the end of the day I will be sad sndnsn
Anyway! if you'd like to do the 2021 summer studyblr challenge too head over to @myhoneststudyblr 's account and check out the whole thing! I hope your summer's been going well!! Have a great day!!
#summer studying challenge#studyblr#study inspo#student#study#study aesthetic#study motivation#studying#studyspiration#caffinateef lish
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
For the ask game, 1 and Bully.
1 - It’s 4am. Why are you awake?
My first instinct is just to say that it's a night when I'm sleeping really badly. I was never really one for all-nighters. There have only ever been three very rare times I'd be up and actually out of bed before 6, and none of them is a current concern: a.) I was too tired to finish studying the night before, so I decided to get up early to continue going over my notes instead of trying to stay up late (looking at you, Calc 1); b.) I'm going to perform in the sunrise St. Lucia Day concert and call time is 6 a.m. in the next city over; or c.) I'm leaving for choir tour/competing in Model UN and need to be in a different state later that day (this one could probably be combined with Lucia as "I have somewhere to be," but Lucia is its own precious thing in my head and also comes from a different era of my life, namely ages 11-17 rather than college).
Bully - Are motorcycles cool?
So, I almost never think about motorcycles. My favorite high school teacher was badly injured while riding his motorcycle the summer before last (he had taken it in for repairs and the repair people had put it back together wrong, so it fell apart on the highway), so that's the first thing that comes to mind.
I was going to treat you to some of baby!Lin's writing, because I remember this little vignette I wrote in sixth grade that featured one character on a stolen motorcycle, but I couldn't find it--I think I may never have actually typed it up, and I'm not sure what notebook it was in, but the notebooks from that era are at my parents' house if they still exist. The point of that vignette was a friend break-up, basically; the boy who stole the motorcycle had been a sort of bad-boy love interest, but the protagonist was realizing that he was actually too far gone for her taste. Writing that scene was probably the most I've ever thought about motorcycles.
Get in on the ask game!
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Haikyuu Rambles (College au? but covid exists)
Forward:
Suga & Daichi are college dorm mates
Their dorm is connected to 2 other suites so they have access to a fridge & utilities to cook
i don’t mention their other suite mates this oneshot focuses on Suga & Daichi
Covid shut down their school
classes are still in session virtually
all students must stay in their dorms unless absolutely necessary (so to go & buy groceries)
Over their years rooming together, Suga has acquired lots of stuff to make coffee
he has a milk frother, french press/ a bunch of stuff
so Suga can make many various caffeinated beverages (he’s like a mini-barista)
Suga drinks coffee.
Too much, in Daichi’s humble opinion.
He has at least 4 cups everyday. Sometimes more.
CONCERNINGLY MORE.
An iced macchiato for his 7am class. Why did Suga think signing up for this class would be a good idea? He doesn’t know. Suga supposes that if he were in the classroom instead of taking classes out of his dorm room things might be different, but now he wishes past Suga had been kinder to present Suga... because can’t keep his eyes open for Calc class without coffee-in-hand. Thankfully Bokuto is in the class too & asks a question every 5 minutes which keeps the class engaged, but Suga has to wonder how Bokuto can somehow be so loud over Zoom. It’s uncanny.
An americano at 11am for la clase de español. Sitting in a bean-chair near the window for some natural light, Suga sips from his cup & listens as la profesora talks. They’re going into breakout zooms to discuss their opinions on what happened in the last episode of “Gran Hotel” they had to watch for homework, & he sadly puts the americano down to unmute. Akaashi is randomly assigned his partner today, so the two hablan sobre las problemas de Julio y Alicia.
A cold brew at 2pm for Literature. At this point, all the earlier caffeine has worn off, so Suga needs something strong to keep him going. This class is both a blessing & a curse; they only meet once a week, but their sessions are 2 & half hours long. They’re dreadful. At least Daichi takes the class as well, so they can share a monitor and sit under a warm blanket together during class, but not even cuddles can make the class end sooner. After a while of listening to the professor lecture about the peculiarities of the syntax of some Shakespeare poem, Suga feels like his brain has turned to mush, and sips of the cold brew force his internal systems to remain awake, just for a little longer.
A few shots of straight expresso at 4pm to study. On days like today, all of Suga’s classes finish in the morning, so getting work done as soon as possible means he can go to bed as soon as possible. A while ago Suga tried one of those bang energy drinks Noya had told him about, but it was too sugary. Suga likes his coffee plain, which surprised a lot of his friends, but he just can’t handle that much sweetness in a beverage. He’d rather eat something sweet alongside his coffee to balance out the bitterness. But with the bean juice flowing through his veins, he feels motivated to tackle his assignments and aggressively gets to work.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daichi is concerned.
As Suga’s roommate, he feels like it’s partially his responsibility if Suga gets a heart attack from too much coffee, but google says that a lethal amount of caffeine is around 30 cups of coffee... It would be pretty difficult to drink that much coffee in one sitting (right? right?!?!?!?), but still, Daichi is worried.
Seeing Suga spend hours up each night working so diligently on his homework so he can succeed makes him feel proud, yet at the same time increasingly frustrated that Suga’s dream degree seems to be slowly eating away at his health.
Watching Suga start to shake on the daily due to caffeine is not something he wants to get used to, but hopefully the habit will die off as the quarter ends (soon! thank goodness).
Daichi sits on his bed, pondering different ways he can help Suga ease his workload, when a loud slam pulls him from his thoughts. Suga has fallen asleep on his textbook.
Suga would want to be woken up, but seeing how easily Suga can fall asleep even after a consuming a double(?) expresso is quite concerning. He must be beyond exhausted. Still, knowing that he would get an earful for not waking him up earlier, Daichi sets an hour timer on his phone. He’ll wake up Suga then.
And while he’s not one to enable Suga’s bad habits, maybe in the meantime he’ll try to make Suga some coffee. But preferably one with a lower caffeine concentration.
Walking to their suite’s kitchen area and getting out the milk frother & coffee beans, Daichi wonders if he could possibly pass off hot chocolate as coffee. He doesn’t think Suga would buy it, but it’s worth a shot.
#haikyuu#sugawara#suga#suga fanfic#sugawara fic#daichi#look y'all i wrote this#coffee#caffeine#daisuga#daisuga roomates#haikyuu college au#school is stressful#suga drinks too much coffee#can you tell how much coffee i've drank over quarantine#haikyuu rambles#haikyuu drabbles#daisuga dorm mates
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
limitless.
chapter thirteen.
wc: 2,245. original publish date: october 27, 2020.
"Christ, Jack, what did you do?" Van Gogh mutters. He and JFK are in the master bathroom, Kennedy sitting on the tiled floor while Vincent sits on the side of the bathtub, scrubbing John's arm with a warm rag, fresh blood trickling into the basin.
"Exactly what you told me not to," John replies, smiling.
Van Gogh and JFK sat on the rollercoaster track for some amount of time -- it could've been minutes or hours, it made no difference to them. They didn't talk outside of the occasional, your eyes are pretty or your skin is soft, and eventually they stood up and walked back to the service ladder. They'd gotten lucky on their ascent, managing to avoid all the rusty metal. On their descent, though, JFK hadn't been so good at avoiding.
Vincent takes the rag off of John's arm to examine the wound. There's a small amount of blood trickling out of it, but he can't see any rust contaminating his boyfriend's skin anymore. He gives one last swipe with the rag, smearing the blood from the wound before dabbing it up with the cloth. From the cardboard box on the lip of the bathtub next to him, Van Gogh fishes out a big rectangular bandaid and peels back the paper. He sticks it to JFK's arm, the cut vanishing from sight.
"You got your shot, right?" Vincent asks, an unwelcome twinge of panic seeping into his voice. "I could never live with myself if you got tetanus under my care."
"Under your care, huh?" Kennedy jokes. Van Gogh raises a warning eyebrow. "Yes, I got my tetanus shot," he adds in a more controlled voice.
Vincent smoothes down the bandaid before crumpling up the paper in his palm. "Good," he says before turning away and depositing the wrapper into the trashcan.
JFK bends his arm and looks down at it, assessing the bandage and the damage underneath. He smiles to himself in satisfaction. "You could be a doctor, Vinny."
Vincent laughs. "Yeah, because I'm so gentle."
Kennedy shrugs. "You didn't hurt me while you were patching me up."
Van Gogh turns to look at JFK, his elbow resting on the bathtub, his wet brown hair flopping over his face. The individual strands clump together, sticking to his forehead, his cheeks, his brow bones. He moves the hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, and Vincent watches with a slack jaw.
When he finally gains his composure, and stops staring, he says, "I'm gentle with my hands, not with my words."
"You're gentle with your lips, too," JFK adds.
A sly smile tears across Vincent's face, and his cheeks glow pink. "Oh, stop that," he replies, shoving Kennedy playfully.
"Ow!" He whines, rubbing his arm in his over-exaggerated way. "Don't hit the wounded!"
"You're insufferable, my boy," Vincent smiles.
"Clearly you don't think so, considering you just saved me from tetanus."
Van Gogh laughs. "Come on, we don't need to be sitting on the bathroom floor anymore. I'm gonna go read." He stands up and heads for the bathroom door, JFK following shortly behind.
"Ooh, when he reads for fun!"
Vincent stops suddenly, and John nearly smacks into his back. "Jack."
"Vincent."
"We're missing school," he replies, turning around.
JFK and Van Gogh stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before bursting into mutual laughter.
"I don't care," JFK says once he catches his breath.
"Oh, me neither."
Van Gogh takes his book off of the nightstand on his side of the bed and pushes open the dormer window, listening to it squeal and shriek against the wind and rusty mechanism. He climbs out onto the balcony, setting his book down on one of the chairs before assessing how cool the air is and turning around to get a blanket.
"Are you going to come outside?" Vincent asks after retrieving a folded blanket from the bottom drawer of the dresser. JFK is sitting on the bed, the faint white glow of his phone screen illuminating his face.
He looks up at Van Gogh, his expression distant. "Hm? Oh, yeah in a second."
Vincent shakes the blanket, letting it out of its neat square before wrapping it around himself. "What're you doing?"
"Oh, you know..." JFK waves him off. "Just... texting."
Van Gogh stops, one hand on the dormer window, an eyebrow raised. "Who?"
John shrugs, as if to say no big deal. "Ponce de León."
"The guy with the weird pants?" Vincent asks.
JFK's eyebrows knit together, defensive. "His pants aren't weird!"
"I'm kidding," Vincent replies. Kind of.
Kennedy looks up from his phone when he feels Van Gogh still staring. "I'll be out in a bit. He just... needs some help on an assignment."
"Oh, because you'd be able to help."
JFK knits his eyebrows together. "Didn't you say earlier today that I'm smarter than I let on?"
Vincent scoffs. "You are smarter than you let on. But how could you possibly help Ponce with an assignment when you haven't even been at school?"
Kennedy begrudgingly switches off his phone, and rolls himself off of the bed. He picks up his own book from the nightstand on his side of the bed, and walks across the room until he's standing in front of Van Gogh.
"Come on," he says. "Let's go read on the balcony."
Vincent drops his book, and it thuds onto the hardwood floor. He winces internally, worrying about the paper cover bending backwards. He doesn't peel his gaze off of JFK to look at it, though. That's an issue for later.
"I'm not going to read," he says, his words curt.
"Are you going to draw?" JFK asks, and he can feel Vincent soften.
Van Gogh can never stay mad at Kennedy for long, not with his watercolour-green eyes boring into his brown ones. "Yes," he replies, his tone lighter and volume lower. "I am going to draw."
John glances at the book lying on the floor beside Van Gogh's socked feet. He nods toward it. "The cover's going to bend back."
Vincent bends his knees to pick up the book, never breaking eye contact with John. "Thanks," he says before brushing past the boy to switch out the novel for his sketchpad. He hears JFK step out the window and rest his foot on the balcony behind him. His phone is still sitting on the bed, the screen dim, but the phone unlocked. Van Gogh takes a guilty look behind him, making sure Kennedy is occupied.
If I could just see what they were really texting about... he thinks, and he takes the device in his hands. He taps the screen, restoring it to its full colour. His thumb hovers over the iMessage icon, but he stops himself before he can go any further. No, Vincent! Looking through your boyfriend's phone is a crazy boyfriend thing, and you're not a crazy boyfriend. He sets the phone back down on the bed and takes a deep breath, retrieving his sketchpad from his nightstand.
JFK is reading peacefully when Van Gogh steps back out onto the balcony. He seems to already be absorbed in his book.
"What class did Ponce want your help with?" He asks casually, still not convinced that leaving JFK's phone alone was the best decision to make.
The corners of Kennedy's mouth pull up. "Algebra II," he replies.
"You're not even taking that class," Vincent says, forcing a polite laugh.
John laughs with his full chest. Vincent's lips twitch. He always crumples under the boy's euphoria. "Yeah, I know. He always forgets that I'm in pre calc."
"Always?" Vincent asks, trying to make his voice sound bigger than he feels.
JFK laughs again, shaking his head. "Yeah. He always needs help with some of the later problems in the lessons. I guess he's too scared to ask the teacher for help."
Vincent opens his sketchbook, and his stomach lurches when he flips past an unfinished drawing of John. He remembers the day he drew it -- he sketched it from a picture he'd taken. Kennedy is sitting on his bed in Exclamation!, his Colgate model grin filling up his face and his eyes crinkling with laughter. His hand is shielding his face, like he didn't want Vincent to take the picture. His hair is bigger than ever, perfectly styled with hair gel. His green eyes are glowing. Van Gogh had almost forgotten what genuine happiness looked like.
"Well, I guess you would be able to help him with the answers, considering you took the class last year..."
JFK shrugs. "I guess so, but I didn't really retain anything."
Vincent smiles at the boy with the corner of his mouth, but John doesn't notice. He's already lost in his book again. Van Gogh shakes his head and looks away. JFK isn't a cheater. He's not good with commitment, but he wouldn't get into something if he couldn't stay in it. But then again, they never really had the conversation about monogamy...
Van Gogh rests the sketchpad on his lap, the unfinished drawing of John still smiling up at him.
"Jack?" He asks, the smallest whisper of hesitation in his voice.
JFK shuts his book, his finger wedged in between the pages, keeping his place. "Yes?"
Vincent swallows. "I think you're beautiful."
Kennedy returns the boy's smile before casting his gaze down at the portrait of himself. "Can I see?" He asks, extending an arm.
Van Gogh hands him the sketchpad without a second guess. JFK studies the drawing, an affectionate smile painting his lips and a soft glow in his eyes. "Why'd you draw it in coloured pencil?"
Vincent shrugs. "I thought it captured your aura."
"What does green mean?"
Van Gogh shakes his head. "I wasn't paying attention to that. I just like the colour of your eyes."
JFK looks up at Vincent, a fire burning in his heart as a similar fire burns in the boy's eyes. "Is that what makes me beautiful?"
Van Gogh looks away, shrugging. "I don't know. I'm noticing a lot of things about you that I hadn't before."
Kennedy wants to ask what he means, what he's noticing, but the boy is turned away and his shoulders are hunched. He doesn't ask for the sketchbook back. JFK guesses the conversation is over.
***
Van Gogh wakes up in the middle of the night, the wind howling through the cracks in the dormer window and the loose latch banging ominously. JFK is sleeping on his back and Vincent was sleeping on his stomach, his left arm and leg draped over his boyfriend. He rolls away from Kennedy, rubbing his eyes against the darkness. Next to him, John grunts.
"Shh," Vincent says.
"Vinny..." He whispers groggily, reaching for the boy.
Van Gogh rolls back over to JFK, giving him a light kiss on the lips. "Go back to sleep, Jack. It's still nighttime."
"So why are you awake?"
"Shh..." Vincent says again before climbing out of bed.
He creeps down the stairs, hand trailing over the railing, his footsteps soft. He walks through the archway to the kitchen, trying to rifle through the junk drawer next to the stove as quietly as possible. His hand closes around the box of matches, and he lifts it out of the drawer, glancing over his shoulder every other second. He walks the box to the kitchen table, where the magenta tapers are still sitting. He strikes the match against the side of the box, watching as it sparks and fizzes before his eyes. He inhales the scent of the sulphur and the burning wood, letting it wrap around his soul. The warmth nestles in his heart, and he is one with the fire. He feels himself burning from the inside out, his internal organs the wick and his skin the wax. He lights the magenta candles after a couple of seconds, his mouth relaxed and his face resting. The flames reflect against the whites of his eyes as the wicks of the candles catch fire and the wax begins to melt.
"Burn," he whispers. "Down to the wick, down to the floor. Take the whole town with you, take the whole world."
The light flicks on, and Van Gogh whips around. Standing in the archway is a groggy JFK, his hair disheveled and the bags under his eyes dark. He wipes a hand across his puffy face, his vision blurry.
"Vincent?" He asks, his voice drowned in mucus.
Van Gogh blows out the candle and the match, and sits on his hands. His eyes widen when he turns to Kennedy, his face flushed and lips red.
"Yes?"
"What are you doing?" John asks, and it sounds more confused than accusing.
Van Gogh shakes his head urgently. "I- I don't know. I just felt like I had to come down here. I felt too awake."
JFK squints, but doesn't make an argument. "Come back up to bed, Vinny. It's three in the morning."
Van Gogh nods, abandoning the matchbox and the candles. He follows JFK out of the kitchen, flicking the light off behind them. He grabs onto the boy's hand as they walk up the stairs, interlacing their fingers tentatively. John gives Vincent's hand a reassuring squeeze, pulling the shorter boy in closer to him. They climb into bed and assume the position they'd been sleeping in before, the left side of Van Gogh's body draped over JFK.
21 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
azrielsbxtch
Asma
here4theheartbreak
crazy boys are getting 환장
backyardrevolutionsystemreviews
Balvanter
patronoum
PATRONOUM